This is Tasker Morris station

I used to drive a car everyday. Now, I ride the subway everyday. I used to get really angry in traffic. Now, I kind of enjoy my commute. I used to listen to the radio. Now, I listen to headphones. I used to pay a lot of money to get to work everyday. Now, I pay very little to get to work. I used to smell my innocuous car air freshener. Now, I smell the subway pee. 4 out of 5 ain’t bad.

My subway rides are generally pretty precious time for me. I either get to be in my head and be quiet. OR, I get to meet some great people. Regardless of what I do, I’m usually pretty happy about it and pretty thrilled to be living somewhere I can take public transit. One exception to the happy transit rule is game day. I live 2 stops from the stadium complex. So, when the Phillies or the Flyers or the 76ers or (god-forbid) the Eagles are playing, my subway gets taken over. Sure it’s kind of fun to get into the spirit, but generally speaking I just want to go home. The subway gets super crowded with people who don’t know where they’re going and/or where to sit and/or stand and/or how to read the signs and/or are a little drunk. This is the worst during Phillies season because they’re usually sweaty too.

Earlier this week, I had a typical Phillies commute. Dozens of New Jersyans and suburbanites nervously waiting to be mugged in City Hall station clad in red caps, clutching baseball gloves, or expensive purses. Being an unseasonably warm day, they were sweaty too. “Great.” I think as I mentally roll my eyes.

The train pulls up to the platform and we file in. My normally moderately full train is suddenly a game of musical chairs. I hate musical chairs. I always end up either with my ass on the floor or hurting someone. Not in the mood to play, I bump through the crowd looking for a safe place to weather the storm. “Sorry.” “Excuse me.” “Oops. Behind you.” “Thanks.” (I’m 99% sure these words actually come out instead of the “Get the f*ck out my way!” that is clawing its way around my head.) I finally make my way through the crowd of red and white shirts and French pedicures in flip-flops and take up a kind of obnoxious space near an exit door. While I don't normally like to block half the exit, I figure that it’s safer for everyone if I'm out of the way.

5 stops and I’m home free…my blood pressure drops slightly.

4 stops and I’m home free…my breathing is returning to normal.

3 stops and I’m home free…oh, look a cute baby smiling at me, maybe this isn’t so bad.

2 stops and I’m…oh dear god…no. You won’t fit. Please don’t try to squeeze in here. Look, dude, I’m almost in my happy place could you maybe not try to cram in here…ugh.

Yes, he’s tall, dark and handsome, but he’s sweating like a pig and his right shoulder is maybe 6 inches from my face. I’m trying to breathe through my mouth, so as to avoid smelling anything, but I can't keep this up for long. As the train lurches forward, he reaches above my head to brace himself and I am practically nuzzling his armpit. Nowhere to run! I’m wedged between Jersey girl, exit door and a sweaty armpit.

SHIT! Stop breathing! I’m running out of air. I’m running out of time! Turning blue! I have no choice…oh god, here we go…deep breath…

Waiting to be blown over and gag and maybe vomit a little, I realize that it’s actually not that bad. In fact, it’s kind of cozy in here. He smells oddly familiar. Seriously? Is it possible that this man’s sweaty pit stains actually smell like cinnamon tea? Now, I’m faced with an even more troubling problem than a crowded train on game day. Now, I’m the freaky girl listening to headphones who is apparently sniffing some stranger with a dopey far off expression on her face.

Over the loudspeaker "This is Tasker Morris station..." The train grinds to a halt and Mr. Cinnamon tea gracefully backs out of the car. I’m dumbfounded, creeped out, intoxicated, and a little embarrassed all at the same time. As the doors close behind him, I almost could have sworn he winked at me on the way out.

I have absolutely no idea what just happened, but I know one thing for damn sure; this never would have happened in my car.

Crepitus

As Carolyn creeps casually closer to the commemoration of the conclusion of her childhood, she is consistently caught by this crick called crepitus in her (c)knee.

Crepitus sounds and feels like a small handful of gravel under my right kneecap. It's a bunch of crap.

T-minus 17

There are officially

17 days left in my 20s.

In a Dream...a film by Jeremiah Zagar

In a Dream is a portrait of Isaiah Zagar, a mosaic artist who has spent the last 35 years creating larger than life mosiacs in South Philadelpia. His mosaics, glimmering flecks of broken glass and tile on an otherwise dirty streetscape, are an integral part of this neighborhood. In this portrait we see him in a seemingly unfiltered light. He is artist. He is rebel. He is husband. He is lover. He is liar. He is father. He is genius. He is alive in all things.

This story is told by the people who live it and expertly pieced together by Isaiah's youngest son, Jeremiah Zagar. The filmmaker is always there, but only briefly present. Although Jeremiah uses the camera to create distance, he tells his father's story with a strong clear unwavering voice. This film is a moving love note written by a son to his family and bravely read to the world.

**I apologize if the color is difficult to read, but it would be criminal to discuss this film or these vibrant people in black and white.**

Rainy days and Mondays always get me down.

It's a rainy day.

It's a Monday.

Double whammy of down.

I really hope it stops raining soon,

but until it does....

PUPPIES!!!

*Thanks!

Cupcakes gone wild.

These are no ordinary cupckes.

Sure they're cute, but they have a secrect.

It started out simple.

It was your classic batter meets bowl story.

Little did they know, Food Coloring was lurking around the corner.

Whenever he gets involved, there's sure to be trouble.

Once the pouring started, it was almost too late.

Then, things got really twisted.

Before you even knew what happened, it got really heated.

It was madness.

The end.

Even at Jimmy Johns

Sometimes you find little bits of goodness in the strangest places. Today that place was Jimmy Johns. I had kind of an icky day. Not horrible, but not great. After work I was meeting a friend at Jimmy Johns. She was late and I was cold and hungry and grumpy. Then, I read a poster on the wall and it made me smile kind of a lot. It's schmaltzy, reads a bit like a Hallmark, and it's way too long. I loved it. I genuinely hope you enjoy it half as much as I did.

I Believe...

...that just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to doesn't mean they don't love you with all they have.*

...that maturity has more to do with what types of experiences you've had and what you've learned from them and less to do with how many birthdays you've celebrated.

...that it isn't always enough to be forgiven by others. Sometimes you have to learn to forgive yourself.

...that no matter how bad your heart is broken that the world doesn't stop for your grief.

...that our background and circumstances may have influenced who we are, but we are responsible for who we become.*

...that just because two people argue, it doesn't mean they don't love each other. And just because they don't argue, it doesn't mean they do.

...that you shouldn't be eager to find out a secret.It could change your life forever.

...that it's taking me a long time to become the person I want to be.

...that you should always leave loved ones with loving well wishes. It may be the last time you see them.

...that you can keep going long after you can't. *

...that we are responsible for what we do, no matter how we feel.

...that we don't have to change friends, if we understand that friends change.

...that no matter how good a friend is, they're going to hurt you once in a while and you must forgive them for that. *

...that true friendship continues to grow, even over the longest distance. Same goes for true love.

...that you either control your attitude or it controls you.

...that regardless of how hot and steamy a relationship is at first, that passion fades and there had better be something else to take its place.

...that heroes are the people who do what has to be done when it needs to be done, regardless of the consequences.*

...that money is a lousy way of keeping score.

...that my best friend and I can do anything or nothing and have the best time.

...that sometimes the people you expect to kick you when you're down, will be the ones who help you get back up. *

...that two people can look at the exact same thing and see something totally different.

...that you can do something in an instant that will give you heartache for life.

...that your life can be changed in a matter of hours by people who don't even know you.

...that even when you think you have no more to give, when a friend cries out to you, you will find the strength to help.

...that credentials on the wall do not make you a decent human being.

...that the people you care about most in life are taken from you too soon.

* indicates personal favorites

Thanks to Brenda for taking the time to copy the poster.

Cat Nap.

This is Lula. She excels at nap taking.

A word on sushi.

Watching a new restaurant go in is always exciting. Over a period of months you eagerly watch the transformation from empty building to something spectacular. One day paper goes up on the windows . Then you see tools and work crews. Sooner or later, kitchen equipment is dragged in and out. Some bright fresh paint gets splashed in the door. Each step of the way is a clue as to what kind of restaurant is hiding behind those paper covered windows. Eventually the highly anticipated “Coming Soon…”sign goes up like a birth announcement. I live in a neighborhood in South Philadelphia that is in transition, which means I get to watch lots of empty storefronts make this amazing metamorphasis. It’s awesome and I love it.

A few months ago,an old storefront emerged with a very exciting sign. "Coming Soon...Izumi." Sushi? We were getting a new sushi restaurant opened in my largely Italian neighborhood. Wow! Keep in mind, my neighborhood’s most significant contribution to the culinary world, thus far, has been the cheesesteak. You can probably imagine in a place where red meat and Cheeze Whiz are king that a sushi place is just a little bit *out* there. I was ecstatic, thrilled, and overjoyed to see this kind of dining diversity moving in and making South Philly that much better!

Here’s the thing, I have no idea why I was so happy. The concept of sushi totally grosses me out. I feel like I should be someone who likes it, but I’m not. To be perfectly honest, I’m a little closed minded on the subject. The closest I want to get to it is this candy sushi from last weekend’s Willy Wonka themed birthday party.