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verb (used without an object):

1. to live or continue in a given condition or state
2. to linger over, emphasize, or ponder in thought, speech, or writing

As promised, more good news to share! First of all, news of the not-exactly-mine-to-share variety: Martin (boyfriend, of the totally awesome variety) bought a house! After a fairly painless search, he found a beautiful house in South Philly that’s more or less move-in ready, and he officially becomes a homeowner (with keys) in mid-June.

Now, for my own news: I found an apartment! It’s a delightfully bright (windows in every room, gah) and unusually enormous (an entire floor, gah twice) one bedroom on South 10th Street, right near the Italian Market. I move on June 1, which can’t come fast enough since today I was not only greeted at the front door of my current apartment by a giant cockroach, but I also found out from a neighbor (who was kind enough to provide bug spray for the offensive roach) that my building has been recently broken into… twice. So, yes, all the signs are there, and it’s time for me to leave. As much as I hate moving, I’m really looking forward to my new home. It’s big enough for all of the furniture that I had to put into storage when I moved into my (tiny, roach-infested, easy-to-break-into) Rittenhouse apartment, and I’ll finally be able to set up a sewing area after five years of wanting one, PLUS I’ll be able to host small parties. Oh, that’s right. Domesticity and I are going to get it ON.

Speaking of new homes, it’s time I expressed my growing fondness for my not-so-new home city. Even though we got off to a rough start, I can finally say that I’m glad to be a Philadelphian. Perhaps at some point I’ll be moved to make a detailed list of all things I love about this city, but for the moment I’ll just talk about my absolute favorite: the always surprising, never-disappointing quirkiness. Like this sign, for example:

spotted along South Street while walking to Martin’s apartment. Or the pumpkin helmet that someone carefully carved for the statue of the woman in the fountain in Rittenhouse Square around Halloween. Or the heavily inked and pierced bike messenger who yelled “God bless you” over his should to me when I sneezed while crossing Broad yesterday afternoon.

This city has always felt small to me, so it’s only right that the little things should matter most. New York will always be a wonderful place to visit old friends, but Philadelphia is finally what feels like home.

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