So far I have exactly one response to my query: What do you want to see on this blog that you don't see now? Peter asks for "some information about the city of Philadelphia." Oh, boy. You don't want to ask someone who loves their hometown as much as I do for that. There's nothing I love more than this city. Not my friends. Not my parents. Not my sugar gliders, God bless their tiny hearts. If I got a tattoo, it would say "PHILLY."

In fact, when I go to New York, even for just a day, and then see the Philly skyline when I'm coming back to town, little tears spring to my eyes. "My home!" I think. "Be it ever so humble..." And gosh golly if that phrase doesn't apply perfectly to this town. Humble! Kind of dirty! Corrupt! Black and white people yelling at each other! Cops shooting citizens! Citizens selling drugs! Sidewalk memorials! And plenty of obesity on display throughout the summer via tank tops and short shorts!

I'm entirely sincere when I talk about how much I love it, though. And tonight I'm going to take Peter's suggestion and reflect—just me, a glass of wine, a good meal and the skyline for my company. And then I'll write a sestina about the city, and post it here tomorrow. Or maybe a sonnet. Or, if that's too hard, maybe, like, an ode. Or some free verse. How about free verse? I likee the free verse. (And yes, I did say "likee.")

Tomorrow I have jury duty, and I'm really hoping to get picked. They never take me, maybe because I have that hungry, eager, "I'm a very fair person—really!" look on my face, so I'll probably be blogging in the afternoon, rejected once again by a capricious justice system. But in the unlikely event that you don't hear from me, you can assume I'm taking part in Law and Order and Doing the Right Thing by Serving My City. Keep your fingers crossed, and Peter, I'll be working on that poem.