DEAR ABBY: I have been in a relationship for seven years. My significant other, “Gabe,” and I bought a home together. We are also raising three of his grandsons. I pay half of the mortgage, utilities, food, maintenance and personal necessities. We both pay for our own insurance, car loans and gas.
Abby, there are four of them and one of me. This means utilities and food are used more by them than by me. I’m always after the boys to turn off the lights when not in use and to shut the doors after entering and leaving the house. We live in Arizona, so you can imagine electric bills during the summer, especially in a very large home.
Because Gabe earns more money than I do, I have tried talking to him about the cost. I feel he should pay a higher percentage. Each time, I give him the monthly amount that I spent. He then goes through it with a fine-tooth comb and pays only what he thinks he should pay for. We argue about it every single month. It’s driving me nuts, and the upfront costs are breaking me. Please advise.
— PAYING MORE THAN ENOUGH
DEAR PAYING: That Gabe earns more than you do should have been taken into consideration at the time you began living with him and his grandsons. Financial counseling might help you to determine what such an adjustment would mean in terms of dollars. The National Foundation for Credit Counseling is a reliable resource. Because these monthly financial disagreements could erode your relationship, please consider couples counseling in order to work out a plan that is fair for all parties concerned.
** ** **
DEAR ABBY: I’m having problems dealing with the death of my fiancé, who died by suicide 10 months ago. I blame myself partly for his death. While I realize I didn’t buy the medicine that killed him, I did move out of the house we shared because of his attitude toward me.
I can’t seem to come to terms with his death. I feel responsible because I left the home we shared. I am seeing a counselor, but I’m not making the progress I was wishing I could. Do you have any advice for me and others who’ve gone or are going through this?
— SPIRALING IN FLORIDA
DEAR SPIRALING: Please accept my sympathy for the loss of your fiancé. When someone dies by suicide, survivors are often shocked and traumatized. You didn’t mention if your fiancé suffered from depression, job loss, a physical ailment or some other condition that may have caused him to act out. If he was abusive to you, you did the RIGHT thing by moving out. This is nothing to feel guilty for.
I’m glad you are receiving counseling. Many survivors have been helped by talking things through with a licensed psychotherapist. The American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, established in 1987, lists worldwide suicide bereavement support groups as a public service to loss survivors. It can be accessed at afsp.org. Please don’t wait to reach out.
DEAR ABBY: My best friend, “Brooke,” started dating a man, “Angus,” last year. From the start, he made a poor impression. He met Brooke while he was dating another woman but didn’t tell Brooke about her. Brooke continued hanging out with him only after he broke up with his girlfriend.
The past few months have been nothing short of awful. I see Brooke weekly for coffee, and all she does is tell me how mean Angus is to her and her family. He calls her names, emotionally manipulates her, tells her what she can and cannot wear and looks through every inch of her phone.
Her family loathes him. Her dad told me he never wants to see him again. They are constantly urging Brooke to end the relationship. None of her friends likes him, and she doesn’t seem to either, but will not, for whatever reason, break up with him.
Last week, they decided to get a puppy together. It’s getting exhausting for all parties, including Brooke. What should I do? Should I just leave it alone and let her figure it out and be there when it ends?
— WISE FRIEND IN NEBRASKA
DEAR WISE FRIEND: You are a supportive friend, but you cannot live Brooke’s life for her. Buying a puppy with someone who is abusive does not bode well for her or for the animal, which may become the focus of the abuser’s anger if he feels he cannot control Brooke. Because she won’t listen to family or friends, Brooke IS going to have to figure things out for herself. Save your advice for people who will listen.
** ** **
DEAR ABBY: My longtime friend has distanced herself over the last two years. Unless I call her or invite her to join us at our vacation home, I hear nothing from her, and we are never invited to visit them. We grew up together, were in each other’s weddings, raised our children together and went on many fun trips over the years.
When our husbands were hunting together a few weeks ago, her husband told mine that it would be better if we didn’t mention our grandchildren to them. All of their children have been married and divorced and have no plans to have children. I know she always wanted to be a grandmother, and I am sorry that didn’t happen. Sometimes my grandchildren call while our friends are visiting, and, of course, we have lots of pictures of them around, but we don’t talk about them all the time.
I don’t know how to handle this. I’m hurt that she would cut me off after all these years just because I have grandchildren.
— GAG ORDER IN GEORGIA
DEAR GAG ORDER: She is not cutting you off because you have grandchildren; she is LIMITING HER TIME WITH YOU because she doesn’t, and the phone calls and pictures are depressing for her. A way to handle this would be to see her away from your home so she isn’t constantly reminded.
DEAR ABBY: It seems that everywhere I go, people expect tips. Yesterday, I pulled up to the drive-through at a cookie store, and before I paid or was handed my cookies, the clerk asked, “Would you like to leave a tip?” My niece recently told me that after she left a tip at a restaurant, the server followed her outside and asked if she hadn’t been a very good server because the tip was small. I can give you more examples just from my family regarding their experience with tipping.
In this economy, I don’t feel the 20% rule should apply. For the price of a lunch for two at a sit-down restaurant these days, the tip costs as much as a small entree. When I go through a drive-through, I don’t feel I need to tip because I’m not inside using their facility. But if I don’t, I get a disappointed look from the gal who gets paid to make and hand me my drink. What are your thoughts?
— TIPPED OUT IN IDAHO
DEAR TIPPED OUT: The server you mentioned may need tips to survive on her subminimum or minimum wage income. However, a tip should never be requested, and for a server to follow your niece out of a restaurant to discuss a small tip is beyond the pale. Although some establishments “suggest” tips that can go as high as 35%, most customers give 15% or 20% of the total bill.
Since you asked for my opinion, here it is: Quit complaining. If you think you received adequate service, leave a tip, and you will be warmly welcomed at whatever eatery you choose to patronize.
** ** **
DEAR ABBY: Once a month, my wife and I play music trivia with my brother and his wife at our local pub. We invited them, thinking it would be a great way for us to get closer. (I have an older brother we are closer to.) As it turns out, my sister-in-law belittles my brother in front of us if he questions an answer someone might give (which we all do at one point or another).
At first, we laughed and considered it to be playful banter, but now it has become really uncomfortable. My brother doesn’t say anything back because he doesn’t want to create a scene, so the night always ends on a sour note for me and my wife.
Abby, we’re to the point of telling my brother we no longer want them as partners on our team, but I’m not sure how to go about it. What can we say without creating a major blowup? Help, please.
— SOUR NOTE IN MICHIGAN
DEAR SOUR NOTE: Tell your brother and sister-in-law privately, together, that if she has any criticisms to make about your brother, you would prefer that it not be in public or in front of you because it makes you UNCOMFORTABLE. It is the truth. It may cause them to stop playing music trivia with you, which will solve your problem. However, if they show up and she does it again, end your participation, with no additional explanation needed.
Exact snowfall projections for the weekend’s impending storm are still taking shape, but by Friday afternoon, this much was clear:
There’s likely to be a lot of it.
Forecasts have predicted as much as 18 inches of snow in the city. A snow emergency has been declared, and already, Philadelphia schools have canceled classes on Monday — which means there should be ample time to get outside and enjoy the area’s bounty of prime sledding locales.
With the possibility of the city’s first double-digit snowfall in a decade, the region figures to be a sledder’s haven, with hills in all shapes and sizes.
Temperatures are expected to dip dangerously low beginning Friday night — so be sure to take precautions before heading out.
In the meantime, we’ve rounded up a few of the area’s best sledding spots to help you make the most of the coming snowfall.
The Art Museum’s “Rocky” steps are probably the most famous sledding spot in all of Philadelphia. Flying down solid concrete can be a bit dangerous — so take caution — but there should be plenty of snow on the ground by the time things taper off. And remember, there are some hills around back to hit, as well as a set of (less famous) steps.
Not far from the Art Museum, you’ll find East Fairmount Park’s Lemon Hill, known typically for the Federal-style mansion that stands there. During snowstorms, however, it transitions into a prime sledding spot for kids of all ages, thanks to steep hillsides that are begging for a run. Like others on the list, though, it can get crowded, so be prepared to wait your turn.
Chestnut Hill locals know this spot as a landmark thanks to the 125-foot water tower, but it also happens to be among the neighborhood’s best sledding hills. That’s thanks to a wide variety of hills that make it a great choice for gaggles of kids with varying sledding experience, so feel free to bring the family out and stake your claim.
Aisha Mershani, back right, assists her daughter Zara, 5, front right, and their friend Rachit, 7, back center, as they sled at the Clark Park Bowl, in Philadelphia, Monday, January 6, 2025.
Take a trip to West Philly’s Clark Park, where you’ll find a “bowl” — one of the park’s best-known features — that offers some more moderate slopes for young, budding sledders, or folks just looking for a milder run. As a bonus, it’s a pretty roomy area, so feel free to take a break from the slopes and find a spot to get in on other winter activities, like building snowmen or making snow angels.
Sure, Burholme Park is home to the historic Robert W. Ryerss Museum and Library, but it also happens to be one of Northeast Philadelphia’s best sledding spots once the powder begins to stick. Here, you’ll find a large, expansive hill that serves as the park’s main draw for thrill-seeking sledders, but there are a few smaller, less intense options, too.
Jason Chestnut (left) rides a swing with his son Caleb Chestnut, 10, at the snow filled Anna C. Verna Playground at FDR Park in South Philadelphia on Thursday, January 23, 2025.
This might not be the adrenaline junky’s first choice, but there is plenty of space to ramble in this South Philly park. Plus, you’ll also find some options in nearby Packer Park (the so-called “Bridge Hill” at Broad and Packer is one favorite, but it’s near traffic, so be careful).
With about 50 acres of land, there’s no shortage of hills to choose from, and the scenery is tough to beat. Located in Southwest Philly, Bartram’s Garden might be best known for its historic botanical garden and fantastic skyline views of the city — but add sledding to the list come winter. If you’re planning on driving, the gates on 54th and 56th streets open at sunrise and close at sunset, though exact hours can vary.
You typically can’t go wrong when it comes to sledding and college campuses. On Hawk Hill, the university’s 125-acre main campus, you’ll find plenty of acceptable terrain upon which to relieve the winter doldrums and escape the stresses of student life.
At more than 1,700 acres, Newtown’s Tyler State Park is big. It also happens to be essentially one giant downhill slope that brings out the crowds when a good snow comes. Some favorite spots, according to the Department of Conservation and Natural Resources, are located just below the Upper Plantation Picnic Area parking lot, and west of the park’s covered bridge — so plan accordingly.
Located in Quakertown, Nockamixon State Park is home to all kinds of winter activities, ranging from ice fishing to cross-country skiing. It’s also a great sledding spot, particularly if you head to the area above the park’s marina. DCNR suggests parking in lot 13 for easy access. However, the Nockamixon’s hunting season is open, so be mindful not to enter hunting areas.
If you feel like the other spots on the list haven’t given you room to let loose on the slopes, this Downingtown park just might — it has around seven acres of sledding hills to check out. To get there, the DCNR recommends heading to the picnic area at the East Launch. Depending on when you go, check to see if Marsh Creek’s hunting season is open to avoid those areas.
For a more relaxing day of sledding, head to Media’s Rose Tree County Park. There, you’ll find 120 acres of gentle, rolling slopes that are perfect for novice sledders. If you want something a little more exciting, Ridley Creek State Park — located a couple miles from Rose Tree Park — has great options by its park office.
Yes, Valley Forge is a fantastic historical landmark, having served as the location for George Washington’s winter encampment in 1777 and 1778. But it’s also a great place to get some sledding done for the whole family. The Valley Forge Tourism and Convention Board has a few recommendations, including hills near the Memorial Arch and statue of Anthony Wayne.
Megan Solleder (front) appears to enjoy sledding for the first time with sister Alyssa Solleder at Frank Donio Memorial Park in Winslow in 2007. They were there with their mother.
At about 50 acres, this Sicklerville park isn’t huge, but it is a favorite sledding spot among locals when a good winter snow hits. Take the walking path to easily find plenty of hills to choose from, and get sledding.
In the warmer months, this Mount Laurel park is known for its small fishing lake and nature trail — but come winter, it’s a hot spot for South Jersey locals looking for some good sledding. Head there to find the park’s designated sledding hill, which is near the parking lot, and features a long slope that’s on the gentler side of things, making it great for youngsters.
Back in the late 1800s, this spot was part of a coastal defense system on the Delaware River. These days, it’s a favorite winter sledding spot for folks in Salem County. It’s not for the faint of heart, though, as the hills and embankments can get a little steep for inexperienced sledders — but they are good for picking up some serious speed.
Franki Jupiter grew up in St. Louis, the son of a Presbyterian minister and a Bible study teacher. He was raised to believe he should marry young and remain committed — to both Jesus and his wife — for life.
But Jupiter, 39, didn’t end up doing so.
“I love people, and I’m not great with impulse control,” he explained. (Franki Jupiter is a stage name, but it’s also the one everyone in his life uses.)
After years exploring his sexuality, Jupiter became polyamorous. He met his second wife, G, in 2018 in California, and the two married in 2020, first on Zoom during COVID lockdown and then in a four-day Indian wedding with G’s family.
From the beginning, Jupiter and G have been in an open relationship, but they still consider each other primary partners.
“We have a house together. We’re building a life together. We have two cats together,” Jupiter said. “When you’re in any kind of relationship, it always has to be a conversation.”
Jupiter in the home he shares with his wife.
Jupiter moved to Manayunk this summer alongside G and his girlfriend of four years, A, who lives a 10-minute walk away. (The Inquirer is referring to his partners by their first initials because they requested privacy.)
He works as a relationship and career coach, and is a singer-songwriter trying to put together a band.
The following, as told to Zoe Greenberg, has been edited for length and clarity.
On being the son of a preacher, and queer
My life partnership, first and foremost, was supposed to be with our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. After that, it was supposed to be with one person who you meet and then marry way too early because you’re both eager to have your first intimate relations.
Since I was born, I was queer. I was always putting on my sister’s and my mom’s clothes. There were boys at school that I thought were really cute. I was attracted to drag queens and trans people. I was told very explicitly by my parents and everyone in the church that was not OK.
On having sex before marriage, though he wasn’t supposed to
You’re a 13-year-old boy, and you’re like, “Damn, this is all I can think about. I’m supposed to just give this over to God and actually not think about it?” It just felt less and less biologically possible.
It also messed with my head, because it meant that every person I dated, I wondered, How do I make this person my spouse?
By the time I was 18, I finally had a girlfriend where I could genuinely see us being together forever, which in hindsight is crazy. But I could see it strongly enough that I thought we could probably have sex. And so that was when I decided, All right. This is OK for me.
Having sex as a teenager would not have been in the top 50 things I did that surprised my parents. There was a little bit of a “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy.
Franki Jupiter makes matcha at home.
On becoming ‘feral’ after leaving home
When I got to college, I went fully feral. I dropped out of school and joined a band. I started taking acid all the time, and moved to Rome briefly and studied photography, fell in love there.
The parts of me that had been repressed for so long all came a bit too much to a head.
After a few years I decided to dial it back and see what I was really looking for. I met someone who ended up being my first wife. She was wonderful and we had a lot of chemistry. We knew that the relationship might not stay steady, but instead of honoring that, we got married.
On discovering polyamory
We sold our car, bought a van, and drove out to California. Within a year of being there, we were separated.
One of the things I realized on the heels of our split was I’m really not a one partner kind of person.
Initially I thought maybe I’d just have to be single forever. Then I read a lot of Reddit threads on people with multiple partners. I read some of the Polyamory 101 hits: The Ethical Slut, Sex at Dawn, Polysecure. I knew lots of people in the Bay Area who were polyamorous.
My whole life, I’ve loved people so much that the idea of not being in some relationship was crazy to me. But I knew that if I was going to be in relationships, they were going to be open.
On meeting G, the woman who would become his second wife
We met for dinner and it was great. One of the first things she asked me was, “Are you gay?” I was like, “I’m not not gay. But no, I’m not gay. I’m open for whatever.”
We went back to her place, had a one-night stand, and didn’t expect anything after that. But we kept coming back. There was this unspoken sense that even if we never see each other again, this has been excellent.
On forgetting to tell G he was still married
I was still legally married to my first wife. I had told G from the beginning, “I’m going to be seeing other people, and I actually don’t want to have a monogamous relationship, ever.” I had also been dating other people concurrently and had told everyone, “By the way, I am technically still married and we’re in the process of getting a divorce.”
I guess I neglected to say it to G.
A few months in, we were at her house and she was cooking dinner. I said something like, “I’d love for us to get together again next week, I just gotta wrap some stuff up with my wife.” She was like, “You gotta what?”
I said, “I gotta wrap some stuff up with my wife.” She said, “What are you talking about?”
I said, “Oh my God, did I not tell you?” She said, “No, you did not.”
I asked if she wanted me to leave and she said she didn’t think so. I asked if she wanted me to rub her feet and she said that would be OK.
After that, she said something along the lines of, “It’s OK. It doesn’t seem like this is something you meant to hide from me. I think we can figure out how to move on from here.”
On marrying G
With G having an Indian passport, our scope as a couple was extremely limited. I could see ways in which marrying her was extremely beneficial for both of us, but definitely for her, because she’d be able to move around much more freely.
Honestly, it felt a little bit like what marriage used to be way back in the day. It wasn’t strictly a love marriage.
She actually proposed to me. We went up to the border of Oregon and California and took a bunch of acid. She took a ring off me and put it back on and said, “Wanna get married?”
Franki Jupiter shows off the disco ball decor in his first floor bathroom.
On meeting his girlfriend, A
Our first date was at a historical gay bar in Berkeley. I told A from the get-go, “I have a wife and my wife is going to be a big part of my life.”
She moved to Philadelphia a little before G and I did this summer. A and I see each other weekly, we take vacations sometimes. As far as I’m concerned, and hopefully as far as she’s concerned, we have no intentions of not being together.
One of the reasons we moved to Manayunk specifically was because she was dating a guy who now lives down the street from me. When we came out to see Philadelphia, he gave us the lay of the land. He and I are still buds. She and him are not dating anymore.
On the relationship between his wife and his girlfriend
My wife and girlfriend have very different personalities. I wouldn’t see them being friends independently of me, like if they had met each other and struck up a conversation, I don’t know that they would necessarily have gone back for seconds. But there’s no bad blood there.
There is a finite amount of time, so I don’t foresee adding other long-term partners. But also, who knows?
This story is part of a new series about life partners across the Philadelphia area. See other stories in the series here and here.
If you want to share your story about who you’re navigating life with romantically or otherwise, write to lifepartners@inquirer.com. We won’t publish anything without speaking to you first.
I have invited two Inquirer journalists who I knew could answer this week’s question — Sam Ruland, who has gone to Clearwater for Phillies spring training and frequents the Shore, and Amy S. Rosenberg, a Shore resident and The Inquirer’s Shore correspondent.
Have a question of your own? Or an opinion? Email me.
Evan Weiss, Deputy Features Editor
This week’s question is:
What’s a better vacation: a week at the Jersey Shore or spring training in Clearwater?
Amy S. Rosenberg, Life & Culture Reporter
I’d say if you’re talking about February or March, definitely opt for spring training. We’ve got almost nothing for you down here.
I‘m always really envious of people who go to spring training. Do people envy me for living at the Shore? Maybe. Maybe not.
So maybe it’s easier for me to say definitely take that spring training trip! Then in the summer take day trips to free beaches (Atlantic City, Strathmere, Wildwood) and sit there with the games on audio. That’s just a lovely day at the beach.
Sam Ruland, Features Planning and Coverage Editor
I went to Phillies spring training in Clearwater in 2023, splitting a house Airbnb with friends, doing the full baseball-all-day, casual-night-out routine.
Clearwater felt special because it was a treat: a few days of baseball optimism, warm weather when Philly is still miserable, and no expectations beyond watching baseball and drinking beer.
I think both of these experiences are so different though! Spring training wouldn’t fill the void of missing a week down the Shore in the summer. Spring training is spring break!
Amy S. Rosenberg
Which is more expensive?
Sam Ruland
Depending on when you book flights, it can be cheap. But if you don’t plan far enough out, you can easily end up dropping close to $1,000 on airfare … to Florida. Which feels wrong.
Amy S. Rosenberg
I would have guessed the Shore would be the more expensive. I really miss the old minor league Atlantic City Surf that played on Albany Avenue at the Surf Stadium, a lot of times with fireworks, and their own mascot, Splash. You didn’t need to leave the Shore to have the full experience, especially for little ones. Mitch Williams was the coach one year.
I typically spend about $38 each way to get to Florida from Atlantic City, just saying.
Sam Ruland
WOW!
Amy S. Rosenberg
(Don’t tell anyone about ACY, the world’s greatest airport.)
Sam Ruland
We spent about $200 on roundtrip flights. But when we considered going last year the prices were wayyyy higher.
Amy S. Rosenberg
As someone who’s a Philly sports fan, though transplanted, I sometimes find it hard to get into the teams in the early season, so for me, going to spring training would be a great way to guarantee a full season immersion, which sounds heavenly.
But if you’re stuck up north, and into basketball, Atlantic City hosts the MAAC 10 tournament, which is a great lead-up to March Madness. A lot of times, the teams that win are sleeper upsets in the main tournament, like St. Peter’s Peacocks. Atlantic City people had a head start on that.
Sam Ruland
I think the Shore is probably more money for a full week — no question. But for some reason, it also feels like you get more out of it. And I say that as someone who loves the Phillies deeply and does not enjoy admitting this.
Amy S. Rosenberg
When you’re down in Clearwater, do you get any beach time? Is there even a beach in Clearwater?
(I’m not really a west coast Florida person.)
Sam Ruland
Yes, there are beaches, but for us the days revolved around games and schedules. The beach was there in theory; spring training energy very much took over in practice.
Amy S. Rosenberg
I feel like spring training vacation is something you should do but not every year maybe.
Evan Weiss
Yeah, I think if it’s something you’ve always wanted to do … go for it. Then go down the Shore next year.
Sam Ruland
Agreed! Spring training is a great trip — but the people who go every year usually don’t have to choose. For friends or couples, Clearwater is perfect. For families, the Shore just makes more sense, even if it costs more.
Amy S. Rosenberg
I think it would be an awfully long summer without that trip down the Shore.
Sam Ruland
I mean Jersey Shore in March vs. Clearwater in March, I think yes, Clearwater. You’re not going to Shore that early!
Amy S. Rosenberg
Yeah, March is kind of bleak. Lots of contractors building very expensive homes on land where cute bungalows used to be. I am surprised to see my summer neighbors showing up on long winter weekends though.
Evan Weiss
So if it’s spring training vs. peak summer down the Shore, do you both side with the Shore?
Sam Ruland
Peak summer Jersey Shore, 1,000%. No hesitation. Hoagies on the beach, Shore showers, no shower happy hours, ice cream every night, boardwalk walks for no reason. That’s unbeatable. But in March, being in Clearwater with the Fightins just feels right.
(But one over the other, I think I have to choose Shore.)
Amy S. Rosenberg
I think it’s OK to take a summer off and go to spring training, especially if people in the traveling group are into it. You won’t be banned from the Shore. There are weekends and free beaches and ways to do it without breaking the bank. And if the Phillies go deep in the post-season you can join the locals on the beach with the twilight games on, order a pizza, and you’ll feel like the beach is a South Philly street where everybody’s on their steps listening.
(Just bring a sweatshirt.)
This conversation has been edited andcondensed for length and clarity.
Rocky already has a perfectly good spot. People find it. They take photos. They run the steps. They leave happy. The city gets its tourism moment without blocking views, rerouting pedestrians, or turning the top of the Art Museum steps into a permanent selfie bottleneck.
Moving the statue to the top isn’t about improving the experience — it’s about maximizing it. More drama. More branding. More spectacle. And, quietly, more privatization of space that used to just be… there.
That’s the part that grates. The Art Museum grounds have been slowly filling up with things that make sense individually — pop-ups, shops, events, installations — but collectively start to feel like you need a reason, a ticket, or a purchase to exist there. Rocky at the top isn’t just a statue move; it’s another inch taken from a public place that worked fine as-is.
There’s also the price tag. Spending up to a quarter-million dollars to relocate a movie prop in a city that can’t reliably maintain sidewalks or fund its parks feels, at best, tone-deaf. At worst, it sends the message that the view matters more than access.
Rocky is supposed to represent the everyman. Putting him on a pedestal, literally, kind of misses the point.
Leave him where he is. Let the steps belong to everyone.
Doug Taylor (center) of Collingswood, sledding with his 3-1/2 year old grandson Will, waits for a space to open up on the crowded hill in the Haddonfield Friends Meeting cemetery on Jan. 6, 2025. “This is the best day ever!” said Will, about his first real experience with snow.
Snow is beautiful. Everything else about it is not: A for the initial excitement and beauty, F for the cleanup
The snow itself? Gorgeous. Magical. Instagrammable. The Wissahickon is about to look like a snow globe and for about 12 minutes, we will all pretend winter is charming.
The problem is everything that comes with it.
The grocery stores are already stripped bare like a snowstorm personally offended them. Bread is gone. Milk is gone. Eggs are gone. Somehow the rotisserie chickens are gone. People who have never once made French toast are suddenly preparing for a weeklong siege.
Then there’s the shoveling. The bending. The freezing. The part where you convince yourself it won’t be that bad and then immediately regret every life choice once your boots hit the sidewalk. And that’s before you remember some forecasts are floating numbers as high as 17 inches.
Group chats will fill with radar screenshots and passive-aggressive optimism. “Let’s see how it looks Sunday morning,” someone will say, knowing full well no one is leaving the house.
And yes, we’re all rooting for the plows. We always do. We say their names like prayers. We lower our expectations just enough to avoid heartbreak, but not enough to stop hoping.
An F because while snow may be pretty, it is also disruptive, exhausting, and a logistical nightmare that turns adults into meteorologists and grocery shoppers into survivalists. Enjoy the view. Then grab a shovel.
An artistic rendering of the hologram PETA is offering to replace Punxsutawney Phil.
PETA wants Punxsutawney Phil replaced with a hologram. Pennsylvania says absolutely not: A
Every January, right on schedule, PETA shows up with a new proposal to fix Groundhog Day. And every January, Pennsylvania responds with the same energy it reserves for people who suggest putting ketchup on a cheesesteak.
This year’s idea: Retire Punxsutawney Phil to a sanctuary and replace him with a massive, color-changing 3D hologram. A digital marmot. A Bluetooth rodent. Phil, but make it Coachella.
The problem isn’t animal welfare — it’s that Groundhog Day is not a TED Talk. It’s a pre-dawn ritual involving cold fingers, bad coffee, and a collective agreement to believe in something deeply unserious. Turning Phil into a hologram misses the point entirely. If people wanted a clean, efficient, high-tech weather forecast, they would simply look at their phones and go back to bed.
The most Pennsylvania response came from Josh Shapiro, who posted a photo of Phil with “DON’T TREAD ON ME,” effectively summarizing the state constitution in four words. This is not a debate about projections versus puppets. It’s about tradition versus disruption, and Pennsylvania will pick tradition every time, even when it makes no sense.
Phillies pitcher Ranger Suárez throws during the third inning of Game 3 of baseball’s NLDS against the Los Angeles Dodgers Wednesday, Oct. 8, 2025, in Los Angeles.
Wait, we loved Ranger Suárez. How did we get his name wrong?: C
This one landed like finding out you’ve been calling a close friend by the wrong nickname for years… not out of malice, just momentum.
Because Philly didn’t just like Ranger Suárez. Philly loved him. He was homegrown. Trusted. October-tested. His walk-up song was literally “Mr. Rager.” We chanted it. We printed it. We built a whole vibe around it. And somehow, in all that time, nobody stopped to say, “Hey, by the way, is this right?”
The funny part is that this revelation didn’t come with tension or correction. It came with grace. Of course it did. Suárez wasn’t scolding anyone. He wasn’t reclaiming anything. He was just explaining, gently, to a new city, while reassuring the old one that we didn’t need to panic.
A mock front page of the Philadelphia Inquirer as seen in Season 5 of “Abbott Elementary.”
‘Abbott Elementary’ puts The Inquirer on the front page and nails the vibe: A
This could’ve gone sideways fast. A fictional front page cameo is exactly the kind of thing that can feel smug, indulgent, or weirdly self-important.
In this week’s episode, the paper shows up to cover Abbott’s unexpected success while the school operates out of an abandoned mall. The headline is glowing. The teachers react. Janine beams. Melissa checks whether her quote made it in. Barbara does a victory lap. And then, crucially, the moment passes.
Because in Philly, a front page is not the finish line. It’s a moment.
The district still drags its feet. The construction crew gets reassigned. The attention becomes something administrators can point to instead of acting on. That’s the joke, and it’s a sharp one. Abbott understands that recognition often arrives right before progress stalls, not when it accelerates.
The Four Seasons drops a $25,000-a-night penthouse and Philly blinks twice: B-
Look, nobody is confused about who this is for. It’s still jarring to see the number written down.
For that price, you get 4,000 square feet, sweeping views, curated art, wellness rooms, and menus tied to Vernick Fish and Jean-Georges. Luxury, in other words, is being taken extremely seriously.
And to be fair, this makes sense on paper. Philly is bracing for a monster tourism year with the World Cup, the Semiquincentennial, and a calendar stuffed to the margins. High-end visitors are coming, and the city would like to make sure they don’t stay in New York and commute down like it’s a day trip.
Still, there’s something very Philly about the collective reaction here, which is less awe than quiet disbelief. Not outrage. Not moral panic. Just a pause, followed by: Who is actually booking this?
Because this is a city where luxury tends to coexist awkwardly with reality. A $25,000-a-night penthouse sits a few blocks from potholes, delayed trains, and a whole lot of people who are very proud of finding a good deal.
Maria Cozamanis and Romina Ustayev in episode 101 of “Members Only: Palm Beach.”
Philly somehow gets dragged into a Palm Beach reality show: D
This isn’t fun, campy reality TV. It’s stiff, glossy, and deeply invested in rules that feel made up for the sole purpose of excluding someone. The clothes are loud, the behavior is small, and the hierarchy is treated like gospel. Everyone is performing wealth as if it’s a full-time job, and no one seems to be enjoying it.
Set in the orbit of Mar-a-Lago, the show mistakes proximity to power for personality. Conversations revolve around who belongs where, how to dress “properly,” and which customs are acceptable. It’s uncomfortable in a way that feels less accidental than the show probably intends.
The Philly connection only adds to the weirdness. Aside from one recognizable name, these aren’t women who reflect anything most people here recognize as Philly culture. They don’t feel local. They feel imported, like a version of “high society” that got lost on the way to a country club and wandered onto Netflix instead.
And yet, it’s weirdly watchable. Not because it’s good, but because it’s baffling. The kind of show you finish not feeling entertained, just slightly grimy and confused about how this became the vibe.
The buyers: Carrita Thomas, 33, nonprofit program evaluator; Jake Stein, 42, CEO of a tech start-up
The house: A 6,775-square-foot church in Society Hill built in 1920
The price: Listed for $2.5 million, purchased for $2.5 million
The agent: Kate McCann, Elfant Wissahickon Realtors
Carrita Thomas and Jake Stein on the main floor of their newly purchased church in Society Hill.
The ask: Carrita Thomas and Jake Stein moved to Society Hill in 2021 and immediately fell in love. They grew even more attached after having their first child. They loved the abundance of playgrounds and parking. But most of all, they appreciated how the area functioned as a village. “We have a great community of friends,” Thomas said. “We are very close with our neighbors.”
But when they found out that Thomas was pregnant with twins, their rowhouse, which once felt generous, suddenly seemed cramped. They needed more space fast but didn’t want to leave the neighborhood. They also wanted on-site parking and outdoor space for Thomas to garden. Plus they needed at least six bedrooms. The couple knew they were in for a difficult search.
One of the church’s courtyards with plant beds where Thomas and her daughter recently planted bulbs with friends.
The search: The market moved fast for houses that met their criteria. More than once, they scheduled showings for houses already under contract. Once, they scheduled a showing three days after a house came on the market, only to have the agent cancel because it had already sold. After several misses, they decided to reassess their options, including renovation. “We had not been interested in it before because we’d only heard negative stories,” Thomas said.
Around the same time, Stein noticed a sale sign on a vacant church two blocks from theirhome. It had been unused for decades, its landscaping overgrown, its windows dark. “I always thought it was so cool and interesting,” Stein said. “And what a waste.”
That discovery shifted their search. Instead of continuing to hunt for the impossible-to-find, perfect rowhouse, the couple began to consider the most glaring fixer-upper in the neighborhood.
The couple fell in love with the church’s raw materials, like the stained glass windows lining its walls.
The appeal: Thomas was initiallyskeptical. Every church conversion she had seen leaned toward a loft-style layout, and she didn’t want to live in an open, cavernous space. But walking through the property with an architect helped her picture more-private floor plans.
One of the church’s main selling points was its driveway and ample parking space.
Inside, the building was structurally sound and full of “high-quality raw material,” said Thomas. But what really sold them was the “insane amount of outdoor space.”
To get a sense of renovation costs and trade-offs, the couple also consulted with someone who had previously run a design-build construction company. That process replaced vague anxiety about expenses with concrete ranges. “There are really expensive versions of renovations,” Stein said, “and there are much more reasonable versions.”
Understanding that they could “choose their own adventure” and “dial up or dial down the budget based on their design decisions” made the renovation seem actually doable, if not meaningful.
Thomas appreciated that the church had once been a place where people gathered. “One of our primary values is community,” she said. And the idea of restoring that function — even in a different form — felt really special to the couple. “It just adds so much richness to our lives,” she said.
One of Stein’s favorite features of the church is the basement and the giant warped Ping-Pong table, on which he’s played multiple games.
The deal: Thomas and Steinknew that the terms would be largely out of their control. The seller, who lived out of state, had owned the building for decades and was not inclined to negotiate. She had rejected several offers over the years and did not advertise her property as being for sale online. Even getting the asking price took effort. Their agent had to follow up multiple times. The seller eventually told them it was $2.5 million. She had recently rejected an offer below the asking price without counteroffering, so the couple didn’t bother negotiating. “We know we would only get it if we met all of her terms,” Thomas said. They submitted a straightforward offer, including skipping the inspection, at the asking price, and the seller accepted.
Interior views of the newly purchased church owned by Carrita Thomas and Jake Stein.
The money: Thomas and Stein put $2.5 million down in cash — the full cost of the property — the day they closed. They did not take out a mortgage. The funds came from the sale of Stein’s former software company, which he sold in 2018 for $60 million. Their renovation budget is still fluctuating.
The move: Thomas and Stein closed on the church at the end of September.
A view of the staircase in the rectory that is attached to the church.
They spent the past few months figuring out how to approach the renovation, talking with people who had done similar projects, and meeting with contractors. “It’s a slow process,” Thomas said, “but it’s a really important part of it.” Now, they are finalizing contracts with vendors. She expects the entire project to take about two years. Construction is still a ways away.
They are living in their Society Hill rowhouse for now, and it no longer feels too small. “We’re pretty comfortable,” Thomas said. “Something changed for me after I had the twins. I think both of our tolerance for chaos just went up a lot.”
Any reservations? The couple is happy with their purchase, even though there are still many unknowns. “A lot of careful planning needs to go into this,” Thomas said. “There are a lot of open questions still,” Stein added. They will have to knock down a few walls to figure out what is even possible. It will take at least 10 months to finalize the design. The couple is up for it. “It’s a cool project,” Thomas said.
Life after close: Even though the renovation hasn’t started, the building is already functioning as part of the neighborhood again. The couple hosted a Halloween party for their neighbors, and a few weeks later Thomas had her daughter’s friends over to plant bulbs.
With a population of just over 140,000, New Haven still manages to be tiny Connecticut’s third-largest city — and one that punches well above its weight as a weekend getaway.
It’s a university town, a harbor town, and a New England town, all folded into one. The result is a destination with world-class cultural institutions, excellent food — the pizza is as outrageous as you’ve heard — and easy access to the outdoors, from the river-fed coast of Long Island Sound to one of the largest urban parks in the region. From Philly, it’s about three hours and change up I-95, depending on traffic around New York. Start the car.
Originally the HQ of the tire-producing Armstrong Rubber Co., the Wharf District Hotel Marcel inhabits an architecturally significant, brutalist concrete building honeycombed with windows and retrofitted to run entirely on renewable energy. The inside is just as interesting: terrazzo staircases with mahogany rails, Connecticut-made walnut beds, and a circular bar pouring spirulina margaritas and nonalcoholic spiced cranberry cider.
📍 500 Sargent Dr., New Haven, Conn. 06511
Hike: East Rock Park
New Haven’s central green space, East Rock Park, spans 427 acres and rises 350 feet above the city, rewarding visitors with sweeping views of downtown and Long Island Sound. Not feeling a winter hike? You can drive to the summit instead. Traveling with kids? Stop by the Trowbridge Environmental Center on the park’s west side for hands-on exhibits about the local ecology.
If there’s only one thing you know about New Haven, it’s probably the pizza. Or as they call it here, apizza (“a-beetz”), derived from the southern Italian immigrants that opened the first shops in the early 1900s.
For lunch, stage a mini pie crawl along Wooster Street and compare two legends located a block apart. At Frank Pepe (est. 1925), the tomato pie and oregano-dusted white clam pie are classics for a reason. At Sally’s Apizza (1938), whose recent expansion hasn’t dimmed the original’s quality, the blistered tomato pie with mozzarella is the move.
📍 Frank Pepe: 157 Wooster St., New Haven, Conn. 06511
📍 Sally’s Apizza: 237 Wooster St., New Haven, Conn. 06511
Visit: Yale Peabody Museum
If there are only two things you know about New Haven, they’re probably the pizza and Yale. The Ivy’s lovely, leafy campus dominates the center of town. (It’s no Penn, but…) The impressive collection at the Yale Peabody Museum, which is free to visit and requires no advance ticketing, includes a towering brontosaurus skeleton, a 300-pound Brazilian tourmaline cluster, and 4000-year-old Mesopotamian cuneiform tablets.
Decried as an incongruous eyesore when the Gordon Bunshaft-designed Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library opened in 1963, the modernist building has become an architectural icon on campus. Translucent marble cladding gives the interior a cozy glow while protecting the literary treasures, which are arranged in a stunning five-story cubic column, from sun damage. Even if you’re not a rare-books obsessive, it’s worth visiting for the space alone. Current exhibits include a 15th-century Gutenberg Bible and illustrated Japanese crepe-paper books.
It’ll likely be a bit too chilly to sit out on the pretty deck over the Quinnipiac River, but the warm woodwork and porthole windows get the seafood-tavern vibe across well at Fair Haven Oyster Co. Start with four different types of New England oysters, then progress to tots topped with American sturgeon caviar, oil-poached tuna toast, and bone-in skate wing in Meyer lemon brown butter. Skip dessert.
Based in Litchfield County, Arethusa Farm Dairy produces some of the richest ice cream around, using 16%-butterfat milk from its own cows. Lucky for New Haven visitors, there’s an outpost at the Yale Shops. Breathe in the smell of freshly pressed waffle cones while choosing from classic flavors like coconut-coconut chunk, strawberry that actually tastes like strawberries, and an excellent coffee ice cream. One scoop is never enough.
DEAR ABBY: A few years back, my brother gave me a substantial amount of cryptocurrency. A couple of years after that, he did something that hurt me and my husband deeply and destroyed any trust I had in him. As a result, I have greatly reduced contact with him as well as my entire family.
When I explained how what he did made me feel and how it affected my life, my brother “sort of” apologized, but it wasn’t genuine — and during this fake apology, he mentioned he wanted his crypto back.
Because I had had some financial difficulties, I couldn’t give back the money. The cryptocurrency had been a GIFT. When he gave it to me, there was no agreement about paying him back or what to do with it. (He confessed that he had made a huge mistake by giving it to me.) When I told him I couldn’t give it back, he sort of let it go. But now we are barely on speaking terms, and I feel awkward because I can feel his resentment.
I no longer trust him, and I’m not sure how to proceed. I’m not angry; I’m just cautious because of his previous careless actions and because he lacks a verbal filter, especially toward my husband, who is sensitive. How do I deal with the fallout?
— ONCE BITTEN, TWICE SHY
DEAR O.B.T.S.: I wish you had gone into more detail in the second sentence of your letter. If I have read it correctly, your problems with your brother have less to do with the cryptocurrency debacle and far more about how he treats your husband. As I see it, you have every right to proceed with caution where your brother is concerned. If he can’t watch his mouth around your husband, some distance may be better for all of you.
** ** **
DEAR ABBY: I’m retired and have discovered a love for making bags, totes and purses with my sewing machine. A few years ago, I started doing local craft shows — not because I’ve turned this into a business, but because it helps clear out the growing inventory. Financially, we’re fine. I’m not risking money we don’t have.
My husband, who still works, strongly disapproves of this. He says I’ve made a job out of a hobby, and he thinks it’s silly since I don’t really make money. He has even suggested I’d be better off throwing my creations away. In truth, after a lifetime of working and raising kids, I finally have time to do something that makes ME happy.
I feel torn. Must I stop doing something I love to keep peace at home, or continue and risk his ongoing resentment? It’s heartbreaking to feel that every time I try something new, I’m met with resistance.
— STILL STITCHING IN THE SOUTH
DEAR STILL STITCHING: Your husband appears to be more than a little controlling by attempting to tell you how to spend your free time. Your hobby is what it is. It’s a source of pleasure — and it’s not meant to be another income stream. Continue doing what you enjoy and please do not buckle under the pressure.
