Creep at the Carnival

Last night I felt like a creep. I didn’t do anything wrong, mind you.

We are preparing to go on a trip soon. I like to call them adventures; we don’t have much planned out yet. But we bought new heavy duty backpacks and we’re feeling pretty ready to go. My husband wanted to try them out, so since we were going to the local Catholic School carnival, we’d get some walking in and this could be a good opportunity to try them out.

He loaded mine up with books and water bottles, which I thought was a bit excessive, considering it won’t be our main luggage, but used mostly for a large daypack.

We got some pretty strange looks when we show up childless, huge backpacks and taking pictures. I felt like a predator trying to take pictures of carnival rides and treats for sentimental and blog sake, while trying to avoid capturing the children belonging to the parents eerily watching us. Maybe we should have gone on a ride or two, or not acted as awkward as we appeared. Maybe we should’ve played another game besides the one where you use a big rifle to shoot out the paper star. Maybe we shouldn’t have run off with that stroller…

Just kidding.

We aren’t creepy generally, but we definitely appeared odd. Needless to say, I captured some decent shots and we determined that our backpacks are sufficient enough to join us.

Note to self: Next time bring friends with kids so we don’t feel so out of place; or at least don’t look like we’re surveying prospective kids to kidnap and take camping.

Atlantic City: The Original Vegas

Atlantic City Boardwalk

Saturday was so beautiful in the Northeast. It was the perfect kind of day to spend in the garden, or divert the car towards Atlantic City.

So that’s what we did.

Eighty degrees, cloudless sky and a nice sea breeze. Add that to the smell of funnel cake, sunscreen and slurp down the experience with fresh lemonade, while strolling the boardwalk and recognizing street names you normally see on your Monopoly board.

Steel Pier, Atlantic City

Atlantic City is a diverse mix of people, but it has most everything that Vegas touts, except there’s an ocean and expansive boardwalk. No, Celine Dion isn’t playing Atlantic City every night and I’m ok with that, but there are shows to be seen. There are glitzy and glamorous nightclubs, casinos and hotels. The amusement rides may not be as sparkly and the exterior decor may be a little more worn, but there’s something to be said for the city by the sea.

I grew up being fascinated by films of ladies jumping their horses off diving boards next to Steel Pier and photos of the old timers who wore their Sunday best as they wandered the boards in the early 20th century. I’ve also watched a lot of Boardwalk Empire on HBO, and though I know its primarily fictional stories written for entertainment, I have no doubt that Prohibition brought waves of crime and corruption that still linger today. Feeling that way does take away from the nostalgia of flapper girls and their shiny cigarette cases and replaces it with heroin chic society types that rival fashion models of the 90’s.

Atlantic City is an accessible city. It is a little less sparkly but nice equivalent to a five hour plane right to Nevada from the East Coast. But just like Vegas, don’t wander too far off the “strip” in Atlantic City; unless you’re looking for some non-fiction CSI type experiences. Also, get some saltwater taffy; it’s so good and the remnants of it can be tasted for days since it’ll be stuck in your molars. That might be an exaggeration, but in all honesty, stop at James’.  If taffy isn’t your thing, drop by the Whiskey Tavern in the new Revel casino, order an Old Fashioned and slip into shiny 1925 subway tile heaven.

James’ Salt Water Taffy

The Leprechaun and the Pilot

Today is a day that I’m not feeling particularly inspired by anything.  To the picture files we go!

I found this picture, taken from one of those old razor phones, about four years ago.  It is the epitome of my husband and I.  You can almost sum up how much fun we have together by this picture, but I promise we’re not too weird.  We just like to have fun.  I think my Mom was the original recipient of this picture.  This pretty much seals the deal regarding whether or not our family knew we were meant to be.

My husband and I met in San Diego, before we reached the drinking age.  This meant that we were in that stage between high school and the San Diego bar (meat market) scene.  It also meant our dates had to be creative because we are both old souls who were far older than the candles on our birthday cakes.  He began taking me to “fun” places right off the bat.  We went to theme parks and ran around like kids.  It was good for us, particularly me, because I knew how to have fun but I can easily find myself becoming too serious and stiff if I’m not forced into playing.

I’d say within the first month, we started picking up silly hats wherever we went and posing in pictures with them.  The last time I checked, we had three Rubbermaid tubs full of hats and random costume gear.  Needless to say, we’ve since taken most holidays and definitely Halloween a lot more seriously since we met each other.  As a matter of fact, we’re currently in preparation of our favorite Leprechaun making his appearance next week.  Our friends tease us, but they agree they wouldn’t want us any other way.  I like that we are not so straight laced when we want to be, that we can loosen up and not take things so seriously.

We came across these particular disguises in preparation to our move to the East Coast, my original home.  You can tell by the fuzziness and randomness captured, that we never intended to actually publish this picture anywhere, but I can’t help but smile when I see it.  He’s wearing a couple key pieces to his famous Leprechaun costume, and I’m wearing a child’s pilot cap we bought in an airport.  The rest is just unfortunate, before my nose job and before I began waxing.  I love that hat.

Note for Philadelphians:   If you run into us on St. Paddy’s Day, and you’ll know who we are, do say hello.  If you are a slutty drunk girl who is pretending to be Irish, restrain yourself from asking to take kinky pictures with my husband.  You’d think I wouldn’t need to say that.