St. Louis: Two Thumbs Up

Sorry for the lack of timeliness in this posting...

We visited St. Louis Nov. 1 & 2 in order to see the Penguins play at the Blues, and to visit the International Bowling Hall of Fame . The Bowling Hall of Fame closed on November 8 and moved to San Antonio. We were fortune to see the overblown (and likely inaccurate) history of bowling in 10-pin Alley. Did you know that "Since the dawn of time, man has bowled?"



The game was great. The Penguins won. We wore Pens shirts and received barely a look of disapproval from the classy St. Louis fans, unlike the treatment we surely would have received by rooting for the visiting team back east. The Scottrade Center was a beautiful arena, and the game kicked off with a great rendition of the Blues' theme song. The organist responded to Penguins goals with a rendition of "That's Why They Call it the Blues." Great experience.


We also saw the St. Louis Zoo, Washington University in St. Louis, and the Gateway Arch. Although beautiful Autumn weather attracted long lines to the Arch and prevented us from going to the top, I (Justin) have had the opportunity in a previous visit. I highly recommended this excursion on a ridiculous conveyor system, which essentially transports you up the arch in a cable-drawn galvanized trash can. Claustrophobes need not apply.

In brief, the rivers, rusty bridges, and (modest) hills enabled us to project our homesickness onto this surprisingly lovely midwestern city.

Leona Leiby 1919-2008

Many knew her as "grandma," including her twenty or so grandchildren and their spouses, and some of her children-in-law. Her ten children obviously called her "mom."

I used to catch my bus to school at grandma and grandpa's house. Grandma made fried eggs and buttered toast for us every morning. I hear tale of my stubborn refusal to wipe the egg yolk from around my mouth. I remember fondly the smell of those eggs, and the memory of the off days when grandma forced grandpa to eat oatmeal, instead of eggs. Some choice words were exchanged between them. In PA Dutch, of course.

Grandma hummed without rhyme or meter as she went about her daily tasks. A blissful tic. If I forget everything else (and I WON'T), I will still fight tears as her humming comes to mind.

I love you, Grandma.

The Joys of Home Ownership

October is over. Good riddance. While I love October's refreshingly cooler temperatures and changing leaves, this particular October has been a reminder that bad things come in whatever number they happen to come in.



Included among the wonders of this October at the home that--take note--we have owned for four months:

• Our porch roof needed to be replaced. Its rotting decking and shoddy installation were apparently beyond the building inspector's capability to spot in June.


• The water service line to our house is leaking. The water pipes were fine for fifty years--until we moved in. We currently have a small moat (or malarial swamp) in our front yard, as seen in this aerial photo. Plumbers are scheduled to dig up our front lawn and replace the pipes on Wednesday of this week.

• Our 2005 Toyota Corrola's "check engine" came on. It might just be a loosening gas cap, but without diagnostic equipment we can't be sure.


• We needed to buy a new washing machine. The police warned us to stop washing our clothes with rocks in the Boneyard Creek.


• We needed to replace an accidently-washed cell phone, in an issue peripheral to the replaced washing machine.

Sorry for complaining. On the bright side, we had a great time in St. Louis this weekend (details to come). It's a really nice city, who knew.

Typical Sunday

First things first - I know it's been a LONG time since we updated. But good things come to those who wait, right? (At least that's what I think about the soon-to-be-released Guns N Roses album, and what Justin thinks about the possible Phillies World Series victory)

So anyway, here we are. Justin and I have lived in our house for almost 4 months now. So far, we've only had to buy a new washing machine, back porch roof, and 2 garage door opener batteries. Though we're not totally unpacked, I think we're completely at home. We're not completely fond of the neighborhood dogs, but we don't share walls with anyone, and I can yell at the TV as loudly as I want without annoying anyone. So we'll take that as a win.

We're planning a trip back to Pennsylvania at Thanksgiving. (Both Kutztown and Pittsburgh) Hopefully we'll be able to see everyone. I just hope we survive the drive.

We'll post again soon - I promise.

<3 Jenny

Today was the day

After signing our names about 54,206 times this morning, it's official - WE'RE HOMEOWNERS!

Pictures to follow in a later post.

An Appropriate "Taste of Champaign"

We visited Taste of Champaign yesterday, an outdoor "festival" where local restaurants, artisans, etc. hawk their wares as mediocre local musicians bellow to a captive audience. The festival fell just short of my low expectations, like most things in Central Illinois.

The centerpiece of this event is supposed to be a representative sample of food from local restaurants. Not surprisingly, there is little variety. More prevalent than food vendors were "arts and crafts" tents with aging hippies and pretentious college town types selling pottery, bronze sculptures, and other useless trinkets.

Jenny wisely suggested that we spend no more than $10. The best $2.22 of that amount was spent on a colada smoothie from a high school band booster club. Tasty and refreshing. On the bright side, we walked the 2.7 miles in each direction. Notable sights along the way included some amateur tree pruning by a south of the border crew (including tree limb disposal in a 1990 Dodge Caravan) and the goose shit laden sidewalks surrounding the absurdly-named Crystal Lake Park.

Not to mention that we got an approving smile from a someone on a Vespa, who was apparently pleased that we were walking and saving mother earth. At least we got some exercise.

We had low expectations for Taste of Champaign, and it managed to fall just short. It is not surprising for a decidedly mediocre part of the country to fail to meet even mediocre standards. The people must be content to meander along at a snail's pace, with the assumption that everyone else is like them, and has little to do except rear children and slowly pursue polite incompetence in everything that they do.

Another not so hard earned D- for the American Midwest.

16 Bags of Pretzels

Yesterday was my 26th birthday, which started with fried "dippy" eggs made by my loving and beautiful wife. We then celebrated with a visit to Seven Saints and some minature golf. Jenny handily won the mini golf match.

It's a sad state of affairs when the two best restaurants in town have both both been burger joints, but Seven Saints is possibly our favorite restaurant in Champaign now, and specializes in small hamburgers called "sliders."

These little burgers (possibly made famous by the White Castle chain) each are a little system of flavors (including a "tropical" with grilled pineapple and thai peanut sauce; and a "blackjack" with pepperjack cheese, spicy aoli, an onion ring and fried jalapenos).

I believe that my favorite is the smokey BBQ slider, with smoked cheddar, BBQ sauce, and smokey bacon, that is kind of like getting slapped in the face with a 4 oz. beef patty and a tube of liquid smoke. Washed down with a Rogue Dead Guy for me and a Blue Moon for Jenny, and it was a delicious lunch.

I also sampled from my birthday present: 16 bags of Tom Sturgis Pretzels. Jenny was nice enough to order 12 bags of these pretzels specially, because one can't find anything beyond Rold Golds in this midwestern shit hole. I suppose that the savages out here are content with their deep dish pizza and hot dogs with tomato and pickles. Nasty stuff.

In addition to Jenny's present, my mom also sent 4 bags of Tom Sturgis pretzels, so I will be sitting pretty for quite some time. Unfortunately, there is no Yuengling to wash them down. C'est la vie.

To end the day, Jenny made her delicious chili. Eggs + Sliders and Beer + Milkshakes + Pretzels + Chili and Beer = one gluttonous B-day that would make Bacchus proud.