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dogs: Philadelphia Metropolis Reading the City
By Samantha Kirk»
My father, a Navy veteran and contented suburban Maryland home-dweller, has trouble understanding why I love the city. When I talk about the row house I'm moving into in North Philadelphia, with its bathroom window offering an unobstructed view of the neighbor's bedroom, its crumbling drywall, its nightly chorus of stray cats, he waxes poetic about the Jeffersonian virtues of the countryside and the joys of homesteading. He knows I love the wilderness and the country; so why, he asks, have I spent most of my adult life seeking out the experience of the city?
It's true that I am quite the nature lover. I hike, I climb rocks, I garden; plant identification is one of my hobbies. Being able to read a forest or meadow by the leaf shapes hidden within it is a wonderful thing. Much, in fact, like walking down a city
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TastyKakes and Tofu
Best of VoxPop»
My foray into veganism started in September when I sat down to watch Oprah reruns and put off looking for a job. Alicia Silverstone was on promoting her new book about eating like a vegan called The Kind Diet, and I sat up and listened to what she had to say.
After a summer of drinking, eating mostly slices of pepperoni pizza and cheesesteaks and bar hopping down the shore, any book with the word Diet in it made me pay attention because of the 10 pounds I had gainedaround the hip and ass region.
When I thought "diet guru," the name Alicia Silverstone didn't exactly leap mind. I related her
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My Philadelphia: Lawndale
My Philadelphia: West Philly
Like Father, Like Daughter
By Kat Richter»
When I moved back home upon completing my masters degree, I began to worry that I was turning into my mother. We look alike, we dress alike (thanks to her seemingly endless supply of clothes-I-like-better-than-mine) and people mistake us for sisters all the time. It's not that I don't like my mom- she and my dad are both the youngest in their families so I usually tell people they're "52 going on 25"--but still, distancing oneself from one's parents is a rite of passage. Lately, however, I realized it's not my mom that I should be worried about. It's my dad. My dad is obsessed with dogs and enjoys few things more than striking up random conversations with complete strangers. This can make for rather awkward evenings out with my parents.
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