"Christmas IS for Kids"

When PinF was a kid Christmas was always a special time. And as quickly my mother would begin hiding the gifts, my brothers and I would begin to run reconnaissance snooping missions, trying to discover anything we could. My father on the otherhand would seemingly go about his business as usual, going to work and coming home, not really seeming affected by the season. His standard mantra throughout the holiday season was "Christmas is for kids", almost Grinch-ingly begrudging the joy we as children had for the holiday. He was into it and all, just a bit jaded I guess.

Sure enough as I have become a father myself, I can kind of find a kinship with these sentiments, since Christmas has become even more of a commercial barrage than it ever was when I was a kid. Truth be told, if I didn't have a child I'm not sure I'd even have a tree this year. PinF is preparing to celebrate his first Christmas in a long time as a single man again, something I'm actually OK with, instead worrying more for my daughter's welfare as she prepares to go through this holiday season with "her" family split and her parents in two different houses.

So all last this week and last, Sophia has been with me full-time as her mother visits her family abroad, not exactly an easy task, what with preparing lunches, ironing her uniforms for school, doing her homework, cooking dinner, giving baths (taming her wild hair afterwards), and then waking her up, preparing breakfast, doing her hair (I'm getting better everyday). All of this while trying to get myself ready, and timing it all perfect so as to get her to school in time enough to allow me the time to get to work. Phew. The point? We spend hours talking, playing, doing homework, and talking. Lately the majority of our talks have revolved around---you guessed it, Christmas.

So Monday I pick up my little chatty Cathy and she's totally aglow having just gotten her first report card with grades as opposed to the checkmarks that are used in 1st grade. Pride doesn't quite describe how I felt when I saw the 4-A's and 1-B on her report card. My pride was secondary to my joy in seeing her sense of achievement and accomplishment as a result of her study habits and discipline, not to mention the extra work we put into her math studies (B). Coincidentally enough when I picked her up at her friend's parent's that Monday afternoon they had just purchased their tree (Nov. 28), this wasn't going to bode well with my avoiding the onset of the holiday. All the way home she peppered me with "when can we get our tree" , with me responding "maybe this week-end". Truth is, I wasn't really in any hurry to be buying trees when we're still in November, not to mention I just wasn't feeling it as of late. Today I realized this was selfish and narrow-minded, and wasn't taking into account her excitement for the holiday season.

So today I just felt like I should get the damn tree and started remembering what it was like when I was a kid and just how excited you do get, not to mention I was still feeling chuffed over her report card and figured she deserved a treat. As soon as I picked her up I drove straight to the tree stand without saying a word, as we approached she figured out it was "time" and you could see her face lighting up, and the closer we got to the trees the more I was excited to let her pick whichever one she wanted. Afterall, this has been a tough year on everyone-- especially her, so I wanted to see her happy and if she wanted a tree on the last day in November-- than so be it. We then had to buy a stand, lights and a whole host of peripherals. Sophia was beaming, and I was feeling pretty smart myself. When we got home, she did her homework while I cooked dinner and I had a feeling so I asked her to check the TV guide to see what was on, and guess what was? Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. Talk a bout a time warp, how weird is it to sit and watch the very show I would watch year in and year out as a child with my brothers. These shows to children are such a part of the whole holiday season. So there we sat eating our ice cream, watching a show I must have seen at least 20 times in my life, with the Douglas Fir wafting throughout the house.

My dad was right, Christmas is for kids. What he didn't tell us was that there's a kid in all of us, no matter how old you are. And so for about an hour I was a kid again with Sophia, remembering the days many years ago sitting in Drexel Hill with my brothers just as she will one day remember these times as her memories. So PinF has officially begun his Christmas season courtesy of the gentle, persistent, prodding of his "kid". PinF is all the more thankful for Sophia having reminded me that Christmas is for kids, and that as adults we have to remember this and not get caught up in our own day-to-day distractions. So bring on The Grinch and Frosty, I'm ready now.

Good Riddance

End of Hurricane Season Party tonight @ PinF's 8PM until ?....... attendance: Mandatory.
As a courtesy, PinF has begun the ticketing process for all fans of PinF. I just woke up and poured some rum in my coffee to start the celebration, yoohoo.

Reaping the Bounty

Ok, so I'm sure everyone's Thanksgiving was delicious. With this in mind, I'm not going to go into any great detail regarding PinF's meal, it was delicious, and the day was full of poignancy and fun. The weather was quite spectacular-- sunny, hot, and just about as beautiful as could be. There's something weird about starting your day looking at chilly spectators lining a parade route at some northeast parade on TV, and then stepping outside in bare feet and shorts. It takes a little getting used too, but believe me once you are, it's almost hard to imagine your holiday any other way. Sophia and I used this weather as a springboard for our entire extended weekend, one that featured the motorcycle quite a bit.

Saturday Sophie and I loaded up and headed out at 10AM for the West Palm Beach green market. One of the nice aspects of Florida in the winter is the variety of outdoor events that take place more regularly because of the cooler weather. Art festivals, musical events, and of course the venerable green markets, an event which harkens back to the day when the farmers located about 30 miles west of the coast would bring their bounty to the street markets. Of course the idea has been polished a bit, probably because of the fact that we're two miles from Palm Beach island, still there are the mom and pop farmers alongside the nouveau "goatcheese" dealers and florists, all of which make for a nice little market. These little markets spring up in every community from October to April, just in time to capture the flowing dollars of our neighbors to the north while also complimenting the almost spring-like winter weather.

Of course along with the farmers, bakers, florists, and other agricultural tenants come other "lesser" known purveyors of goods and services. These are the one's that make the market, they give it color and fun. Take for instance the old man playing the flute...people don't realize that this was integral part of agriculture back in the day, as the farmers didn't have jam boxes back then. These men were the "charmers" playing to get the fields to grow I suppose. Sophia and I especially liked when he went into some christmas selections. This guy garnered several dollars from Sophie and I due to his ingenuity and skill, not to mention his ability to really play to his crowd with those christmas favorites.

Moving along we started to notice the decidedly "christmas" feel to the market, as Sophia spied some pine cone christmas trees on a table being sold by a florist. Of course they were crafty and eye catching so I naturally told Sophia to pick "one".......suffice to say I spent twenty minutes at the table while she tried to whittle me down to purchasing three, as she couldn't "pick just one". Eventually she did choose one, and we were free to once again move about in the beautiful sunshiney day......where exactly the "pine-cone christmas tree maker" fits in to the agriculture of yesteryear I'm not really sure.

By now Sophie and I were getting our groove, and after sampling numerous items of cheese, croissants, and other tidbits we were in search of the real Florida. We found it in a very unlikely place in the form of a young man plying his "agriculturally rich" trade on the side walk. His service left very little to purchase, but as he demonstrated I could imagine the farmers of yester-year being motivated to harvest even more bounty. Struggle as I did with the sense of allowing this young man into a "green" market, Sophia seemed to get a bigger kick out of this guy than anyone. He was nothing if not enterprising, his skill was "magic tricks" and he seemed quite nice too, he gave Sophia three card tricks for a dollar.

Just as I began to wonder what type of farmer's market employs card tricks as a featured "service", Sophia and I stumbled upon another highlight of the market. I spotted a dread-locked young man with happy grin and a large mug of coffee, just chilling and feeling no particlar need to "hawk" his goods like the many other vendors. His approach was much more laid back, as he let his artwork speak for itself. I use the term "artwork" loosely, as his work was both art and implement. Following a centuries old craft he constructs various hats and goods from the ever abundant palm fronds found, well-- just about anywhere here in Florida. Still this was a big favorite of PinF and daughter, especially with the little bird add-on that sprouts from the top of the hat. Malcom was from the British Virgin Islands, and his wares were expertly made, unlike some other vendors I could actually imagine a farmworker using his items.

By now the sun was high and hot in the sky, and it was approaching 11:30 AM, Sophia and I had already agreed upon a lunch outside on the promenade surrounding the fountain at Bellagio at City Place but we first had an appointment at Barne's&Noble. Sophie adores the bookstore, again something I thank God for as she has little knowledge of any video games and for good reason. These were banned by act of parental decree some 4 years ago by none other than PinF, as I run a democratic-dictatorship--this is where we openly discuss all issues and I make the final ruling, with I might add-- no room for appeal or input. I've seen the effects of children who sit on a couch all day thumbing away at some fantasy land, so I decided early on that they were banned, and not only for Sophia, but anyone, friend or family that might bring them into my house. Sophia is all the wiser for this decision, and to be honest, she doesn't miss what she's never had. She loves books, and this makes PinF very happy to purchase them for her whenever she wants them. Before heading uptown on the bike we stopped at the fountains of Clematis Street in downtown West Palm where I took this photo. After this Sophia wanted to take a photo of me, so after manning the camera all day I allowed her one shot. We finally headed off to the bookstore and our lunch, something that we were both looking forward to as Bellagio is a great Italian restaurant to just people watch-- not to mention great food.

Sophia and I were able to secure a key table on the plaza, with the giant christmas tree set off to the right of the dancing water fountains. We both reviewed our ride and our day, relishing in all the fun moments and colorful characters we had met. Sophia ordered her standard: penne pasta, butter only with a side of crusty bread and butter. I had the beef carpaciao with mixed greens and fresh shaved parmigano in a balsamic vinegarette. Suffice to say we were both very content, she with her new books and me just relishing the moment. I recognize all too well how my time with her will slip away unseen someday. For now I make a point of trying to savor each little moment and make a fuss out of the ordinary, becuase I know she'll remember the "big moments" of her life, I'm trying to help her remember the simpler one's like today. As we ate we commented on well, everything-- the people, the pigeons who kept begging-- and why we shouldn't feed them, and of course christmas. Still we had other fun to be had, we were on our way to meet her girlfriend Sofia, and go the beach for the rest of the day. Sofia, same name different spelling, has been Sophia's friend since pre-school and she too is bi-lingual, so these two are like two peas in a pod.

The beach was just gorgeous. Blue water, sunny skies, and lots of people. Sophia and Sofia played while I just enjoyed the scene, taking it all in and musing over my holiday weekend. In many ways it was nice not to be home for the holiday surrounded by the demands and pressures that short visits inevitably bring. Of course there is no replacing the familiarity of family and friends, though the longer I stay in Florida the more I realize that "home" is where my daughter and I are, not where my memories are. This is without doubt the hardest aspect of being a PinF during the holidays and recent crisis with my father. My heart is in Florida and my thoughts are in Philly, something I suppose will always be that way. All things considered I can deal with this as life is all about change, something that like the green markets of winter, come and go.

Duncan Hines Sucks (and other truths)

PinF was born on Thanksgiving Day 1962.

Of course my birthday doesn't always fall on the holiday, still Thanksgiving always reminds PinF of his birthday because as a child this is when the birthday hoopla would take place. Growing up with four brothers we usually celebrated Thanksgiving dinner at our house, as road trips with a family would be difficult, not to mention who wants to invite 7 people? As kids I think this was just fine with all of us as we had things to do; football in the street, the parade, ride your bikes and any other activity that celebrated your freedom from school. Of course nothing beat mom's cooking anyway, to look at any of the Paynter boys today you'd never know what finicky eaters we all were as kids.

The normal attendance at my parent's home for the Thanksgivings of my youth was always my father's mother, mom-mom. An incredible woman who herself was a nurse for fifty+ years right up until her death at age 74 in 1981. I think of this often as I've watched my father respond to the nurses attending him and have wondered if he feels just a bit more nearer his mother. Though now as a parent myself, I can see more objectively both the blessings and the curses of this woman, though curse is probably too harsh a word. She was loving too a fault, which usually meant she stuck her nose where often times it didn't belong when it came to issues of ether of my parents reprimanding us kids. This of course would cause friction between my parents and so on. So the Thanksgivings of my youth are peppered with the inevitable family conflict. But that's family right? And isn't it usually the most emotion packed holidays when tensions and troubles seem to rise like a souffle? So this is what you'd have: the doting grandmother, a lifelong artist friend Mina Smith from Philadelphia, and either my mother's twin sister's or occasionally her oldest most controlling sister, the one we all have-- Aunt Mary. So put all these people in a bag- shake for 5 minutes, open and distribute around the dining room table, sprinkle 5 boys seperated by 11 years and you have the perfect recipe for the typical Thanksgiving. These are funny memories that I know all brothers remember, in different ways mind you, but for better or worse, they're OUR special bonding and shared pasts of years gone by. This is one of the special dividends you get with siblings, especially grouped close in age-- you all get a history of your entire lives, the funny the bad, the embarassments, the triumphs, and everything else in between.

My parent's were fun parents, whereas some people might have felt overwhelmed with the thought of taking 5 boys in a car downtown for the parade, they didn't. We all would go, this is without doubt an experience all children should enjoy at least once in their live's. I've already brought my own daughter to the parade in Philly twice. Nothing prepared you for a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner like the chilly air of the parade, added to this the warmth of the fireplace surrounded by family and friends and you a memorable day. My mother for all her skills in the kitchen would inevitably bake my "birthday cake" every year, I say this in quotations because just as inevitably, something would always happen to that damn cake. I know if my mom is reading this now she's cracking up and smiling ear to ear, because my mom's nothing if not able to laugh hardest at herself. A trait learned I'm sure, by doing nothing less than living life head on and taking all it has to offer. I am very thankful for her indeed. God bless her becuase every year she would "doctor" the cake before presenting it, and every year there would be the obligatory apology for this year's "problem" . I'm cracking up recalling this now.....and if I'm being honest, and I AM, I clearly remember being 7, 8, or 9 years-old, and lying like a child does when he doesn't want his parent's to know that the kid knows there's no Santa Claus. I would say things like "it's ok Mom" , or "It's great, really it doesn't taste burnt?" So concerned was I with hurting her feelings during an obviously pressured filled day, that the cake's quality wasn't what was important. So as it often does in life, the holiday meal preparation would inevitably fall apart at its weakest point--this was usually the Duncan Hines "link" of the chain. Normally the "incidents" were always the same culprits, they would usually include-"left in the oven too long", or baked without one of the few ingredients, in an absent minded moment of confusion. My mother and I have laughed long and loud over these memories, and sitting here now I chuckle as I recall the debacles of my "cakes". Though I know too, that I wouldn't have had it any other way. This takes nothing away from meal though, they were always perfectly delicious- especially that corn casserole.

My phone was ringing at 8AM today with no caller ID. As I have the last few weeks, I steel myself with every Philadelphia area code call, odd hour-of-the-day calls, and the one's with no caller ID. I was just preparing the coffee, checking the bird, and planning my day when it rang. Sophia was yet to wake and I was tuning in the parade for her. The caller identified himself as Dr. Jones, he assured me first that his call was not related to any change in my father's status. He was calling to inform me that my father was scheduled to have a cardiac procedure to clear a major artery already precariously blocked; I being the Power of Attorney he was in need of my authorization. As he droned on about the "percentages" of complications, the possible outcomes, and a host of other technical, yet necessary information regarding William Paynter patient, as opposed to Bill Paynter my father, I patiently listened. He was nothing if not the most thorough man I've spoken to, and his tone was one of genuine care and professional confidence. He asked me if I had any questions and I mustered one or two foggy queries. With that it was done. He will be taken at 9AM tomorrow for yet another procedure, all which I must keep asking myself whether I am making the right choices. As of now, I am. He's making progress and I must allow for him every chance to build on his progress. Still it's difficult.

PinF was extremely blessed the other day to receive birthday wishes from all over the globe, in the form of email's, phone calls, and cards. Still the one thing that I realized more than any other, was that this was the first year of my entire life that I have not spoken to my father on my birthday. This call this morning had the same effect on me, it made me realize that as much as my life is "happening" right now with regards to planning mine and Sophia's dinner, watching the parade, and planning a beach trip, he is "there". Here the man that has been at the "head of table" of so many of those dinners of my past is now spending his Thanksgiving where he did 43 years ago waiting for me and my mom--in the hospital. It kind of brought the whole situation to the forefront to start my day with a surgeon, an obviously dedicated man, as he was calling me from just outside my father's room from the nurse's station on Thanksgiving holiday too. In one respect you want to humanize the process and make him understand that this is the man who carved so many turkeys, held me up for the parade, and threw the long bomb to us on the field. But you know you can't. That is just emotions of the moment rising when you hear the cold, calculated, language of medical reasoning, even as I know it is not possible for this Doctor to see your emotions, love, or yearnings for the person you know, to return.

So it's on with the show, as I'm sure my father would want it no other way. I have a little girl to chew my ear all day about her Christmas list, how lucky her cousins are that they live in Philly and can go to the parade, and how she wants snow too. Of course I could have never imagined reliving the summers of my youth on a beach Thanksgiving Day, but to her this is what she knows, so the uniqueness is lost on her. Little does she know her cousins would trade places in heatbeat to be going to the beach to make a sand castle while the turkey bastes. That's the funny part of life, how as children(and some adults), we always want what we don't have, when in actuality she has an 80* day without a cloud in the sky to enjoy in her bathing suit in the sand. My father loves the beach, and I shall remember him today as I look out at this beautiful day and I'll say a little prayer instead of running all the medical odds throught my mind that his Doctor most thoroughly started my day with. Still in many ways I'm much more thankful than I would have imagined a few weeks ago, my father has a fighting chance and no one's giving up on him, for this he has himself to thank . I'll miss my brothers, mother, and various other guests today as they gather in Manayunk, though I'll be in touch by phone, and I'll kind of be there by memory too.

As for right now, PinF can smell the bacon calling him and my coffee mug is empty. Sophia lies behind in me bed watching the parade schreeching with excitement of her pop star favorites and complaining "how they're soo lucky!!" to all the spectators. As I look outside, there's a cobalt-blue sky with a brilliantly unobstructed sun, temperatures are rising and so is PinF's yearning to get to the beach and really be so thankful for so very much. That's today's story, Thursday November, 25 2005 in the life of PinF.

God Bless All.

Wise not Old

Tuesday, November 22 2005

You may feel you are in the right place today--everything just automatically falls into place. All the numbers add up and there are no complaints from the public, especially if you are working in a Complaint Department or in an Employee Department. Money benefits come your way today. This is a nice day that should just flow along. Enjoy the company of your loved ones this afternoon. Meditate to relax your mind. This evening you will do well in activities that include children, young people and your home and surroundings. You could feel real support and harmony at this time for circumstances and those around you. You are compassionate. You also enjoy serving others, you worry about their welfare. Let others serve you for a change.


If you look carefully, you'll see the passing sailboat, further proof that Paynter-truly-is-in-Florida. Today is my birthday-- no fanfare just a little dinner with Sophia. Who's believing 4? years ago today my poor mother was stuck in Delaware County Memorial on Thanksgiving day having her own butterball. I've always felt mothers should join in on their children's birthdays as if it were theirs too, I mean they did all the work. So happy anniversary of my birth to my mom, and happy birthday to me. Another year, jeez where do they go?

Giving Thanks

I've been back in Florida almost a week now and I am only now starting to feel as though I'm really "here", still I give thanks. Separating my concerns for what has obviously been an ongoing and worrisome situation back in Philly, and trying to focus on Sophia and my job has not been easy. Added to this equation the upcoming over-hyped, hyper commercialized, holiday season blitz and it's enough to make you wanna retreat to an little island somewhere. Of course this isn't an option either, since all of my concerns and responsibilities would be hovering over my umbrella on the beach as I enjoyed my ice cold Corona.

Arriving home was good, Sophia and her mother came to Pick me up from Palm Beach airport. Owing to the fact that my bag had not yet appeared on the carousel, Sophia jumped out of the car and came inside to wait with me as her mami did another pass around the airport. There's nothing like the adoration of your child to make things seem better as she clung to me like lint from a dryer. For this alone I gave thanks. We talked about school, her field trip, oh and her math test was a proud topic as well. Of course what she really wanted to know was what had I brought her, as I always pick up something for her when I travel.

Sophie had patiently waited for me to see the premiere of Zathura, since we always do movies together, she had even declined seeing it with friends until I arrived- funny kid. After two days of work I had a weekend to finally give her the attention she deserved and that I missed. Friday night started out with another premiere: Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire. Now PinF isn't that big a fan of HP movies, still it seemed the thing to do with all the buzz surrounding the movie so off we went. As we arrived Sophie and I noticed all the kids dressed as different little characters, it was as if HP was to kids what Rocky Horror was to adults. If I saw one more kid in round spectacles waving a wand....thank God she's not into that. The movie was decent, the special effects mesmerizing, we ate popcorn and Goobers-- our standard fare for movies. Again as I sat there with her I gave thanks for such simple pleasures.

We continued on with our weekend, a rainy one but warm. Started Saturday with a pancake breakfast and some music. Then we did something I hadn't done for a long time, we broke out some magazines and glue sticks and made a collage laughing and joking all afternoon. It was pretty good actually, as she is a creative little girl. We used some old Philadelphia magazines so of course the collage had a Philly slant to it, as she considers herself a "Philly girl" which is kind of funny too. As the rain pounded the windows we spent the day just relaxing with our project, both us content in the moment and each other's company. Moments like these make me give thanks too. The afternoon was the highlight as we went to the Publix and bought all the ingredients for chocolate chip cookies and spent the rest of the day baking, this was fun. It brought back warm memories of my own childhood, when I too would get to eat the cookie dough from the bowl. Funny how in life there really are constants to draw memory from, and toll house cookies are one of them. No matter how long ago you made them, the recipe guarantees the same exact taste that you remember. Give thanks for this.

Sunday we awoke and went to mass after which Sophie went to Catetchism class in preparation for her Holy Communion. This allowed me a power hour to get the Sunday paper and peruse over it while enjoying a Stabucks caramel machiato. Sophia loves Sunday school, I mean really loves it. Funny because I can remember my brothers and I skipping St. Charles mass and Sunday school in Drexel Hill and then taking our collection money and buying penny candy. From there we would go to the "trestle" that carried the trolleys over the creek and hide out, making each other laugh with mouthfuls of candy. Ultimately we would then devote a certain amount of time to getting our stories straight before heading home for Sunday breakfast. That she loves Sunday school I am also thankful for, mystified--but thankful just the same.

Sunday was rainy too. Weekends like these begin to cut into a parent's imaginative creativity. It is because of this that I give thanks on days like these that I am parent to one child, and not three or four. When we returned from church I promised Sophie I would take her to Build-a-Bear to get a new holiday outfit for her bear. We were both feeling the slight effects of cabin fever so it was actually nice to visit a mall for once, something PinF does not normally enjoy. After "bathing" the bear and dressing her in her new outfit there was another issue to tend to. I had brought Sophia to have her ears pierced in August, she naturally chose the cubic zirconia "bling" from Claire's. For anyone who has never been to Claire's, well let's just say it's more of a mami/daughter place as it was next to impossible to get her out of the store, it's also quite simply put, nivana for young girly girls. Yet here I was heading back into the belly of the beast because Sophia had taken one earing out and had waited a few days before putting it back in. The young lady informed me the hole had filled in, ouch. This meant a re-piercing and Sophia wasn't really down with that. We got it done anyway with the promise/bribe of a small binge shop in Claire's if she complied. She put on a brave face and got through it, promising me that she would not take out these earings until Valentines, at which time the holes would be a bit more permanent. Her consternation at having to re-pierce the ear was lightened up when she told me that I didn't know what it felt like, at which I revealed I did, and that I had once pierced my ear. She's still asking me questions about this. I gave thanks that she got through it.

We arrived home and each of us quickly changed into our Eagles paraphanalia; she in her pink hat and pink Eagles shirt, me in my green Eagles hat. We watched the first few minutes, and then she bailed, choosing instead to work on the computer. The Eagles of course let us down again though we each shrugged it off and continued our weekend. Dinner was meatballs and spaghetti followed by the chocolate chip cookies. Homework was a snap, and then it was bath time and off to bed by 8:45. I spent the last hour ironing her uniform and making her lunch savoring the laid back weekend I had with a funny little seven year-old, while marveling at all we had accomplished, though none of what we did ever seemed forced. I turned the lights out and made sure she had her blanket on, and as I looked in on her I thought of my father and how child-like he too seemed and I wondered how he was. I gave her a kiss and gave thanks for the wonderful little person I was given.

As we head into the Thanksgiving week it's so easy to get caught up in the day to day grind, worrying about what we don't have. The funny thing about Americans is exactly that, we worry about what we don't have, whereas most of the world worries about what they don't have, but really need. We are such a pampered bunch of commercial consumers that we forget our blessings, and focus more on the "stuff" in life. Case in point: the mall yesterday, how obscene has Christmas become that a little after Halloween you begin to be bombarded with the commercial blitz. In a era of families whose father's, son's, and mother's, are soldiers dying far from home, and hundreds of thousands of people are still displaced by natural calamities, it's almost sinful to worry about what you haven't got. I'm just as guilty mind you, though weekends like the one I just had do tend to draw me back into what's really important and what I ought to be really thankful for. And so I am, having just been through the ongoing process of my father's medial condition and then to have that contrasted by the spirit of my daughter's zest for life. I will try to give thanks for the simple, more obvious blessings, and care less for what I have not got that I do not need.

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you from PinF.

Songs in Our Hearts

I'm preparing to leave now, my father still fighting and still refusing to cede his earthly existence. Of course I expected a much more sad outcome when I left Palm Beach on Saturday, so this is in many ways is great news. One thing I have learned during this ordeal is that even the smallest of medical triumphs create ten more questions, often one's I don't have the answers to. What I have tried to do through this is stay in the moment, never letting myself veer to far ahead of the situation, which as humans we're all guilty of from time to time. So I will visit today and let my father know this time I am leaving, as he seems to have some of his cognition. I will return as his improvement warrants, though for now I know my presence is needed back "home", even though I have many, many, memories as well as friends and family here in Pennsylvania; my home is in Florida with my daughter.

However upsetting the past month has been, it has been at times equal parts joy and fun. PinF was raised in a household of music. I thought to myself as I looked on at my three brothers at Sligo's, how many people there would be surprised to know that my mother is very much responsible for the show they were seeing. Having learned the guitar while she was still raising her five sons, PinF can recall many nights sitting at kitchen table singing with his mother to famous folk songs. PinF's father was always a lover of music as well, though his love was for the listening enjoyment that the songs and the music gave. I remember going over to Lansdowne Avenue as a boy with my dad to the record store so he could purchase the latest Johnny Cash album, something we as his son's were all raised on. I was recalling a fond memory of how when we were all children, my parents took all of us to the Spectrum to see Johnny Cash live in 1969 or so. I guess they couldn't get a babysitter.

My mom was more hip with the music, Carly Simon, Carole King, and James Taylor come to mind as music of my youth, something quite cool as I could listen to any one of these singers today and they would still be cutting edge. It was many a reggae shows she attended with all of her son's as well. So it's always been about the music in our family, mom playing and dad cranking corny country stars on the stereo. Still, it would be our youngest brother Scott who would benefit most directly from my mother's guitar skills, learning at age 7 or 8 to play, everyone else who plays either learned later in life, or in the case of my brother Bill--was self taught.

The music has always revolved around all of us, so when I arrived at the hospital Sunday morning I had my CD walkman and a set of earplugs; figuring one many can only watch so much TV. Not to mention I know how my father LOVES Frank Sinatra, so I intended to allow him to "leave" that hospital room and drift off to better and less painful times. It worked. No sooner had I put the ear plugs in and the dulcet tones of Frank began to fill his ears he seemed less tense, he even let out a smile. Then he started to try to snap his fingers, he couldn't, but I knew what he was trying to do. It was all about the music again, he was for the first time probably free of all his pain and worry and I could see in him the peace of the moment.

The power of music has never been lost on anyone in our family as we have such diverse tastes that nothing really surprises any of us. The other night of music proved that power yet again as I looked around the room and saw the numerous family and friends who had come, all drawn to the music. It was an incredibly pressure releasing event, allowing all of us to just put down all our troubles of the past few weeks and enjoy with so many special people in our lives. Many of the friends I saw are friends I have known and loved for thirty years or more, their own lives woven into mine. These are the people who color us in, these are the one's who "knew us when", nights such as these are made more special by their presence. I had the good fortune to be contacted by so many old friends during my father's illness, some I had not heard from in years. Each of them brought their own tune to my father's still playing song of life, and for this I am touched and grateful. They know who they are, and how much their words and company has meant to myself and indeed all of my brothers over the past month.

So as I prepare to leave, I ready myself to go out the way I came in--with music in my ears. My father is far from out of the woods, but he's making progress, so I'll monitor events for a while from home and see where we go from here. Still it was kind of neat to see the music bind us all as one this weekend, though my father would have loved to have been there, I know in his own way he was "there", listening instead to Johnny Cash, and Frank Sinatra. The music has always been our bond, and it's nice to see how it can bond through the tough times just as easily as the good. It's easy to have a song playing in your ears, the secret is to get it to play in your heart. PinF will touch base with you all when he returns to FLORIDA. Be well.

The Winds of Change

Let me assure all my readers and friends that PinF has survived Wilma. Thank you all for your inquiries and emails regarding mine and Sophie's well being, all of which I was unable to receive due to the extensive loss of power in S. Florida. PinF has arrived in Pennsylvania to tend to more pressing matters regarding my father's health. My journey wasn't easy as I had to drive 180 miles to Orlando with the possibility of no gas stations open along the way board a flight. My reservation was worthless due to the devestation and loss of electricity in West Palm Beach.

A current posting is long overdue; though the inspiration for such hasn't exactly been there. PinF is very much back in the same "life-limbo" he was in July when he was recalled from Florida to tend to his father, only this time it is much more grave. Couple all this with the stress and worry that comes with a hurricane, and you have a neglected blog. Nevertheless I'm also keenly aware of just how many of you have come to rely on these frivilous postings as much as your morning coffee's, as such I am duty bound to report in. So many of you have responded with words of support and encouragment; many of whom I've never even met which makes your words even more helpful and humbling.

As I was "hunkered" down in my house during Wilma I was thinking two things: 1. How bad the weathermen screwed up the forecast, and 2. How insignificant our trivial worries and responsibilities are. Something about 125 MPH winds make you put your priorities in order, and slowly you become less concerned with bills, salaries, work related issues, cars, and possesions until you are stripped down of your wordly worries and just praying to yourself and to your God that you make it through this. That's where I was one week ago today, in my closet under my stairs with my cat, listening as the roof started to go, and then the fence, not to mention the trees and someone's F-150 cap. It was the first time that I can remember being scared since I was eight and climbed the ladder of highdive at our swimclub only to realize I hadn't any interest in jumping from a height into water I was barely able to tread in.

My thoughts were of my daughter and my family. Nothing else really mattered, I didn't care about the car, the motorcycle, hell I didn't care about the house; all I wanted was for this hideously moaning wind to stop. It did, for about an hour. I was in the "eye", and ever so slowly myself and my communitie's neighbors all started to assemble outside and begin to assess the damage. It was extensive, trees down on cars and houses, broken gas main's- which incredibly were responded to by the emergency officials. My roof was 1/3 ripped of it's cedar shingles, my 6 foot privacy fence was shattered, giving me a newer style of privacy. PinF went immediately across the way to check on his elderly neighbor, an 80 yr old gem of a woman named Doris from Kentucky, she too was fine. We all exchanged stories, had a beer or two and then quickly scattered as the "backend" of the storm began to roar. This was to be far more terrifying and destructive than the first 3 hour session.

Suffice to say PinF made it. He dealt with the loss of power and infrastructure and began the immediate clean-up of his area. Then I attempted to call the airlines to cxl my next day flight, unbeknowst to me that Wilma already had. I was to be thwarted from leaving S. Florida for two more days, my father's condition steadily deteriorating, until finally I took the move of driving to Orlando on what gas I had and catching a flight from there.

None of this was easy. None of this was fun. But as I've told the few people who've asked I still feel only "inconvenienced", and not really destroyed by this. I need only look to New Orleans, Pakistan, and Guatemala to see the depth of complete despair coupled with the loss of hope. For when hope is lost, all is lost. PinF lost some roof tiles, and a fence, and all of his refrigerated goods. What PinF gained was a truer understanding of his own temporary human existance and a much clearer unbderstanding of what really matters in life, and that is just that- LIFE. All the other shit is stuff we choose to clutter our minds with, never really thinking that everthing is a gamble and that we all walk the thin line, and that thin line is likely to snap when all of us least expect it.

My father's current predicament is an example of this thin line. So is my being here again. My priorities are clear: work, bills, and hurricane clean-up can wait. What matters most to me is life, and unlike a week ago it isn't mine that matters now but my dad's.

Para-dicey

Well the rent is due. PinF has watched and waited for 5 months as people throughout the gulf and carribean have been besieged with catastrophic hurricanes. Now it's our turn. Another alphabet killer, this time named Wilma is on the way. Quite a contrast from what I've just seen as I cycled down and back this past weekend. I saw crystal turquoise blue waters and sun-drenched islands of bleach white sand. Here is where life moves at a considerably different pace, and where clocks really have little sway over the locals. Tiki huts populate the upper keys as you make your way towards Key West, offering cold beer and conch fritters and plenty of locals with fish tales. It's enough to make one wonder if anyone works here, as it seems everyone's kind of on an extended holiday.

The reminders of past hurricane's and their power are everywhere. The most notably obvious are the ruins that run parallel to the Over Seas highway, these are long since battered remants of the original highway and railroad that were washed out by past hurricanes. These are all sobering reminders of the power of nature and the vulnerability of these island gems that are strung out 170 miles into the Atlantic ocean. For anyone who has never been, this is a must see area of this incredibly large country of our's.

I was enjoying my ride rumbling down through Keys anticipating all that is Key West: the revelry, the music, and the food. Of course there is the sunset too. I met up with a life long good friend from Pennsylvania Laurie MacLaughlin and her parents, herself a resident of the Keys for almost 20 years as are her parents who retired here a few years ago. Her work as a marine biologist with NOAA is what brought her here-- and I beleive keeps her here, as she is passionate about the reef and its preservation. We spent a great evening enjoying good food, good drink and then a little of night life. I was treated to wonderful hospitality and a comfortable bed, all much appreciated after an often rain soaked ride down.

Now it's back to the reality of what is coming. I wonder how Sophia is handling this, as the TV is non-stop with it's forecasts, and of course everyone starts talking bout this, not to mention probably even the school itself. Weighing even heavier on my mind is my father's health. He was involved in auto accident last week and has now slipped back into a very uncertain state, and is currently in ICU. The true dilemma will arise if his condition worsens, as I am now in for the immediate haul to make sure Sophia is protected with the impending storm, a fact I made the Pennsylvania Doctor aware of. I also realize and can imagine if my father could communicate to me, he would tell me to be here for my daughter, that he'd be ok, that's just the way he is; of course I'm torn all the same. Still the most important thing in getting a child through this type of ordeal is putting up a calm front. I realize that Sophia, and indeed all children take there cues from their parents in times of crisis, so as worried as I am for my father and of course our collective safety here, I cannot afford top be anything but calm and confident.

Of course Sophia and I have been through this before with Frances and Jeanne last year, and she has witnessed for herself the power that is a hurricane. She missed quite a bit of school as well, having lost power to our entire area for 7 days. So we wait; we watch the weather, and we prepare as best you can. You take the precautions that need to be taken, you make sure your vehicle has plenty of gas so as not to be caught in the panic. I did that this morning, so at lunch I will gather up the non perishables I am short on and then go over a plan with my buddy John and Sophia's mother, as I am still concerned for her safety as well. I have a concrete house to shelter in, so I'm confident. After this, you put your faith in God, and hunker down. My biggest fear at this point prior to the storm is whether or not I'll see the Eagles game, as I suspect we'll be without power--add that to the list: a portable battery powered TV.

Southbound

***PinF is back after an exhilarating ride. There are 13 postcards on their way to the 13 respondents of the PinF2K celebration...more later ***

After a minor rain delay....PinF is now southbound(to his offices in the Keys). Accompanying PinF is none other than John BV Breeding, on his new 2006 (12 hrs. new) Harley Sportster, hence the rain delay. PinF out.

Pride, Joy and LOVE

Countdown To PinF2k Celebration

UPDATE: PinF is happy to announce he will be sending 13 postcards to three different continents, and 6 different countries! Thanks to all who particpated and watch for those cards! A special congratulations goes out to the Mark Peck and his wife Amy, a frequent visitor and most astute commentator--in recognition of their new born son...I'm not sure but rumour has it his name is Paynter....God bless the little guy.
Welcome! If you're a regular you already know PinF is celebrating his 2,000th visitor. So if your seeing this message it's because PinF will be mailing you a Post Card of thanks from his homebase here in S. Florida, USA. If you've just stumbled upon PinF by chance -- welcome just the same. In celebration of all the worldwide visitors and daily readers PinF has decided to send a Florida Postcard to every visitor to PinF who visits between counter number 1,975 through 2,005 (scroll to bottom to see). So, if this is you-- no matter where you are in the world-- send me your mailing address by clicking here-----> paynterinflorida@safe-mail.net and I'll be sending you greetings from South Florida.

The Keys to Life

PinF has long maintained the surest way to emotional balance is taking time for yourself -- and regularly. Though I haven't always been able to take the time as much as I would like, I have still taken short periods here and there. My summer trip by cycle was a commitment I had made to myself last winter as I worked my way into my new-found single life. This trip was quite therapeutic as it gave me the time I needed to be alone and ponder the meanings of so many different events and changes in my life.

To this ends, the time has come again for a short reprieve of sorts. I will load the VStrom and motor on down the Keys for some R&R. I will take nothing I don't need. Specifically my kit will include an I-Pod, a rain suit, small kit of toiletries and one change of clothing, oh and my camera too. That's it- nothjing more. I will get on the turnpike at 5AM and ride into sunrise with my music in my ears. By 8AM I should be chilling in Key Largo having a Cuban variation of breakfast, my cares behind me and the sun above me. From here I will enjoy my morning Cuban coffee while reading the paper-- hopefully dockside somewhere, keeping to no schedule or person other than my carefree self. From Key Largo I will head further south into the Lower Keys, specifically Marathon and then onto Bahia Honda State Park...this is where the PinF southern offices are located, and from where I will be writing the many PostCards I have to send. This is also where I will make a day of chilling and some snorkeling. I forgot to mention that I will have with me a journal, and a book; they will figure into my day probably from here. After any early water activities I intend to move less than the giant tortoise, occasionally cracking a cold beer, and taking a dip, other than this it'll be a major chill session.

After my relaxing morning/afternoon, I plan on meeting some old friends the MacLaughlin's, for drinks and dinner, where I shall partake of the fresh bounty that is the Keys. This of course will be supplemented by several JW Blacks as well. From here I imagine we'll take in the sunset celebration along Mallory Square in downtown Key West. I'm sure after this I will be visiting a few of the more famous watering holes along the famous Duval Street, more to soothe my thirst for music than my thirst for scotch. I'll spend the night in KW and then get up and do it all over again the next day only heading north this time. This should be a nice easy ride as the speed limits in the Keys really dictate the pace.

Mind you, PinF will have with him the list of PostCard recipients that qualified via "PinF2K", so you can imagine the variety and quality of postcards my recipients will be receiving worldwide. So for those of you caught up in the doldrums of winter, or even fall depending on what hemisphere you're located, PinF will be sending a bit of the Florida sunshine via his PostCards, so submit those names to paynterinflorida@safe-mail.net, and then watch your box.

2000 Friends of PinF !

I happened to notice that PinF is quickly approaching 2000k visits. It's nice to know that there are people spread near and far around the global community who stop in from time to time to see what's got my attention on any given day.

Lately it seems we've been in a glut of catostrophic news stories, what with Katrina, the California wildfires, Pakistan/Kashmir earthquake, and now Guatemala and its devestating floods. This harkens back to what Nation of Islam leader Louis Farakhan stated after Katrina, (most incorrectly and irresponsibly I might add). I had commented on the fact that he had assigned blame for Katrina as God's wrath towards the United States for our policies in the middle east. The recent turn of events in Pakistan and Guatemala has me wondering what God is mad about now? As it appears he is nothing if not an equal opportunity God, spreading suffering and destruction equally throught the Christian, Muslim, and Hindu countries. I'll have to stay tuned to Mr. Farakhan's rantings in the next few days as he is much like the National Inquirer with his bombastic statements, specifically designed to call attention to him and his idealogies.

So, back to the upcoming "visitor 2000" I'm excited, and have been trying to think of something to mark this occasion. I'm considering mailing out some postcards to where ever in the world I receive visits from on this day. And for the actual "visitor 2000"? Not sure, still thinking that one through-- maybe I'll do a PinF biography to be featured on PinF of whomever, from wherever, makes the "2000th" post. So if your a regular, or if you just happen to scroll on by; may I suggest scrolling to the bottom of this page to take a look at the counter to see if in fact you are "the one"?

Judging by my daily visit average, I should hit 2000k on Thursday sometime -- any person from anywhere in the world can leave their address to have a genuine PinF postcard mailed to their corner of the world. I do however have to limit this offer, so lets say anyone who emails their address starting from visitor numbers 1,975 to 2,005, these people will recive a postcard mailed from the PinF offices here in sunny, warm Florida. You can email me your address to paynterinflorida@safe-mail.net. Mind the counter though, no visitor before 1,976 will receive a postcard.

Write on...

PinF welcomed a few new links this week that he wanted to call attention to. Both are well known and accomplished in their own right long before this medium of writing was in vogue. One studied writing; I can remember reading his stories when he was in college about the everyday people and experiences that colored his life. The other, well he was most renowned for his propensity towards the "less is more" style of writing, usually scribing short, succinct letters known more for the amount of questions they asked than the actual information they themselves provided. Still each has quality in their own particular way.

The one who trained in writing never actually used his skill in the convential or obvious manner in which many would have imagined he would, instead he enhanced his abilities by writing his impressions of all things wordly through his other gift - music. He's best known for his musical abilities and showmanship on stage, yet many who don't know him don't realize that the many songs they love, or the numerous CD's he's made were actually his writings come alive. He's talented in voice for sure, but his zeal for singing is inspired by the fact that he is literally singing his stories, instead of just letting people read them. In essence he sings his stories, night in and night out and gets paid to do it. Anyone who knows him, knows he carries a notebook chock full of songs, some he's recorded, some he hopes to, and still others will probably never make it to music. Still he's a writer first; a singer second. So welcome Scott, and to the many who read this you can find him here.

The other added link has also become aware of his writing talents as is illustrated by his works of late. He too has written his thoughts to music, though his chosen path was the exact opposite of Scott's, learning instead to make music first and then to color his music with words. He self taught himself more than 5 instruments and records his music himself. I guess it matters very little whether you write music or stories, so long as you write. In the end it's all one in the same really, as music can speak to a soul as well if not better than any written word can. If you can then put those words to music, well then you're soothing the mind and the spirit, as each of these two have done so well. I know this well- as they are both my brothers, one is very known due his public persona and illuminated career, still the other is lesser known - a fact he actually embraces, as it allows for greater freedom to find his "voice" as he steadily learns more and more. I hope any readers of PinF will take the time to listen to their music, but more importantly hear their words. So welcome also to Bill, his site can be found here, hopefully very soon he'll also post his lyrics.

Praying for Sense

As I sat through mass yesterday, my daughter Sophia by my side, I was struck when during the normal requests for prayers the monotone voice reading them said "for the men and women in the armed forces fighting for peace-- we pray". "fighting for peace"...hmm.

I had to think about this, as I couldn't get a handle on such an oxy-moronic thing to say. Fighting for peace--wow. I was under the impression to fight for peace would be to exhaust all possible avenues within the world community ie: diplomatic options, humanitarian assistance, maybe democratic regime changes. Yet here I was in church of all places where I was encouraged to say prayers in support of fighting. Not that PinF is opposed to war. When they're necessary-(wars)-- I'd be praying for the bullets to hit their marks. Take the Falklands, the Argentinians asked for and got a war. The Taliban-- again, never was there a more deserving and oppresive bunch of punks who deserved to have their asses thumped, I prayed those missiles found their marks as well.

This mess in Iraq is just that-- a mess. No one doubts or denies the danger that fundamentalist Islam poses to the civilzed world. It also goes without saying that Sadaam was a very evil man who committed countless atrocities agains 100's of thousands of people, both in Iraq and to its bordering neighbors (Iran, Kuwait). The problem is, as I open my newspaper every morning and see the wars of calamity befalling this country right here in our midsts (New Orleans, Missisippi, California), is that Iraq was NOT a war we needed to fight. I know, I know, Sadaam gassed 5,000 Kurds...yeah, yeah and he gassed tens of thousands of Iranians too during his war with them(where were all the WMD protestors then?). But what was it specifically that he was poised to do to us? Oh yeah-- WMD's, that's the reason we spent this 200 billion dollars. Kind of funny when all the World Trade Tower attackers came from our so called "ally", (Saudi Arabia), funny how we didn't declare war on them?

My point is this....I opened my Palm Beach Post paper this week and saw the first female soldier was killed in action from Palm Beach County. And what is so strange about this you might ask? Well for some it might be the fact that she was a woman, which in itself is kind of rare in war. Yet that isn't what struck me at all. What struck me as odd and particularly wasteful about this loss of life in particular was just a single sentence in the Palm Beach Post article. This young woman's name was Elizabeth Jacobson, 21 years old. She was by all accounts that I've read, a young lady who had trouble adjusting after her parent's divorce, yet she was beginning to find her direction in life. As I read her story it became clearer that she, like so many others her age was a young woman trying to find her path, unfortunately for her it lead her to the wrong place at the wrong time. She had hopes, dreams, and seemed just as naive as many other 21 year-olds. Yet here I was reading the obituary of a young woman cut down in her prime, another victim of an angry Islamic militant radical with much more hate in his heart than Ms. Jacobson could ever hope to match with the boundless love in her's. She was an airman in the Air Force, not typically a role that would seem to be too dangerous even in a war zone, apparently not so in this case.

Thus Ms. Jacobson became the first female casuality of the war in Iraq from Palm Beach County, a distinction granted her by a flawed policy fighting a sensless war. Oh and that one sentence? By the time she was deployed to Iraq in June, the changes in her were obvious. "I think she really just turned into a woman when she went away," Steinhoff said. Now that's the second oxy-moron concerning this war that I've read in as many days. "...she turned into a woman when she went away...", too bad she had to turn into a dead woman when she went away.

Ancient Chinese Secret

It had been a long, hot, fun-filled day of museum visits, I-Max movies, and street stomping. Sophia and I had gotten to know the Philadelphia public transport system well, and had made our way from Manayunk to downtown via the route 27 bus. Even this, though not the train we had planned to ride, was "exciting" to her -- funny kid. So we get off at 15th and JFK, and it's a glorious fall day with just a hint of coolness in the air. Sophia spied it first and quickly alerted me, as she had this on her "list" for some time now. The "LOVE" statue. Truly an iconic spot in Philadelphia, I had forgotten how beautiful the park was with the towering fountain behind the plaza and the flag draped view down the parkway ending in the grand Philadelphia Museum of Art. It's days like these when you really give thanks to be here and just soaking in the many sites you may have taken for granted for so long.

"Taken for granted". Isn't that how many of us go through life? Just passing by the sites that surround us, never really giving them a new glimpse or a second look. It occured to me that many of the places I still hadn't taken Sophia were these kinds of places, the ones I just assumed were of no interest because I had already been there. The LOVE Park for instance was something I had forgotten was so nice, yet Sophia had seen it so many times in books or magazines that she now wanted to see it. So of course the obligatory photo was in order and thanks to a nice couple from Ireland we got one. From here we quickly shuffled down the parkway the five blocks to the Franklin Institute opting to walk instead of riding the bus as it was so nice. Sophia quickly spotted the Venezuelan flag and we had our second photo op of the day.

One of neatest aspects, as well as awesome responsibilities of being a parent is in shaping a young life to go off into the world and make it a better place; PinF understands this. Too often children are raised in bigoted or racist enviroments, something that only perpetuates throughout their lives. Sophia for her part is a child of two cultures and two languages and is accepting of all colors, languages and customs, a fact I am quite proud to see. She seems to thrive on this when she is in the city with people of all colors, and never once stares or asks about "other" looking people. Last year when I would volunteer at her school her class was made up of 28 kids representing 4 languages, 3 ethnicities, and 6 countries. Of course much of this is due in part to her being raised in Florida, itself a mixing pot of cultures and ethnicities. This in itself has been good for Sophia's personal development as it further illustrates with a real life lesson how America embraces and celebrates diversity, as she herself does with both her Irish and Venezuelan ancestery.

After completing our objectives at the Franklin Institute, which included a vist to the Fels Planetarium, the new I-Max movie, and the giant heart, we set out again into the warm sunshine of the beautiful fall day. We were soon on the Philly Phlash bus headed to the Reading Terminal for lunch. After filling ouselves with lunch and a little ice cream we then walked out of the terminal and discussed the the hour and whether we should head on home, as I knew I still had to navigate Friday rush hour on a bus full of commuters. It was then that Sophia asked me why the street signs were in Chinese? That she even knows it's Chinese as opposed to Korean or Japanese I put down to her Hello Kitty "Hello World" book. This book introduces children to 13 different cultures and greetings in their languages. I explained that this is where Chinatown was; Sophia couldn't believe that there was an entire neighborhood of Asian people living and talking in their own enclave of ethnicity. It was then that I realized that this visit into a completely new enviroment would be as interesting as it would be educational. I soon realized the education value of this detour was far greater than any museum we could visit, as it gave Sophia a better picture of America and it's freedoms and tolerances.

Off we went entering under the ornate Chinese Arch that signifies the beginning of a complete cultural change from the Philadelphia outside of the arch. The arch located at at 10 and Arch St. is actually a "Friendship Gate" and as we passed through into Chinatown we were greeted by a myriad of aromas and activity. The sidewalks were busy with shopkeepers and shoppers. We weaved our way through the fishmongers shop, the various gift shops and down the street, deeper and deeper into this "new" world. Finally we came upon a Hello Kitty gift shop and immediately entered. Of course this was all knock off Hello Kitty stuff from China, but Sophia didn't seem to mind, and my wallet wasn't complaining either. After 30 minutes and several dollars we parted and started our walk back towards Arch Street, Sophia having clearly enjoyed both the sights and sounds of our new found environment. It wasn't until we were on the plane home and recounting our week-end that I asked her what the best part of trip was for her. I clearly expected to hear the museums or the time spent with uncles, cousins and grand-parents; much to my surprise she said it was "Chinatown". Interesting, since we so often are reminded of just how small our world is becoming; it was nice to see that Sophia's got a little larger on this trip.

Paynter'sinPhilly...again.

That's right....we're on the move north - yet again. Sophia and I fly tonight to attend my brother's innaugural "Fall Equinox" party, whatever the hell this is. I'm told it's a celebratory event marking the seasonal change, pehaps it'll be like the Druids at Stonehenge? PinF has-- by parental decree, absolved his daughter of her academic requirements tomorrow, (good to be the King) in order for her to accompany me on this trip north.

Of course PinF recognizing the precedent and example he sets in doing so has also planned an educationally fun day in the City of Brotherly Love. Tomorrow Sophia will once again do what is so foreign to most people in Florida--board a commuter train. We'll head on down to the vaunted Franklin Institute of Science to try and quench my little scientist's thirst for knowledge. Sophia's been here before, when we did our inaugural trip last year in which we did the Franklin Institue, Natural Science Museum, the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall and then had lunch in the Reading Terminal Market. Suffice to say I had to all but carry her onto the train last year for our ride back to Swarthmore. This year figures to be different, as Sophia has been planning and looking forward to this years tour.

Of course much was learned last year, and we will trim our itinerary a bit. We learned of the greatest deal in town last year by riding the Philly Phlash, this is a tourist Trolley bus that does a continuous loop around center city from the Art Museum to the Liberty Bell- all for only a dollar.!...The Plash stops at all the best museums, attractions and even comes complete with a totally unfunny driver who sounds a lot like Rocky. So if you can stand being seated next to some yahoo from Arkansas while you ride around the city looking all touristy, there really isn't a better way to do it.

The coup de grace of our visit will be our attending the premiere of the new Imax movie Magnificent Desolation - Walking on the Moon 3D. This should be huge, as Sophia is a big fan of anything planetary, the 3D aspect is always a plus too. From the Frankilin Institute we'll try another scientific gem of Philly, the Mütter Museum , a little known museum of medical abnormalities and anomalies...this place is freaky! We'll probably take our show on down to the Liberty Bell again as she loved the gift the shop there last year. From there it'll be our return trip to the Reading Terminal Market for lunch. If this doesn't wear Sophia out then I'm in trouble. We'll then be returning to Manayunk for her to attend a sleep over with her Nana, from here I will jettison myself off to attend yet another bloggers convention with the illustriously light-hearted and funny (mis)Adventures of Chuck himself, also rumoured to be attending is the one and only CNN, the woman not the network. Rounding out this week's convention is that political warhorse Tedman, king of the Podcast; all of this taking place at the unofficial blogger's headquarters-- Sligo's in Media. So this is PinF's / PinPhilly weekend, complete with bubble-gummy fun, hell if Chuck isn't busy working on his "bowl", I may see if he wants to tag along..............