Boycat has been struggling with feline idiopathic cystitis since early May. We've already done two rounds of antibiotics, pain-killers each time he flared up, and a full six weeks of buspirone.
He finished the last of his meds on Tuesday. All seemed like it was going well. On Friday morning, he started peeing only tiny amounts and licking himself again. Soon he was peeing outside his box.
We had a refill available for the buspirone and started him on that again Friday evening. He was in such obvious pain this morning and wouldn't/couldn't pee, so we made a flying visit to the emergency vet hospital to get him checked out.
Three hours and $182 later, he is home for the weekend with painkillers, anti-spasmodics and Cosequin. He doesn't have a blockage, and they gave him some subcutaneous fluids that helped him have a couple excellent big peeings. He's doing better now thanks to the fluids and his meds, but we have to go back to our regular vet early next week for a more complete work-up: x-rays, possible urine culture, etc. which means $$$$.
Sigh.
There is never a good time for these things to happen, but weekends are of course the worst (though I feel lucky and grateful that we have emergency vet services available). And for this to happen while I'm employed only part-time with not a lot of spare dough is of course not ideal, either. I just got a small "summer vacation" bonus from the website I write for, and I know now it's not going to be spent on something fun like a summer vacation.
But ... Boycat is family. I wouldn't consider NOT seeking treatment for him, even if I couldn't pay for it. I am grateful to have services available and to have money to pay for them, even if it means I'll be pretty broke in July. At least we got to come home with our cat and with medicines that will help make him more comfortable while we figure out if there is something behind all this. (As frustrating as it is, I do hope it is truly "idiopathic" and not something scarier like a tumor.)
There were several other folks there that were much worse off: a young couple whose dog had been attacked by a pit bull; a young woman whose cat has something similar to Boycat but who had to be admitted to the hospital for treatment and monitoring; an older couple who left the exam room crying, and without their pet. I'll take my big vet bill vs. not being able to bring my pet home, for whatever reason.
Update 7/7/2013: Boycat went for x-rays and a more complete work-up a couple days ago and they found nothing. It is truly feline idiopathic cystitis at this point. We're finishing up the meds from the most recent incident, and we're going to keep him on buspirone for a few months. We were advised to add additional water to his wet food, and were told to consider a type of wet food made specifically for cats with urinary tract problems if he has another flare up. Right now, we're relieved to find it's nothing serious, and we'll continue meds and watchful waiting, hoping for the best.
Been feeling nostalgic today. The day of the week I am most likely to go nostalgia-tripping through old photos and old music or do some webstalking of old classmates is always Sunday, for some reason.
I grew up in a little town that I hated, but it's been on my mind lately.
We moved from Lincoln, NE, where I lived from infancy until age 3, to this little town for my father's career. (We almost ended up in an even smaller town, but my mother had grown up in a small town similar to the one being considered and told my father she couldn't do that to her kids. Thank you, Mom!)
I wasn't aware of how small the town was, and what that really meant, until I was ten or eleven. Places that were bigger just seemed ... bigger, but the same, like with more stuff to do, but to a kid, it was just the same kinds of stuff and more people.
My sister and I walking home from the town library
By junior high, the town and I had declared silent war on each other. I went from being unaware of my town's size to being too aware of its size, hating it for its size and wishing I was somewhere else, and expressing this outwardly with my attitude and behavior and mode of dress. (And finding a few other like-minded individuals who felt the same way.)
Which is not to say I was some kind of juvenile delinquent. I did this in a very white, middle-class way, of course. I dressed strangely and took every opportunity to assert my individual style and specify my (superior, of course) pop culture preferences. If I wasn't going to be accepted and appreciated, I wasn't going to bother trying to fit in anymore.
I was, however, always a good kid. I didn't drink or smoke in high school (not that I had many opportunities, since I never got invited to the parties). I even used my good behavior, along with being smart and getting good grades in school, as a form of rebellion, to show them they were all "beneath me," and also because it meant that someday I would have a means of getting out of there. (I recognize now that my attitude was sometimes snotty and likely had at least a little something to do with the way people treated me.)
It was probably in my blood as well. My family were considered strange in the town. My parents were intensely private, with just a small circle of friends. Until I was well into my 30s, they lived in the same old house they had bought when they were poor as church mice, my father fresh out of law school with a wife and two kids already and hardly a pot to piss in. Long after they could have afforded better, they stayed in that same old house and continued driving their same old cars. (They did eventually remodel the home and my father got a wild hair when he turned 40 and bought a flashy Cadillac.) The town was small but had its "preferred suburb" area and social clubs to which the upwardly mobile belonged, all of which my parents rejected. My parents never joined a church (or even attended any).
(Yes, I've turned out a lot like them.)
So ... what's so terrible about my hometown?
Nothing.
Main Street
It is a typical small town in a Midwestern state. Its residents are traditional and church-going, socially and politically conservative. Its community is not diverse. It is hours away from even a medium-sized city like Lincoln. It doesn't offer much for young people to do--a movie theater and cruising the main drag are the primary teen pastimes. Its teens end up drinking at house parties or out in the country, and having sex at a young age, due to lack of any better options. Older adults still see movies and drink (but in bars), plus go boating, fishing and hunting for fun. The town has developed a huge meth problem since the 1990s. Its population has declined steadily since the 1970s, as it doesn't offer many career opportunities or decent-paying jobs that would keep young people around or attract new residents.
It's neither good nor bad. I realize that now. It just wasn't what I was looking for. I don't think I knew what I was looking for, really, until I was in my 30s, but I certainly knew what I wasn't looking for: a town like my hometown.
My sister and brother-in-law and nephew still live near there. They like the small-town atmosphere and feel most comfortable there. My nephew is in college but it won't surprise me if he returns there after school, or moves to a new town that is similar in size and demographics. They obviously want something different than I want and they enjoy the pace of rural life.
I haven't actually been back there since 2005, when my father retired and a small celebration was held (and he left the next day, to join my mom in the new house they had purchased several months before, in a bigger city). During the last five years, my niece and nephew even graduated from their small rural high school that is near there, and I attended but stayed at a hotel in a bigger city a little further away, just to avoid my hometown.
And yet, now that I don't live in Nebraska anymore and probably won't visit again until there's a wedding or a funeral, I find myself looking at the hometown newspaper website more often. I did an earlier entry about learning my high school boyfriend's dad and my old babysitter had passed away, but the obituaries are not the only section of the town's newspaper that I read. Old family friends celebrated a 54th wedding anniversary and I saw the announcement in the paper and sent a card. I occasionally recognize a classmate or one of their children in a news story, but there are many names I don't know.
I miss the crappy old drive-in/restaurant that still has customers place their order via individual telephone handsets at each table. I've been craving the jiffy burgers a "rival" drive-in used to sell, and for which I have the coveted special secret recipe.
A friend posted Facebook photos of her visit a small town that still has a drive-in movie theater, and I remembered my town had one, too, until 1980ish? My mom worked there briefly when I was a kid. I saw Superman and Star Wars there, among other films.
A new friend who is a Montessori teacher got me thinking about my old elementary school, which took advantage of an unconventional classroom layout and created an unconventional (but very successful) teaching model. (In googling to see if there were any images, I learned that it was sold to a private investor and is being developed for mixed use business/upscale housing.)
Watching Freaks and Geeks again on Netflix reminded me of my 9th grade art teacher, who looked like the guidance counselor on the show.
So ... yeah. It doesn't define who I am, but that little Nebraska town is part of me. Simon and Garfunkel already said it better than I could, so I'll let them close this entry.
When I first began exploring art again in my late 30s, I was short on materials and unwilling to spend a lot for supplies on what I was not certain would be anything but a passing interest. I found myself wasting a lot of paint and paper as I attempted to learn new techniques and improve my skills. The truly "failed" art would wind up in the trash, and after several expensive "lessons" of this variety, I decided to scale down in my projects in an attempt to preserve supplies and save money.
I was familiar with Artist Trading Cards (ATCs) and also ACEOs from my time on Etsy.com. I bought a beautiful set of ACEOs from one artist, and it got me thinking about what I was trying to accomplish.
For those not familiar with ATCs (which are also a popular format with scrapbookers in addition to artists), they are essentially miniature works of art roughly the size of a baseball card or playing card (which some artists even use as their "canvas"), done in just about any medium, designed to be traded and collected among artists. Some artists have also commercialized this concept with the creation of Art Cards Editions and Originals (ACEOs), which are just ATCs that have a price tag on them. Wikipedia has a great entry that gives some background on the history and philosophy of ATCs and ACEOs and I'll let those who are interested read more over there.
As it turned out, the small size of ATCs were a great format for beginner artists. I was mainly doing watercolors at the time, and with the help of a set of miniature brushes, I was able to create very fine details, even with my rudimentary skills. I began experimenting with other techniques like pen and ink, collaging of two paintings on a single card, and with a synthetic type of paper called Yupo. Yupo is still one of my favorite materials, because it's basically a thin sheet of plastic that doesn't absorb the paint, which makes for some interesting effects as the paint dries. Plus if I really screwed up, I just gave it a quick rinse in the sink and started over. No waste, no worry.
I joined a Yahoo group of active ATC makers and traders and did a few swaps with other folks around the country. Some of my favorite ATCs that I created are actually no longer in my possession, as I've swapped them for cool ATCs by other folks. Here are a few I did that I really liked (click on any image for a larger view--remember, these are actually quite small in real life):
"Golden Orb," watercolor on Yupo, traded
Untitled, inspired by Klimt, watercolor on paper, traded (this one took
three hours to make with tiny micro-brushes)
"Lila and Lou," watercolor and ink on Yupo, traded
"The Dreamers of the Dreams," watercolor and ink on paper
"The Passengers," watercolor and ink on Yupo
"There it Goes," watercolor and ink on Yupo, traded
(the background here is a good example of some of the interesting
effects Yupo can produce)
"What They Saw," watercolor and ink on Yupo
I will also show you a few of the cards I received in trade (and one I purchased), all of which I treasure:
Clockwise starting from the top: "October Kitties," digital ATC by Cynthia Peck; "Daydreaming," mixed media ACEO, artist's name illegible; "Squidlicious," mixed media ATC by Melody Hansen-Herman; "Ornate 002" pen and marker ATC by Marissa Childers; "Seven-Day Forecast" mixed media ATC by Carolyn Dickson
Want to learn more or give it a try yourself? First, know that you do not have to paint or draw to be able to make amazing cards. Collaging, stamping, sewing, cut/paste/glue, printing of digital images you Photoshopped and manipulated, etc. are all allowable and make for some amazing cards. Do a Google image search or visit Flickr for more ideas, plus here's a Wikihow that will help you get started. There's also a great book called Artist Trading Card Workshop by Bernie Berlin that is full of creative and cool projects you can try on your own. ATCs are also lots of fun for children, if you are looking for an art/craft projects for the kids in your life.
If any of you get started making your own cards and wanna swap, let me know. :-)
Actually, I think it's more than okey-dokey, but I realize it's not everyone's bag. :-) I had no idea it was going to become my bag, but sure enough, Ms. 42's got a brand new bag and yes, it is karaoke.
My first karaoke experience was in 1999 at a corporate retreat. A large part of the discussion that week centered on putting yourself out there, taking risks, etc., so the last night of the event involved a dance/karaoke party. I had never done karaoke before but sang with a group of girls for my first song (and I can't remember what song we sang). After a couple more beers, I sang a duet of "Killing Me Softly"--the Roberta Flack version.
I really didn't think about it for the next 13 years. Occasionally we would happen upon a bar or restaurant that was having a karaoke night, but I never sang and we usually didn't stay long.
Karaoke was apparently looking for me, though.
I found out someone close to me was a big karaoke fan. I have never heard her sing, but she is certainly a very enthusiastic karaoke participant, which usually counts for more than vocal ability. Check out this video where she goes a little overboard on "Greased Lightning" and accidentally punches out her friend.
I soon learned I had some more closeted karaoke-lovin' friends back in Nebraska, and we finished up the night of our going-away party at a karaoke bar, where I sang another duet, "These Boots Are Made for Walkin.'" My friend who sang with me said she couldn't hear me at all, and she probably couldn't (I didn't know how to properly sing into the microphone), but probably no one else could hear us either. That particular bar was a good place to cut my karaoke teeth again, because it had no stage and was a very crowded, very noisy and very indifferent bar full of heavy drinkers, most of whom could not see/hear the singers and weren't paying attention anyway.
Fast forward to a Sunday in October 2012. We hadn't been in town long, and after a movie, we were looking for a late dinner and beers at a pub close to home. We didn't realize it was karaoke night at the pub, but we had so much fun watching the singers that we stayed and cheered and clapped for everybody. I met a new friend that night who encouraged me to sing.
That following week, I did.
First song: "LA Woman" by the Doors. And it wasn't bad. I wasn't a great singer, but I was an okay singer. And ... the whole thing was surprisingly non-scary! You don't have time to be scared when you're so worried about keeping up with the lyrics, staying on tempo and trying to sing on key as much as possible!
I was hooked.
Soon I was singing two songs a night. We started staying a little longer and I would sometimes squeeze in a third before we called it a night. We made some friends at our regular neighborhood Sunday karaoke venue who were quite serious about their karaoke (though some of them were not necessarily good singers) and who went to 3 or 4 different bars a week just to sing. We tried some other places on different nights, and eventually found a bar/karaoke DJ/crowd that felt the most comfortable. It has a small stage, which does make a difference. I feel much more like I am "performing" if there is a stage, and I think people pay a bit more attention, too.
We have met some more new friends through karaoke, too, with whom we share a few other interests besides karaoke, which is a cool thing.
I hadn't really done any singing since a brief stint in 8th grade choir, but thanks to karaoke nights I am improving as a singer. My breath control is getting better--I can sing quite loud and sustain a note for a long time. I started out singing songs originally performed by men and was most comfortable in the lower end of my range for awhile, but I am singing more "girl" songs now and exploring songs that require higher notes and/or a little more vocal ability.
I was doing "Sweet Transvestite" from Rocky Horror Show when this photo was taken.
[Boom, chick-a-boom, chick-a-boom!] (I know some of you will know what that means.)
I do not always sing on key. Fortunately, that's not a requirement for karaoke. :-)
Like they have said on "American Idol," (which I haven't watched since the season with Ruben and Clay, for the record), song selection is super important. I know almost instantly when I have chosen the wrong song and it's usually a dismal failure. But ... so what? It's just karaoke. I'll also sing with anybody, and anybody is welcome to sing with me. (Last week I even tried to make a couple guys sing with me and held the mic too close to the speakers, resulting in awful squeals of feedback. Oops! I'm a dork!) I didn't know the gentleman in the picture below--he was never at the bar before that night and I haven't seen him since. He was a very good singer, and after singing several Beatles songs that night he asked me to duet with him on "I Got You Babe" by Sonny and Cher. It was super fun!
Some other totally cool things have happened at karaoke nights, too:
A notable movie star--Tyler Mane from X-Men, the new Rob Zombie Halloween films, among others--came into one of the venues. He was premiering a film here and he and his entourage held their after-party in the upstairs room. I saw him come in but we had already left for the night when he came back downstairs and took pictures with a bunch of the singers. He is extremely tall, by the way.
Two young guys sat next to us last week and acted a bit shy about singing, and then one of them went up there and freakin' nailed his song. Obviously a pro, which is not an uncommon thing here at karaoke nights, and he confessed: the two are performing in one of the Broadway shows that's playing here for the next few weeks. They were nice guys and we had a good time with them that night. I looked them up later and found out one of them has actually been in a production that was on Broadway and was also in a movie some of you may have seen called Across the Universe.
If you asked me a few months ago if I thought I would be doing this, I would have said no. I am now one of those nerdy peeps who keeps a list of potential karaoke songs on her phone. I have my favorite karaoke DJ's online song list stored as a favorite. I have not started putting actual karaoke songs on my phone or a thumb drive yet, but other people do this and I reserve the right to do so in the future.
I should acknowledge, too, that part of what made my karaoke mania possible is the fact that I have been looking for full-time work since our move. I don't have to be up early for a job at this time. I have decided to make the most of my temporary part-time employment and go to karaoke on "school nights" if I feel like it. I know the time will come when I am working full-time again and probably will have to restrict my karaoke activity to the weekends, which will be okay, too. In the meantime, I'm gonna have fun while there is fun to be had!
Props to Mr. 42, who will probably never sing at any of the karaoke nights ever but is my faithful companion. (He likes to drink beer, watch and listen to other people singing and strike up barstool conversations with anyone who is sitting next to him. These things make karaoke night a win-win for us.)
Some of you know that we had a pet emergency this week. Boycat started peeing blood on Thursday and the vet (whom we had never needed to see here in Philly, at least not yet) was kind enough to rush us right in.
The official diagnosis was Feline Idiopathic Cystitis, but lab tests showed multiple bacteria present as well, so he's on an antibiotic, a painkiller and because the problem appears to have been exacerbated by the noises of the ongoing construction (building-wide window replacement) taking place, an anti-anxiety pill for humans (and cats) called Buspar (buspirone).
I filled his Buspar prescription at Walgreen's. His bottle has his first and
last name, plus "The Cat." Cute. :-)
The painkillers are some tasty flavored chewable pills and he begs for those when I open the package.
He ate his antibiotic wrapped in turkey the first day, but apparently he's wise to us now. I got a Buspar down him using tuna and tuna water to disguise it, but we could not get him to take his antibiotic in food yesterday and had to resort to cat-pilling. Ugh. Such unpleasant (but very necessary) business. And since he's now attuned to the possible presence of pills in tuna, turkey, etc., it looks like we'll be doing it three times a day for a couple weeks. One of several videos I found helpful is below.
I just hope he starts feeling better soon. He was still peeing a bit of blood yesterday, and peeing only tiny amounts in spite of all the wet food, tuna water and bottled water he's been consuming. I never saw him lick his whizzer even once when he was healthy, but he's doing it all the time now, apparently 'cause it's in such pain. He's also leaving little pee spritzes in assorted non-appropriate locations around the house. (He never pee'd outside his box before, which would have been a sure sign of something wrong even without the bloody pee.)
Human friends, have you ever had cystitis/bladder infection/UTI? I remember being pretty miserable with it. You want to jump out of your skin, which is probably what Boycat has been feeling the last couple of days.
That being said, we have a list of household goods and clothing casualties that continues to grow. He pee'd on two pairs of my suede boots, both of which are probably not salvageable. Even if the bloody pee stains come out, the aroma probably will not. I do not want to be the person who causes everyone to ask, "Do you smell cat pee?" when I walk by in a pair of these boots. He also pee'd on (and in) my rainboots, so they're goners, as well as a pair of Mr. 42's flip-flops. A couple shirts and an afghan also got hit and will be taking a turn through the washer in the near future. I have newspapers down at the particular spot on the carpet that he's taken to spritzing. The smell of cat pee in our small apartment is pretty unpleasant and we're probably not done with the sprayings yet. Nature's Miracle is on its way from Amazon.com as we speak.
To avoid future recurrences, the vet recommend we transition him to an all wet-food diet, so we're going to transition both cats at the same time. They already get periodic wet food as a treat and they like it, but both are very attached to their fancy-pants grain-free dry cat food. (Which I had just bought a big bag of, too. Damn the luck.)
On a brighter note, our new window installation was completed yesterday (hooray!) so Boycat's immediate perceived threats from strange noises and strange people are greatly diminished. He and Girlcat LOVE sitting in the new windows. We love the windows, too, since the old ones were almost completely rotten and we had to put plastic up in the winter due to the drafts. Plus they open all the way up, which is helping with the cat pee smell.
Bonus shot of Girlcat, just 'cause she's so pretty and hardly ever sits still for pictures:
This is my most-worn piece of jewelry after my wedding ring, which makes it one of My Favorite Things. I call it the Tek Bracelet.
"Tek" is short for Tekla, and Tekla was Tekla Allen, a family friend since I was a child. She was always called Tek for as long as I knew her, which I found strange as a child, though I found the fact that it was a nickname for "Tekla" even stranger. Tekla was one of those names like Opal and Edna and Ethel that children of the 1970s would encounter only on grandmothers and great aunts.
Tek is from the small town where I grew up, and she was an amazing woman. She married well, to a local pharmacist who also owned his drugstore which, incredibly, still had an operating lunch counter through the early 1980s. (I assure you it was quaint even back then.) They had a nice 1950s-era ranch home filled with original mid-century modern furnishings. Antiques at that time still trended toward the Victorian and the Depression eras. The nice Danish modern stuff Tek had was considered too recent and unfashionable in the late 1970s when she became a widow and sold the house and much of its furnishings to move into a senior apartment complex. I'm sure a lot of it went for a steal and oh, how people including my parents would pay through the nose for that stuff today!
I met Tek when she was still incredibly spry for a woman in her 60s--one whose mother was still alive, living independently in her late 80s and almost equally spry. Tek still dressed to the nines, wearing little heels and stockings, with scores of handbags and incredible jewelry. Lots of chunky bracelets, big bead strands and pendants and fancy clip-on earrings. I saw pictures of Tek from the 1950s, doing upper-middle-class housewife-ly things like shopping downtown and attending charity social events. She was always wearing fox pieces, little hats and white gloves. Style was important to her and seemed to come naturally to her.
She gave birth to one son who was also a friend of my parents (and much closer to their age), which is how we all met Tek. The son died young--at just 42--of MS, but Tek was such a neat lady that her daughter-in-law would continue to take care of her for the rest of her life, even though they were no longer related and even after she had married a second husband. Tek moved to live near them when she got older and eventually moved in with them when she was in her 80s.
By chance, her death happened just a few days before I had planned a visit home. I lived hours away by that time and I don't know if I would have driven home to attend the funeral, but I was happy it worked out that I could attend. My mom was helping the ex-daughter-in-law clear out some of Tek's things after her death, and the woman sent home with her a big bag of costume jewelry from one of Tek's many jewelry boxes.
We each picked a few pieces and wore them to Tek's funeral the next day, to honor her. The Tek Bracelet is one of the pieces I chose.
I wore it (and still wear it) often and it always brings complements. It goes with any outfit and adds a touch of class to even t-shirts and jeans. The bracelet is not a precious metal and appears to be stainless steel. It has no brand markings on it but is probably something like Sarah Coventry or Avon or something that would have been sold at the local department store. It has a spring hinge and is actually a little snug on me since I gained weight, though it still fits. It would probably fit as an armband on a skinny-armed person. I like the design so much I considered getting an armband tattoo of it at one point.
My mom saw how often I wore it and when she later found a yellow gold-toned equivalent at a garage sale, she bought it for me.
I like and wear both pieces, though I don't wear yellow gold jewelry very often. And of course, the yellow gold-toned bracelet is not the Tek Bracelet, so it's less special.
If you come to Philadelphia, I promise we'll have a great time!
Come now (or soon) if you want to have more of my time available during your visit.
Come after I get a job if you want us to have more spending money to go and do things. (Mr. 42 will likely still be available to meet your plane or pick you up at your hotel and take you around during the day).
I suggest an itinerary that includes a "First Friday" (i.e. the first Friday of a new month) as there are tons of fun and free or inexpensive things to do on those weekends: Art crawl. Gallery walk. Bands. Drinks. Food.
Some awesome things are always free: the Liberty Bell and Independence Park, for example. People-watching on South Street. The Edgar Allan Poe House. Elfreth's Alley. Reading Terminal. Love Park. Penn's Landing.
Penn's Landing, Sculpture
View of the Ben Franklin Bridge from Penn's Landing
South Street funkiness
Mosaics on South Street
Some other cool things don't cost much and are worth the small amount they do cost: Philadelphia Art Museum (complete with Rocky statue); Philadelphia African American Museum (The Supremes exhibit is here through June); The Franklin Institute; The Constitution Center.
If you want to shop, we're within walking distance of H & M, Macy's, Lush, Sephora, Buffalo Trading, Marshall's, Ross, two malls, trendy little boutiques in Old City, big designer stores in Rittenhouse, funky head shops and bookstores and XXX-product stores on South Street. We'll ride the subway somewhere just to give you the experience, or maybe to visit destinations a little further away. If you want to do serious shopping, we can ride the train and bus to great big ol' King of Prussia Mall, but honestly, if we're going to ride trains and buses for 90 minutes (yes, it really takes that long to get there by train and bus), why don't we ride them to New York City instead? Trains are $24 to $40 and get there in 1 hr 15 minutes, or the Yo! Bus is $12 and takes 2 hrs.
We know tons of great places to eat. Including vegetarian. Including cheesesteaks. Including cheap (we just found a fabulous Indian place today that sells their food for $4.95 a pound). Including places with cool decor and moderate pricing. Including fancy-pants restaurants and high dollar menus if that's your game.
We live around the corner from a great dive bar and five decent restaurants that cover five ethnic cuisines and every price point. We're also just 4-5 blocks from two really good restaurant/bar districts.
If you want to sing karaoke with me (or just watch me sing), there are fun places to go every night, esp. Sundays, Mondays, Tuesdays and Saturdays. All are within walking distance.
You can stay with us if you don't mind a sofa (or an airbed if there are two of you coming) and don't mind one or two cats trying to sleep with you. If you want a hotel room, there are four within walking distance of us (big city prices, sorry) or we can Priceline and try to get a better deal, though it may be a little further away. We don't mind walking or riding the subway to get to you, and cabs are plentiful and cheap here in Philly.
Who among you will be the first to visit us? Mr. 42 and I have placed our bets. Prove me wrong, or prove me right! Hope to see you soon!
