I have a firm belief that I live in the greatest neighborhood in the greatest city in the country. Not many would agree, which is a bit nice. I mean, if everyone thought that St. Paul was the place to be then it would be a lot less low key that it is, which would defeat the purpose of it being so great. There doesn’t seem to be any “hot spot” here. If you want to be in that scene you would have to drive to Minneapolis, which touches St. Paul.

For whatever reason the GOP has decided to hold their 2008 convention here. I am not entirely upset about this, as I have no love or hate for either side of the political spectrum. But it is going to be strange to have all those people literally driving past my front door for a week next summer.

I live in a neighborhood which is chock full of houses that you and I will never be able to afford. One block over from my street is Summit Avenue, which if you don’t know is nothing more than historic schools, churches, and mansions. Mostly mansions. And most of these were built between 1880 and 1920.

Take a look at this listing for a house that is currently for sale. I would love to see all thirteen of those bathrooms. I often take walks and runs down this street and wonder if any other of the dozens of people running and walking actually live on the street, or if they are just gawkers like myself.

The street I live on is full of old brick apartments, trendy shops that I cannot afford as well as national chains like Starbucks, Pottery Barn, and Helly Hansen. One of the businesses on my block is an old diner that has never been redecorated ever and sells food that makes my tummy grumble for the first two hours after I eat there. But I still eat there about once a week and sometimes I wander down there in pajamas first thing in the morning if I am feeling too lazy to fire up my coffee pot. It’s the kind of place that is frequented by local students as well as old timers who have lived in the area all their lives. I was in there today, taking up a full booth for more time than I should have. I do this about once a week so I am now recognized and the servers know to bring me a cup of coffee, hash browns and eggs over easy. They are always chipper. I almost want to get a job there, except that then I would be an employee of my favorite diner which would take away some of the allure of being a patron.

I was sitting, reading for a class and writing nonsense in my notebook when I looked over and saw a man who should have been in a Norman Rockwell painting. He was about a hundred years old and sipping coffee out of the same stone wear cup as I. I decided to invade his privacy and the privacy of those around me and take some pictures of what I was looking at with my cell cam.

Here’s the man who inspired my paparazzi fit.

I chose biscuits and gravy today.

I love that orange is the dominant color scheme of this place. I have no idea why.

[EDIT] I am not a republican