2001-09-20 - 9:32 p.m.

On the internal soundtrack: Same as yesterday.

Okay, I have 20 minutes.

Where'd I leave off? Poindexter was shell-shocked.

Yes, okay. My parents arrived. Lots of hugging and kissing all around. My dad was very excited about hitting the bar so we went down there, got drinks, and told our where-were-you-when stories. Everyone was mostly shocked and horrified. It felt a little strange. Surreal, I guess. Not the kind of thing you want to be discussing with your family, ever. My family is also not very angry, just upset about the victims and concerned that we do something to prevent such attacks in the future.

All of us were relieved, in a weird way, that the grandparents weren't around to witness this. My grandfather, in particular, loved New York so much -- it was like a second home for him -- and I'm sure he would have been devastated.

My brother is still in shock, I think. It's his CITY, and this big part of it is now just gone.

We ate dinner at the Ristorante Panorama. The food was wonderful. The place is a must for wine lovers, because they have a special system that allows them to keep open bottles of wine for extended periods. You can have a "panoramic tasting", where you can sample 1.5 ounces of five different wines. I really, really wished that I liked wine.

My brother had escargot as an appetizer. He offered me some. I looked at them. I looked again. I tried not to compare them to the slugs in my garden, but ... I just couldn't. I am on the verge of gagging the entire time I'm dealing with slugs (that fucking SLIME is like CRAZY GLUE), and he was eating a dish of little slugs. I just couldn't do it.

(My god, there's a rain delay for the Braves game and my TBS station is showing Ripley's, with a LITTLE KID, like age four, tops, who is a runner. A RUNNER. She's just out there running, looking like a very small adult. How WEIRD! Wasn't I just saying awhile back that you can't get a kid to walk in a straight line for more than two minutes? Well, this one does! Holy shit!)

After dinner we sat around the hotel room and talked. Made plans for Christmas in Florida. Just had a good time being together.

I slept crappy. Had a terrorist-attack nightmare. Argh.

Sunday we explored a bit of West Philly and the Spring Garden/Art Museum section. Gorgeous, gorgeous houses everywhere. Went to some open houses. Saw a few overpriced ones. We saw one really cool house, well priced, in a gorgeous neighborhood that had a double rooftop deck. We went up there, looked around at the city all around us, and Poindexter said, "I could get used to this."

This area is quieter than Rittenhouse. Still has lots of walkability, though. But my concern is that it might be too quiet, since I was so energized by Center City.

So, after all that, we concluded a few things:

One, we like Philadelphia.

Second, buying right away is probably not what we're going to do. We have enough money saved up for that, but given how risk-averse we are where real estate is concerned, we'd rather wait until we really know the city inside out before deciding if we want to buy there. Plus, who knows, we might get tired of the whole hubbub and want to live farther out.

So I'm all excited about this. I love the idea of renting for a year or two. As much as I like not having a landlord, renting gives us SO much more freedom. There are plenty of places we'd be happy to live in that we can't afford to buy or that we don't think is a good place to buy. I like the flexibility. I also like the idea of putting stuff in storage or renting our house partially furnished, and renting a small place to save more money and feeling less guilty about blowing money as we're bound to do living so close to so many good restaurants.

One thing I'll have to do when we move: I have to learn how to dress. Poindexter's first reaction was "That'll be expensive", but I don't think that's necessarily the case. I saw some girls in clothing that didn't look terribly expensive. I need to get some STYLE. I have to stop dressing like a soccer mom -- I am drawn to "classic" clothing even though I end up feeling frumpy in it -- and get edgier. More black, more cleavage, more heels, more spandex. Funky glasses. And attitude. I'm always going to be nice goofy little Evelynne on the inside, but I could at least change the outer package a bit and have some fun before that inevitable day when my ass hits the back of my knees.

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