Can You Go to Philadelphia Without Visiting Independence National Historical Park? I Apparently Can't!

In the past twelve months, every single time I have put a toe into Philadelphia, I have found myself, at some point, in Independence National Historical Park.

Most recently, my partner and I spent a couple of days in Philadelphia after dropping our younger kid off at college nearby. We tried to do a few non-national park things, like eating cheesesteaks (of course!) and having drinks at the Library Bar (which I didn't really like, ahem)--

I got the Chocolate River, but it ended up kind of grossing me out because there was a giant ice cube in it, and chocolate shavings ON the ice cube. Hard chocolate plus ice doesn't feel like a palatable combination, shudder. I wish now I'd gotten the Candy Man instead.

--but somehow, inevitably, on our last morning in the city, we found ourselves here:

It's the low season at Independence Hall, I guess, so they were offering first-come, first-served group tours without the $1 pre-registration.

Y'all KNOW how I feel about saving money!

Even with that incentive, the crowds were so low that it was nice to be able to walk around in the gated site and take photos without having to worry about crowds. 

And even though it was soooo cold, it was such a pretty day!

I really like how park rangers get to have their own personalities on the job. I love chatting with them, and I love attending their programs, hearing their own unique perspectives on the content. To be fair, I'm still pissed at the park ranger at the Ulysses S. Grant National Historical Site who told me that homeschoolers are "less curious" than traditionally schooled children (oh, the comebacks I've thought up for her in the intervening years!), but the time that I recently spent roasting Andrew Jackson with a park ranger at Johnstown Flood National Memorial are some of my happiest since sending the kids off to college. 

All that to say that the park ranger who conducted our tour of Independence Hall was A Character.

He led a great tour--showed us all the proper stuff and gave us all the cool information--

--but I felt like he high-key thought we were stupid, and it was hilarious. First of all, he kept calling us "folks," but in that way that your one high school history, teacher, say, who was an older dude and clearly longing for retirement but he needed to stick it out a couple more years to get his full pension, would talk to you. Like, condescending and kind of chastising? You obviously haven't studied enough and you don't remember all the nice history you were taught and what kind of person does that make you?

Honestly, we probably deserved the park ranger's tone of chastisement and condescension, because he kept asking us really hard questions and visibly having to push down his annoyance when nobody knew the answer. I helped out the group by knowing one answer--"Articles of Confederation!"--but yikes, dates are my weak spot. And everyone else's, too, apparently! 

Oh, his best question, though! He was trying to get us to name the event he was describing, and none of us in our group of probably twenty knew what the fuck he was talking about. Visibly irritated, he finally said, "Most of you probably have a picture of this event in your pockets!" I was all, huh... maybe something about George Washington? Or Alexander Hamilton? I was literally about to suggest the ten-dollar founding father without a father when the ranger finally broke and exclaimed, "The Continental Congress! It's right there on the back of every two-dollar bill!"

I lost control of myself at that point and sort of stepped to the back of the group so he wouldn't notice me silently losing my mind with laughter, and found there two other wayward souls who were also snickering. He was just clearly so mad at how stupid we were! But seriously--the two-dollar bill!?! I haven't seen one of those in... I don't even know how long! I used to save them and spray glitter on them for the Tooth Fairy to put under the kids' pillows because they're so special, but I had to stop because I couldn't find anymore. Like, ever. Who on earth still has a two-dollar bill in their pocket, much less so consistently that they remember what's on the back of the bicentennial version? 

OMG it was awesome. I haven't felt like my high school self in a billion years, and I think I really needed that.

Obviously, even though I was literally right there a month ago, I had to go back to see the Liberty Bell afterwards. For, you know, my partner's sake! Surely he wouldn't want to leave without seeing it!

Yeah, you can clearly see that I'm just gritting my teeth and enduring it solely for my partner's sake...

I'll just point out here for the umpteenth time how well-designed this spot is. The Liberty Bell is on display with Independence Hall in the background, and it's just such a cool scene.

Whenever my partner and I visit a city, he will NOT stop talking to the various solicitors and other denizens who approach him, I swear to god. He has literally taken those stupid CDs that people try to hand you in New York City, and those stupid tourist maps and tourist "newspapers," and once upon a time walking back to our hotel late at night in Nashville, a woman came up to us to ask for gas money, my partner STOPPED TO TALK TO HER, and I 100% left his ass and kept on walking. If you're not going to be reasonable you can get mugged on your own, Buddy!

He gave her twenty bucks, and I was absolutely gleeful in pointing her out to him the next night, in the exact same place doing the exact same thing. 

So on this morning, I had lectured him before we left the hotel about not talking to strangers, no matter what they said to you. I hadn't had any issues when I'd come to the city with the younger kid, but when I took the older kid we'd had to steer around a couple of people trying to accost us on the Metro and then another person on the sidewalk, so I was not up for any nonsense on this trip.

As we were walking away from the national park site, though, a person who presented as an international tourist stopped us on the street corner and asked, "Is this where Liberty Hall is?" We were right in between both Independence Hall and the Liberty Bell building, so I pointed both out to him and told him where to go if he wanted to see either of them up close, he thanked me and walked off, and the second he was out of earshot my partner was all, "AND WHAT DO YOU CALL THAT I'D LIKE TO KNOW?!?"

Dude, I'm allowed to talk to strangers because I can tell the difference between a lost tourist and a career mugger!

And then I cooled his irritation with another cheesesteak, because nobody can be mad while eating cheesesteaks!

So far every time I've visited Independence Hall it's been with a different member of my family, each of whom I insist must be "shown" the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall, etc. But now that they've all individually seen it, along with me three entire times, what on earth excuse am I going to make to visit again?

Stay tuned, I guess, because I'll think of something!

P.S. Want to follow along with my craft projects, books I'm reading, road trips to weird old cemeteries, looming mid-life crisis, and other various adventures on the daily? Find me on my Craft Knife Facebook page!

Rainbows and Red Wings: I Went To a Philadelphia Flyers Game on Pride Night!

I guess that going to NHL games has become one of my empty-nest hobbies, since I went to my very first game the day after I dropped my very first kid off at college for the very first time. It's a way more fun pastime than the mid-life crisis I'm currently working on ramping up!

Is it coincidence that both of my children just happened to enroll in colleges next door to NHL franchises that I really like? Honestly, yes, but the drop-off after Winter Break always feels even sadder to me than the Fall Semester drop-off, and there is nothing better to cheer one up after sadly dropping their beloved baby off at school than a long ride on the Septa, a long walk through the frozen parking lot, and this on the horizon:

Lol at the ubiquitous flattened Girl Scout cookie box. I don't know whose troop had the genuinely brilliant idea to sell Girl Scout cookies in the arena parking lot, but you are supposed to take all your trash with you when you leave, ahem:

Okay, and what's the only thing that could be even better than going to a regular NHL game? Going to an NHL game on Pride Night!

The NHL, like most (all?) male sports leagues, has a homophobia problem that's absolutely disgusting, so it's extra exciting when I can be part of an overtly queer-welcoming event. Because dude. Bisexual women in long-term heterosexual relationships also appreciate representation! The Flyers team also includes one of the most committed advocates for queer representation in hockey, #21 Scott Laughton. Also, here's their TikTok:

So overall, it was just really nice to be there on Pride Night and feel like (hope that?) for the Flyers, at least, Pride Night is more than just set dressing.

I'm sorry to say, though, that although the Flyers Pride logo is cool as hell, the vinyl on the shirts felt really cheap, so I didn't spend my mortgage on any merch. Don't tell their intellectual property lawyers, but a couple of days ago I used Photoshop to break the Flyers logo into layers that I can cut with my Cricut and I'm going to piece and quilt my own Pride logo Flyers sweatshirt, ahem.

Now, you guys. What's the only thing could possibly be even better than going to a real NHL game on Pride Night?

Well, when I was shopping for Flyers tickets, I found a couple of resale tickets for a crazy good price, considering that they were second row center ice just behind the away team penalty box. The caption also said that the tickets included access to something called the SHIFT4 Club, which omg you guys. It turns out I bought resale tickets from a season tickets holder, and the tickets included access to a VIP club with all-inclusive food and drinks:

I literally researched to find the exact time that doors opened for this club (90 minutes before the game), and my partner and I got there when it opened, and then we FEASTED!

I am eating proletariat food in the photo above, but my partner had a full-on steak with mashed potatoes and asparagus.

They even had boxes of popcorn ready to take back to your seats, which we balanced with two hard ciders, two hot dogs, a tray of French fries, and an order of chicken strips while we made our way down to the best seats I may ever have at an NHL game:

I mean, you guys. How good are these seats?!?

Happy Pride, indeed!

Also, Gritty!!!!!!!

I was too busy enjoying myself to take a ton of photos, but it was a good game! 

Not super high scoring, and the Red Wings didn't play nearly as aggressively as I'd expected them to, but Philadelphia played nice and fast around them.

And we even made it on the TV! Kind of...

I think it counts, lol. I've got my orange hat on and everything!

And during the intermissions, we ran back to the VIP club for more snacks...

...and then juggled all our new snacks back to our seats to watch more hockey:

The Red Wings played a shockingly clean game (ahem), so I only got to enjoy a visitor to the penalty box once:

And then when Larkin was in the penalty box, I was equally shocked to hear all the horrific slurs the Flyers fans around me were screaming at him the whole time. Philly sports fans are a WHOLE MOOD, y'all.

Another thrilling first? My first overtime! The Flyers scored just a few seconds into the first overtime, though, and then, glory of glories, the victory cuddle pile happened to take place right in front of my seat:

Lol at the dude having to physically hold the door to the penalty box closed so the players don't crash through it and all fall on the floor:

It was such a good game! I can't wait to go to another Flyers game after another school drop-off, this time wearing my homemade quilted Pride logo sweatshirt.

Also, my partner literally pulled a chicken strip out of his coat pocket to eat on the walk back to the hotel.

P.S. Want to follow along with my craft projects, books I'm reading, road trips to weird old cemeteries, looming mid-life crisis, and other various adventures on the daily? Find me on my Craft Knife Facebook page!

To Philadelphia and Back in 22 Hours

How are we already here again? Two years ago exactly, my older kid and I were on a whirlwind tour to see one last college before she made up her mind about where she was going to go to school. 

That feels so long ago, but also like it was yesterday, you know? That kid I took on her last college tour before Decision Day was still a kid. Just two years later she's still my baby, but she's no longer a child. She finished growing up there at college when I wasn't there to see it.

Now I'm supporting my younger kid as she makes the same kind of agonizing decision, and she's simultaneously the most grown-up, confident, sophisticated human I've ever had the privilege to know and also my precious four-year-old in a thrifted velvet dress, butterfly wings strapped to her back, mashing dandelion flowers into a pretend pie in her backyard mud kitchen.

How can I let that tiny little sprite out of my sight, much less drop her off and leave her at a college 700 miles away? Wasn't it just last week that she sat on Santa's lap and told him that she wanted a kitten for Christmas?

How about we just try not to think that far ahead for a bit. Let's just think about not forgetting where in this massive Economy Lot we're leaving the damn car:

Then we'll just think about the following:

• airport security
• napping during the flight
• finding the SEPTA station at the Philadelphia International Airport and buying rail tickets for later (the station in the college town apparently doesn't have its own ticket kiosk? Because... reasons?)
• booking and riding in my very first Lyft (super smooth process, but our driver did treat us to an anti-Philadelphia screed while also spurning the highway in favor of only surface streets, making the ride take so long that the Lyft app sent me a push notification asking if I was okay or was I in peril)
• getting dropped off at the campus gates and then immediately hoofing it to the nearest Starbucks for caffeine and a breakfast wrap
• taking one sip of my chocolate cream cold brew and realizing as soon as the stimulant hit my brain that we were about to be late for the Welcome event
• hoofing it back to campus at double-speed

And then, of course, exploring this beautiful college campus and learning about the school and meeting some students and staff and watching my kid make friends with the other kids on the tour. 

This school has a literal cloister why?

The kid is more of a sucker for the Collegiate Gothic architectural style than I am. Who wouldn't want to have class inside a castle?

Just between us, and knowing what y'all know about this kid, I'm pretty sure the fact that this school is basically a poorly-disguised cult for worshipping Athena is its biggest draw for her...

Statue of Athena, at which the students leave offerings. Tell me it's not a cult.

When we were given a little free time, the kid and I OBVIOUSLY beelined straight to the library. College libraries are some of my favorite campus buildings to explore!

Check out the original statue of Athena up high where students from the rival college can't reach her, and also plaster casts taken from the genuine Parthenon metopes on display at the British Museum. I'm just gonna leave this right here.

So envious that they have a whole room of puzzles! They also have a craft club with its own permanent, dedicated studio and an art club, also with its own permanent, dedicated studio. 

I read this book in grad school!

I'm telling you, the owl iconography is INTENSE. I kind of wanted to ask how this impacted their enrollment of students from certain Native American nations, but I'd already asked soooo many weird questions that I felt I should probably leave some weird questions for other people to ask.

Tell me that this is not a shocking number of owls, though?!?

I am SO glad that I'm not seventeen years old and trying to figure out where I want to go to college. The amazing choices that she has are a blessing, a luxury, and a direct result of the hard work this kid has done and the phenomenal person she is, but it's also an awful burden to have to decide.

Let's spend the next few hours not thinking about it, and instead thinking about how to navigate the SEPTA system, especially because Jefferson Station booted us out into a shopping mall with no discernible exit, and it took us at least 20 minutes to find our way out to the street. Also, while I was standing at one of the big maps and figuring out our route, a kind stranger came over to gently point out that I was tracing the trolley line and not the rail line. Because apparently Philadelphia also has trolleys!

I'd wanted to see Chinatown, browse a couple of bookstores, walk around the Independence sites, etc., and we had plenty of time to do that, but I'd neglected to take into account that by the time we got downtown we'd have been up and at 'em for approximately 14 hours, and shockingly for me when confronted with a tourist site, I was starting to fade.

Imagine! ME!!! Forgetting to so much as take a snapshot of the Chinatown Gate as we walked under it! Unwilling to walk a few extra blocks over to the bookstore I'd Pinned! Too tired to make the extra effort to take a close-up photo of Independence Hall!

Not even the facts of my own exhausted near-tears and the kid who dances on pointe six days a week admitting that her feet hurt could stop me from paying my respects to Ben, Deborah, and Francis Franklin, though:

That was the last tourist thing we did, though. After that we trudged straight back to Jefferson Station, caught the train back to the airport, did the whole security theatre dance number one more time, and collapsed at our gate, where the kid proceeded to sleep as soundly as if she'd been in her bed back home for the remaining two hours until our flight.

I, on the other hand, finished my book (Peter Darling), started another (Beartown), and discovered that, gasp, the Philadelphia International Airport only stocks Pepsi products?!? NOOO!!! Mama needs her Diet Sprite!

I reluctantly nursed my... Starry? WTF is a STARRY?!?... and made it last until we got back to our home airport, at which point I'd forgotten that I'd even taken a photo of our parking spot. Thank goodness for the teenager, who just flat-out remembered where we parked in her head, and who loudly sang our personal mash-up of "Party Rock Anthem," "California Girls," and the entire Percy Jackson musical with me to keep me awake for the drive home. 

I want her to go to absolutely the BEST college, y'all, and also I never want her to leave my side for a second. 

P.S. Want to follow along with my craft projects, books I'm reading, road trips to weird old cemeteries, looming mid-life crisis, and other various adventures on the daily? Find me on my Craft Knife Facebook page!