04 December 2007


As I walked home from Coldstone holding my Like It filled with a mish-mash of white chocolate and cake batter ice cream, I couldn't help but be amazed at the gentle snow flurries that clouded my vision. Initially I was impressed by the beauty of the little flakes of snow lit by the glow of the Christmas wreaths hung on the street posts; then the thought that I was carrying ice cream through snow flurries momentarily bamboozled me.

Media is a nice little town. It's very old, very middle class, and very yuppieish. A trolley runs down State Street, the primary street in the town. An old stone armory serves as the home for Trader Joe's and near the end of the street sits an old, beautiful theatre across the street from an elementary school that looks like a castle. The town is rather quaint and I like it and I like snow.

I'm nearing finals week and I'm much less stressed than I should be. I need to write three papers between now and next Wednesday. It should be fun.