Hey Dub-C Borough, We Are Going to Just Have to be Friends

I live in idyllic, warm’n’toasty town snuggled in the suburbs of Philadelphia.  West Chester, which is west of Chester wink wink, is enclaved by desiduous forests, the famous Longwood Gardens and many working organic farms.  (This is starting to sound like the backdrop for a Grimm Faerie Tale. Don’t worry, a major highway slices right through it.)  The heart of this town is the Borough, where Starbucks is the only national chain to have snuck in.  That Burger King on Price Street doesn’t count.  West Chester is not part of the famed Main Line,  but is edgy and cool enough to stand on its own.

Everyone who knows me knows I love the Borough.  I am a Borough wanna-be.  I love that most of the restaurants and shops are owned by locals, and I always know at least one person running/walking their dog/eating on the sidewalk porches.  I love the charming old homes, especially the furtive dungeons and cloacked attics.  * Please note, if you invite me to your home, I usually snoop around and look for peculiarties.  I found an alarm system, probably circa the Prohibition era, at my friend Lisa’s house last Fall.   My friend Susanne’s home was a veternarian’s around a century ago. Sometimes, she finds me chanting in the old horse stalls in her basement. Cue in creepy Vincent Price voice.

Needless to say, after I won the battle to move back up to my frozen tundra homeland 5 years ago, I tried to make a pitch at living in such abode. “Hell, No!”  Responded The Husband.  He had to forsight to realize I needed to be tucked away in the suburbs where I could stay out of trouble.  Sometimes it’s very good to be married to someone who can double as your Dad.  I will always have to remain friends with the Borough,  I must remain in her sleepy “suburbs” (it takes me exactly 4 minutes to get from my driveway to the intersection of Matlack and 202).  It would be a toxic relationship.

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Top 8 Reason’s I Can’t Live In The Borough

8.  I’d be in Rehab.  Way too many parties and themed social events occur.  A lot.  I am far too much of a party person to be in an environment where there is constant fun occurring, and everyone is fully stocked with snooty beers.  And, sometimes they leave their snooty beers in coolers outside on their porch.  Ahem, you know who you are.

7.  SNOW RAGE ALERT!  My husband would be in jail after physically tackling the people who put “savesies” (stolen) cones or aluminum folding chairs along the street.

6.  SNOW RAGE ALERT!  My husband would be in jail after physically tackling the unidentified plow people who nick, crash into, accidently puncture car tires.

5.  SNOW RAGE ALERT!   I’d be in jail after spending hours digging my car out of snow only to have an 19 year old college student pull right into “my space”.

4.  I’d be at least 30 pounds overweight.  I’d eat a Market Street Bruno Burrito for breakfast, Mushroom Gorgonzola Bruschetta from Teca for lunch and alternate between Pietro’s Filet Mignon with Bearnaise Sauce and a Spicy Caterpiller roll from Kooma for din-din.  And that would be everyday.  The Borough is not all that big, so “walking it off” wouldn’t really melt those pounds away.

3.  I’d be in massive credit card debt.  See above. I’d literally eat out for every meal, and my main grocery store would be Carlino’s.

2.  I’d be divorced.  West Chester University is nestled right in the heart of the Borough. Did I mention I love themed parties?  (We don’t get invited to many, so I thought I’d just through that out.)  Did I mention I have an old box of costumes from my FSU greek days?  I would be, in fact, the only 36 year old mother of 3 playing beer pong in an Unga Gunga Balunga outfit.

1.  Did I mention I’d be in Rehab?

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