Philly fans have a less-than-stellar reputation in comparison to more sedate fans. Like in New York, for instance.
Which ultimately didn’t matter because of one important reason. It didn’t suck.
I read tweets and FaceBook inquiries from worried friends asking if I was "okay." Okay from what? I turned on the TV and was unprepared for the horror.
And then there was the stroke of serendipity that changed everything.
The other item was the local nurseries that had plants and hybrids that were well suited for the desert climate, assuming, of course, that you have at LEAST an "aqua" thumb. I wish.
Well. Now that I have your attention...
And then for some reason, tiny insects decided that they just had to commit suicide on my freshly painted doors. Besides tweezing their little carcasses from the paint, there was even more razoring, sanding and repainting!
The only bad thing – if you want to call it bad – is that I still haven’t quite accepted the fact that I’m not the aspiring HGTV star that I think I am.
I want to go someplace in 2018. By someplace, I mean not Vegas. Not even (gasp!) California, my go-to wine-guzzling destination.
I have a knack, apparently, for mixing cultural elements in food and making them delicious. I love that about me.