2004-02-29 - 8:36 p.m.

On the internal soundtrack: "Come Together", Beatles

Well, Camille is on her way back home to the frozen north after a lovely warm weekend here in Philadelphia. Aside from a few stops to gawk at Founding Fathers Hot Spots (including the broken bell and the tavern where they all got drunk and talked rebellion), we spent most of the time sitting in the lovely warm sun and chatting nonstop. Definitely a good way to welcome spring.

Camille was just as impressed with the whole "walking where the Founding Fathers walked" thing as I've always been. I didn't even know Ben's grave was around the corner from her hotel, but we ran across it on our way to see the spot (now occupied by a replica house) where Thomas Jefferson wrote the Declaration of Independence. Here I am, grinning like an idjit in front of the grave:

(That is my replacement E-Lo hat, which I got at Hecht's while shopping for Cuddl Duds with . I've been wearing it, but haven't been totally happy with it. My awesome brother picked up another E-Lo hat in New York last weekend which fits the way I remember the other hat (slouchier, kinda), and I am much happier with that one. It was SO sweet of him to go to all that trouble for me. I think I am going to put my e-mail address in both hats so that if I ever lose 'em again, hopefully they'll be returned to me. But I don't intend to lose them, dammit.)

Anyway. I also asked her to take a photo of me hugging the pole commemorating the spot where the first edition of Thomas Paine's "Common Sense" was printed. I'll show it to you next time. Meanwhile, here's the sign itself:

I was amused to realize before Camille arrived that I didn't actually know exactly why the Liberty Bell is such a big deal. I had to look it up. One of the major occasions it was used in was to call the citizens for a reading of the Declaration of Independence. Neat-o. This evening I looked it up again and found a more informative piece and was interested to see that the bell was also used as a symbol in the abolitionist movement. It's nice to know that it was involved in the continuing evolution of "liberty" in this country.

We were supposed to have coffee at a one of the most popular coffeehouses in the city and get ice cream at the best ice cream place ever, but apparently EVERYONE ELSE IN THE DELAWARE VALLEY had the same idea so we ended up walking out rather than wait in line. The city was packed with people trying to cure their cabin fever, apparently.

We did wait in line to get cheesesteaks and what I thought would be a half-hour wait took A FREAKING HOUR. She seemed to like it, though (we shared one "wit' whiz"), and I sure did, so I suppose it was worthwhile. I can only guess that the guys are still in a slower winter mode and were not prepared for such huge crowds at the end of February.

My brother spent the night last night, after going to a surprise party for a good friend of his at a local bar. We dropped by to wish him a happy birthday, and as we were leaving, a guy who looked vaguely familiar came up to me and the following conversation took place:

Guy: I don't care.
Evelynne: About what?
Guy: I'm Jerry.
Evelynne: [fusses trying to hear the name right, then:] Have I met you before?
Guy: Once before, yeah, at [your brother's] graduation. You and your family were waiting for me, and I was running late, and when I came down to the car I said, "Hi, I'm Jerry," and you said, "Oh, I don't care."

I blanked for a moment, and then suddenly it all clicked into place and I started laughing so hard I doubled over.

What happened was, I thought "I'm Jerry" had been "I'm sorry," apologizing for being late. So I said, "Oh, I don't care," in an "oh, it's nothing" kind of tone. Which I didn't. I wasn't in any hurry to get to some boring graduation ceremony. He was a bit taken aback until everything was explained, and apparently for seven years, whenever he recalls the incident, I have been the "I Don't Care" girl. Good lord, how embarrassing. He thinks it's hysterically funny, but for some reason I feel embarrassed. I mean, I had JUST MET the guy.

Then I found out he lives practically around the corner from me. Good GRIEF. I told him we should get together and have dinner sometime, and when I do, I will be very careful to make sure I understand exactly what he said before responding.

On top of all that, it turns out that one of my brother's friends I've met once before was also there and I didn't even say hello to her, because I didn't see her. GAH! I hate it when that happens! I think I saw her, but never made eye contact so assumed she was a friend I didn't know.

It's just been one embarrassing moment after another with my brother's friends and I really ought to just stay away from them. One time I was talking to a friend of his, Michelle, at a noisy bar

(I am noticing a trend here ... perhaps I should try to meet my brother's friends OUTSIDE of bars for a change)

and I mentioned that I'd heard she sang the "Ave Maria" at a recent funeral for a friend of theirs who had died after a long struggle with cancer. My mother said she sang so beautifully, and I wished I could've been there to hear it. (I think I was living in Virginia at the time.) And she just nodded at me and didn't say anything. And I think I spoke to the person she was with, and she didn't say anything the whole time.

So I am feeling MORTIFIED, thinking perhaps she wasn't ready to discuss her friend dying and all, and here I was bringing it up. I felt terrible.

The next morning, my brother mentions, "Hey, Michelle feels really bad, she had laryngitis and that's why she couldn't talk to you last night."

Heh. It's ironic because of all people, I'm the one who could've actually had a conversation with her via lipreading, but I guess she didn't know that. :)

Miscellaneous stuff I wanted to record for posterity:

Sometimes Poindexter calls me "Queen of the Harpies!" Like when I start shrieking at him when he is deliberately baiting me. Or last night, when I was ready for bed and he was downstairs and I hollered my pet name for him in a "get up here" voice.

Poindexter calls women's long underwear "longjanes".

We call potatoes "pa-TAYYYYY-das", very nasally, modeled after the way his paternal grandmother said the word. We're not exaggerating much.

previous index next