Tomorrow I fly back to Erie to spend a couple days with family. My mother has taken all the necessary precautions prior to my arrival - she has amassed a stockpile of Claritin and, for reasons still unknown, five half-dozen packs of assorted bagels. I theorize that I may have drunk dialed her one night and blathered my affections for That Thing I'm Hungry For RIGHT NOW!!!!!, which has resulted in this week's menu at the Peters household - Nothing But Bagels. I guess I should be thankful that it is not celery and peanut butter, or raisins in tapioca. Or something that came from the garden and was marinated in pollen before it became dinner.
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Ah, Erie, my (former) hometown! It seems I can't escape it, even when I try. Though I'm roughly 2,500 miles away, I'm still reminded of my birth city every time I sneeze or suddenly experience an excruciating, stabbing pain in my eyes. I've had no severe allergy attacks since I moved away in 2002, but somehow Erie still keeps shoving its way into my system. Most recently, it presented itself to me visually:
Taken in Chinatown, Los Angeles this past weekend. I have to go out on a limb here and assume that NO graffiti artist would ever designate himself the pseudonym of "erie," because that's just lame. Instead, I like to believe that natives of my hometown have formed an utterly hopeless gang and are attempting to expand their turf. For whatever reason, this seems plausible to me. Watch out, Chinatown! If you aren't careful, bloodthirsty Erieites will subvert your society and redesign your already-confusing shopping centers to resemble semi-automatic handguns:
For those who aren't aware - this is the directory/layout of Erie, PA's Millcreek Mall. I am not even kidding. Go ahead and search it on Google Earth. This is what I'll be seeing in just over 24 hours.
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