Philadelphia has some amazing outdoor spaces, and so many of them are drastically underutilized. Tonight we had the Unitarian Young Adult potluck in Fairmount Park, on the Belmont Plateau. It is a vast stretch of lawn with a view of Center City that is impressed in the day and in the twilight. We sat across the street from Belmont Mansion, where a wedding reception was taking place. The fingers of the breeze pulled the unclaimed notes of the jazz quartet playing there down to our blankets and so we were doubly gifted with a free concert and an amazing cityscape. Lightening bugs skated six inches above the ground and the air cooled down to that point where you aren’t certain if air exists anymore, it is so close to perfect. Seth brought a grill and I channeled my Great-Aunt Doris, encouraging those gathered to “eat, eat.” Happily full and slightly dirty, we packed up three hours after we had arrived, feeling lucky to have such good people and beautiful spaces in which to enjoy this last Friday evening in June.

About twenty minutes ago, I was slammed out of sleep. Arm twisted, drool-pooling, rapid eye movement, sound sleep.

By a fire alarm. A very loud, highly insistant fire alarm complete with computerized voice calling out instructions.

Remembering the building fire of two years ago (which I wasn’t actually here for, but heard lots about from my then boyfriend who happened to be sleeping in the apartment that night), I grabbed a sweat shirt, my cell phone and my bag before heading for the fire stairs. I almost brought my laptop, but decided that I didn’t feel like schlepping it. Following the directions that “the voice” recited repeatedly, I took a seat in the stairwell (with my new, very cute, young-for-the-building neighbor) and waiting for the all clear signal.

After 10 minutes, “the voice” announced that it had been declared fine and that we could go back to our apartments.

I resent the lost sleep, but at least I finally met the cute neighbor. Although, if the state of his wakefulness is any indication, he probably won’t remember.

I brought a nectarine with me to work in my lunch today and now I’m reluctant to eat it. There is nothing wrong with it. It is perfectly formed, deeply colored and absolutely ripe.

And it smells amazing.

It is sitting on my desk, to the left of my keyboard. My office window is open and with each gentle nudge of the breeze, the fragrance of my nectarine drifts right to my nose. When that becomes too much of a tease, I pick it up, cradle it in both hands and tuck my nose into the space where the stem had been. I close my eyes and inhale deeply.

I am seven years old and sitting on a white painted glider on the brick patio out behind our house in Eagle Rock. My parents were at work, and Lucy was babysitting. In addition to nectarines, a yellow enamel colander full of cherries rested on the white metal outdoor table. Lucy was 16 years old at the time, and talking on our brand new cordless phone to a friend. I sat, listening to her conversation and wishing deeply to be as cool and grown up as she.

I’m standing in front of the sink in the house my family lived in when I was in high school. There are peaches and nectarines lined up on the window sill in front of me, ripening in the afternoon sun.

It’s three years ago and my first summer in Philadelphia. I stood in my kitchen, making nectarine cobbler for my aunt, uncle and cousins, while they visited from Hawaii.

Where does the nectarine take you?

I’ve begun the process of letting all the people I work with know that I’m leaving my job. For all the joy and excitement I’ve felt at the possibility and then promise of this new job, leaving this place that is comfortable and familiar is bittersweet.

I sat down with my supervisor this morning, in the grassy picnic area onto which our office windows look. We discussed my projects and responsibilities and the things she would have to take care of until my replacement was hired. I felt relieved (but also twinged with guilt that I had procrastinated so effectively) that there were projects (that I had never wanted to do in the first place) about which I could simply say, “I’m not going to get to that” without shame or repercussion. I felt moments of sadness to be handing over events that I had enjoyed and planned effectively.

Sitting in the sun with this woman who I genuninely like and enjoy, who was my supervisor through my toughest year on record, I felt my heart tug with the knowledge that she would no longer be a part of my day to day existence. Our relationship had been fraught with frustration as I struggled with my role in our office and yet she was always kind, continuing understanding and consistently good to me. I’m hopeful that despite this move I’m making, we’ll stay connected.

I’ve spent a lot of time on the couch in the last few days, as this cold has wrecked havoc with my ability to stay awake for more than four hours at a time. I’ve watched five movies, more hours of food network than I’d like to admit, and at a very (VERY) low point, Craft Corner Deathmatch on the Style Network. Does anyone else find that concept terrifying?

I’ve wandered from my bed to the couch and back to bed today. I’ve consumed gallons of grapefruit juice mixed with sparkling water. My voice is hoarse and subdued, when friends have called today they invariably say, “Wow, you sound like shit.” Well thanks. My mom keeps calling to make sure I haven’t died in my sleep. Yep, I feel like crap.

Hey, I also want to welcome all the readers from Jason Mulgrew and Philly Future. Hope you like what you read, and that you come back!

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This is art,
originally uploaded by Marusula.

Here are some of the pictures from my Pittsburgh trip, hope you like ’em.

I spent last weekend in Pittsburgh, checking out Cindy’s hometown and generally being totally impressed with the city. Pittsburgh get’s a bad wrap when it’s actually a pretty cool little town. In some ways it reminded me of Portland, with the rivers, bridges and hills.

We had a fun, busy day on Friday, starting with a two hour marathon at Cindy’s favorite thriftstore, Red, White and Blue. I was standing in the shoe section (got two cute pairs), when a woman walked by me. She looked familiar, but I didn’t expect to be seeing anyone I knew. But on second glance I thought, “that’s Cindy’s mom, Peg.” Except that through dumb luck, Peg was spending the weekend in Philly while we were in her city. I called down the aisle to Ingrid and we went off to find Cindy, in the business suit section, standing talking to Peg. Seems Cindy had mentioned to her that we were going to the thriftstore, and she had stopped in, hoping to track us down before she left for Philly later that afternoon. I got a giggle out of it.

Later that day we went for the famous Primanti Bros. sandwich, complete with coleslaw and french fries in the sandwich. A walk down the Strip for food for the party the next night. A wander through the Three Rivers Arts Fair and a dinner of festival food while listening to the Cowboy Junkies. Between dinner and dessert, the wind kicked and clouds tumbled into place above our heads, but we managed to dash for shelter under a nearby hotel overhang. The weather made lots of noise, but didn’t actually produce anything before timidly folding back into itself.

One highlight was the ride up the incline. It’s a pretty darn cool method of public transportation. I had never heard of an incline before last weekend. It’s two cars that ride on parallel tracks up a hill, and as one goes up the other goes down. People who live at the top of the hill use it as a way to get easily back into the city. All I can say is, Neat!

We stayed at Chris’s house on the North Side for the weekend. He lives in an amazing old three story row house that has been completely renovated, including a beautiful kitchen. It’s also an impressive home, because of the lack of stuff. My apartment is full of books, movies, cds, magazines, bowls (I have a problem with kitchen utensils) and random stuff from my grandparents. I always have extra and more than enough, whereas Chris has exactly the right amount. I envy his ability to be spare, and pare down to the essentials.

Saturday we took it a little easier and didn’t get moving until almost noon. Over in Shadyside we made pilgrimages to Sephora and the Apple store, had lunch and bought cake at Cindy’s favorite bakery. Back to Chris’s fabulous kitchen, we cooked for the party that night. Man did we cook. Chris is one of my favorite people to cook with, because with him, it’s art. The party was a delight, Chris’s people are terrific and there wasn’t a one that I didn’t enjoy.

It was a good weekend. I’ve posted some pictures on Flickr, check ’em out.

I have lots of fun things to write about, but my head is foggy and my throat is sore. Yep, a summer cold has struck and I’m just going to have to ride it out for a couple of days. I’ll post something interesting as soon as I stop coughing.

It’s official.

I have a new job.

I start at Penn on July 18th.

My last day here is July 1st.

This is very (VERY) happy-making.