Who Needs Pants?

My roof deck has a lot to show.  My apartment building is located right in the heart of Old City Philadelphia so I can see the skyline, I can see the bridges, I can see New Jersey.  A little further back you can see Citizens Bank Park and Lincoln Financial Field.  It’s a great place to sit up during the Fourth of July or every Friday when the Camden River Sharks are in town to watch fireworks.

All of the sights I can see from up here are fantastic.  But nothing that I have mentioned yet can hold a candle to my favorite roof deck neighbor.

This man is the best – and I apologize for the less than ideal photos but I’ve never really been able to document his greatness because of our roof proximity.  My guess is he is in his late 60’s or early 70’s.  He has a gorgeous roof deck – it is huge, there is a big skylight in the middle – so his apartment must be amazing.  He has plush red furniture and speakers, a hook up for a hose – it is probably a lovely place to entertain.  But I’m really the one being entertained.  Because this man lays on his roof deck in nothing but his white brief underwear on a regular basis.

At first I thought it was a Speedo.  Not that that really changes things. But then my Roommate made me realize, nope- just tighty-whities (is that a word?)  I actually love it because this man is living his Dream.  He couldn’t care less who see’s him.  He’s at that point in his life where he probably gets up in the morning and thinks “Pants?  Who needs pants?”  And then he heads up to his roof to bronze his entire body- wearing just enough to avoid being arrested, but also the perfect amount that he doesn’t need to feel weighed down by tan lines.

We should learn a lesson from underwear roof man.  One day I hope you are all so secure in your lives and yourselves that pants just become a necessity only when visiting your country club or riding on an airplane.

Just a guy who doesn't need pants untangling his hose

Just a guy who doesn’t need pants untangling his hose

Quick Trip to the late 1990’s

It’s finally beautiful in Philadelphia.  Here’s another thing about being retired – when my soul was sold to corporate America, I never had the opportunity to sit on top of my office in a bikini and bronze up while I worked.  So add that to the Dream I was talking about living earlier.

Anyway – I decided to grab sunscreen on my way up to my office and went under my Roommate’s sink to see what she had in there.  It’s funny because she always complains about her fair skin and how she burns so quickly but today all of her problems were solved.  You see – the last time she bought sun screen, Bill Clinton was President, TLC was at the top of the Billboard charts, the St. Louis Rams were winning the Superbowl she was in the 6th grade…


Back in the Office

I finally made it back up to my office today.  It’s been abnormally cold the last week or so and I’ve been confined to the walls of my apartment.  Darcy and I went for a walk down around Independence Hall and the Constitution Center this morning which was when I realized we were back in business.



It took twenty minutes to actually get up here. Our stairs are so steep that if you forget something it’s usually not worth the effort to go down and get it.  Here’s what I brought up:

A glass of water (I get thirsty)

A bottle of water (Darcy gets thirsty)

A bag of ice (water gets warm)

A hoagie (I get hungry) IMG_4444

Darcy’s bowl (filled with ice cubes for distractions)

My cell phone (for Instagram)

My cell phone charger (necessity)

My computer (to relay my thoughts)

My computer charger (necessity)

A notebook (as you know – I have a lot of thoughts)

The book I am reading (The Girl on the Train)

A blanket (it’s always chilly in Philadelphia)

A sweatshirt (see above)

A bone for Darcy (distractions)

Dog treats for Darcy (distractions)

Speakers (it isn’t an office if it isn’t playing country music)

My keys (otherwise my crazy French neighbors might break in)

So far I don’t think I’ve missed anything. Darcy is chasing a bumble bee despite my warnings (so much for distractions) and I’m laying on the deck writing in the sunshine.  I’m trying so hard to miss my cubical and my boring day job but just cannot seem to get there.  Retirement is a beautiful thing, y’all.


Good Day, Sunshine

Despite what you may have heard, it is not in fact Always Sunny in Philadelphia.  However, the minute it is, I just want to be outside.  I don’t care what I’m doing out there, but if there is sunshine, I want to be in it.  I’ve caught myself numerous times sitting on my roof deck, alone with Darcy, staring out and thinking in the Matthew McConaughey voice from the Lincoln commercials, things like “A storm seems to be brewing in the distance,” or “I would like to eat Indian food for dinner tonight.”

And the funny thing is – it’s freezing.  There isn’t an inch of skin exposed on my body and I still wish I’d brought a blanket up with me.  I try to get Darcy to share her warmth on my lap but she usually stubs me in the stomach until I put her down and she can chase the bees flying around again.  Every time I decide to give up and go inside there’s a quick burst of sunshine and I remember how much fun it is to be shivering out here.

The official office of the Young and Retired...

The official office of the Young and Retired…

When I watch other Philadelphians on neighboring roof decks and walking below, it amazes me the way the city comes alive in the sunshine.  Cold, cloudy, sunshine.  The double-decker buses are filled for every tour weekday in and weekend out, the city is swarmed with tourists posing with peace signs in front of the Liberty Bell and  constant field trips of middle schoolers from suburbia follow Benjanim Franklin and Betsy Ross impersonators all along the sidewalks.  The duck tours are full and per usual, annoying as hell, the Segway-ers are congesting traffic again, there isn’t a parking spot for blocks AND it’s still only 50 degrees outside.

Over the weekend I walked Darcy and decided to count how many people I heard laughing along the way.  I got to two because I forgot what I was doing almost immediately (thank goodness for writing down thoughts – otherwise there wouldn’t be a blog) but that’s still two more than I’ve heard since September.  I thought we should go to a new park and see how other neighborhoods relished in their sunshine.  We chose Northern Liberities – which is full of weirdos and I should have known, but that just means more candidates to write about.

There was the woman who was breastfeeding in front of all of the other park goers.  My cousin recently had a baby and always talks about pumping and things like that. I wish I’d had some pumping pamphlets on me to enlighten her on the beauties of keeping your shirt on in a child friendly and child-less person environment.  I only want to see boobs on naked photo hunt and when my friends get fabulous implants.

There was soccer practice.  It was probably for ages 3-4.  The kids were precious and had no idea what was going on.  I loved the little girl wearing a skirt and hoodie.  Or the other girl wearing jeans, a denim jacket with frills and shoulder pads and flats.  Or the little boys decked out in David Beckham or World Cup 2014 gear.  They would wind up like a cartoon to kick the ball off of a stand into a net three feet away.  It took me back to the days when I played soccer.  I was 5, and I’ve been told I picked the best bouquets of flowers throughout the game that my mom had ever received.

There were bratty kids harassing my dog. She even got away from me at one point and went Cujo on this girl who kept running and laughing and taunting.  I ran after her in my bare feet trying not to lose my Mr. Softie cone at the same time but it made me wish I had pamphlets on boarding school or animal harassment or Santa not coming to kids on the naughty list to give to their parents.

There was Mr. Softie.  Ginger-eyes and I had a long talk about how ice cream trucks just aren’t what they used to be.  I don’t want a deformed SpongeBob, I want Kohr Brothers in a truck to arrive and brighten my day.  Minutes later our dreams came true and someone walked by with softserve.  It was a glorifying moment – and Roommate was good enough to give us an extra $.50, since we are actually children in adult bodies, and hadn’t brought any money.

I decided after a while that my roof deck is a kind of Mecca.  There are no bratty kids, no one is naked and no dogs peeing on my belongings.  Philadelphia in the sunshine is a beautiful view and I cannot wait for a month from now when I can comfortably enjoy it outside without a pair of Uggs.

I almost forgot – there are also a whole lot of bikers.  Bikers are the worst.  The absolutely worst.  Thank you, It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia for handling the biker problem