I should note before going into this story that I procrastinated for a good half hour, checking on Hollywood trash and seeing if Charlie Sheen is still alive, before actually writing this. I hope that isn’t a metaphor of times to come.

Returning to my actual post, I decided to tell you all today about a field trip that madre and I decided to go on. We go in the car, tried dealing with traffic on 95 North before taking the bridge to Jersey, and heading to the Philadelphia Flower show. We went on a Tuesday early afternoon, figuring we would avoid the weekend crowds.

Shit, were we wrong.

I have never seen so many feisty retirees in my entire life. Now, the theme was gorgeous and incredibly executed, but trying to actually look at a perfectly rendered French Cottage with rooftop garden is difficult when being shoved aside by three ladies with canes. This was only escalated when there was voices of anger and rebellion when the line wasn’t moving quick enough. I think a few art students there on a class project feared for their lives. Clearly, madre and I got out of dodge and over to less popular exhibits such as the ficus competition.

On the way there, we passed by the miniature exhibit with a line that reached well over 200 feet. Madre said, “Unless there’s a god damn roller coaster at the end of that line, I’m not standing in it.” Truer words have never been said.

Three hours and a kick-ass hanging plant that I purchased later, we retreated to get our car from the pay for parking lot. You’re supposed to to leave your car key with them, but take your house key with you in case workers decide to break in to your house or something. Madre didn’t because, “If they want to drive the hour and a half, find our house, deal with those dogs, and break in? Good for them.”

On the way home we stopped for junk food and to rent The Kids Are All Right from the world’s last remaining Blockbuster. Not too impressed with the movie, but it was better than watching Glee.

Until next time,

Ellee