Well, we made it to our new place. I’m not going to tell you what part of Philadelphia we’re living in, because I had trouble in Dallas with a reader harrassing me and my family in a pretty sick way, so I’d like to keep the risk of that at a minimum here. Nevertheless, it’s a beautiful part of town, and we’re happy to be here. It’s going to be interesting to see how the kids take to being able to walk out the front door and get food, newspapers, groceries, and all kinds of things on the street. And seeing lots of people walking on the streets — that’ll be new to them. We already found a pizza parlor steps away from our front door; I suspect it will be visited quite a bit by my children.
Almost all of our stuff is still a few days behind us, but we brought enough pillows and blankets to camp on the carpeted floors of the bedrooms. As a matter of fact, I’m about to conk out right now, early in the evening, because Julie and I are bone-tired. The kids are okay, though, and seemingly overjoyed to be here. The hour or so drive from Hwy 81 on the Pennsylvania Turnpike was amazing — this state is incredibly beautiful, even in winter. So many farms! I saw a billboard in English and German, and thought, “What in the world is that?” And then I remembered: Oh yeah, we’re in Lancaster County. Pictured, two of my new neighbors argue over how badly the New Orleans Saints are going to whip the Minnesota Vikings tomorrow.

Roscoe, alas, is constipated. So not all the family is copacetic. But we’re getting there.