#17 Attend three ethnic celebrations in Philadelphia

The dude and I went to "America's Czestochowa" for the 42nd Polish-American fair. We got there in time for lunch so we split an order of pierogi (potato and cheese), a golubki (even though the dude thinks he doesn't like cabbage), plackis (or as we call them latkes--my great-grandmother spoke Polish and Yiddish, though she was Catholic), and a steamed kielbasa sandwich on rye. The dude also tried a Żywiec. And a woman randomly handed him some kind of apple and pear cider which he enjoyed as well. (Because when Polish old ladies hand you a cup, you drink.) Later we found someone with a great pot of bigos, but we were too full to get it (even though it was only $2). Seeing the steaming concoction convinced the dude that we have to make it for our Christmas dinner--we're hosting the relatives on December 26.

At one of the little stands, the dude fell sway to cwikla, beetroot and horseradish relish, which they served to him on a small disc of smoked kielbasa. Of course, he bought a huge jar--the price difference between normal size and huge was only $1. That kind of thing sways him. This will be our appetizer for 12/26.

We wandered through the craft stands. Mostly standard crap fair fare. There were a couple of amber peddlers, and the dude bought me a beautiful pendant for my birthday. (No photos until October.)

Good clean fun!

#91 Paint Craft Room

It's Labor Day, so we labored. The craft room is painted. Ceiling, trim, and walls. Right now, it looks like a big white box, so no photos; you'll just have to take my word for it. You will be able to tell in the photos when the room is complete. Stay tuned.

#21 Ride in a Hot Air Balloon

Thank you all for being so kind as to not mention the um, ballooning disaster in Canada before my flight. In fact, through my own negligence, and my family's protectiveness, I didn't hear about the accident until I showed up for my flight on Saturday evening. Four of us were oblivious which meant four more of us were either idiots or extraordinarily brave--or like me, they just figured what are the chances? (Or like one woman, you can just get totally loaded before you go up in the balloon. Interestingly, she was fulfilling her "life's ambition." It seems to me that your life's ambition shouldn't be something you have to get smashed to do, but that's just me.)

Our pilot reassured us that in 25 years of ballooning, he's never had an accident. I went back to my family--my cousin's husband didn't ride but the whole famn damily came to see me off--and asked who knew about it: they all did. I overheard my cousin explaining to Lala:
"The balloon caught fire."
"Well, some people died but some people were only injured."
"Some people jumped out."
So I double checked before we took off: "If it catches fire, jump or no?"

Armed with this important information, I had one of the top 10 experiences of my life. It was smooth sailing over the trees--sometimes through them, and no, the basket doesn't swing when you hit a tree--where the wind took us. It was beautiful and peaceful. I can't wait to go again.

My pilot does European tours. I'm thinking the next flight should be to the Alps in January for the Chateau d'Oex Balloon Festival. Let's see if I can convince the dude.



My photos (l-r): the balloon ready for inflating; looking up; balloon packaged for another day. Top: self-portrait.