Ah, well. Never mind.

What meara said!

I'm reminded of when I was in Edinburgh, and we heard about the New Town area, and I didn't want to go because I didn't want to see modern architecture, and the tour guide gently told us that the "New" Town was built in the 1700s. Oh. Right. Americans, sorry!

OLD is pre-1900, people.

There are a few buildings in my neighborhood the survived the 1812 burning, but most like mine are around 1860ish.

This morning, I did see one with a plaque from 1830.

Man. Growing up in California where 1920 is ancient makes this hood quite special.

Found out why I needed to call home, stat:

My father was robbed at a stop light--a guy whose windscreen washing he'd turned down reached into the car and stole his phone. So my father pulls out into traffic, does a U-turn, chases him with the car as the thief jumps onto the back of a bus (like, the back, hanging on) and now, getting worried now that the thief is too mobile, my 75 year old father pulls over (traffic is heavy) onto the sidewalk, pops on the hazards, and chases after him on foot yelling "Tief! Tief! Him tek mi phone! Hol' 'im down!" much to the bemusement of many.

A little ahead he sees two cars orchestrate a tandem block so the thief can't pass, and one driver comes out of the car and grabs him with one hand, and holds a gun on him with the other. Daddy catches up to them, and the robber calmly gives the phone back. It takes a little bit, but my father convinces the off duty security guard to let the guy go. He'd heard my father running and yelling and himself had pulled a U and come back and outpaced them both and then blocked the thief's way. Oh, and pulled his piece.

A few minutes later, an irate woman pulls my father over. Turns out he hit her in his chase, and she'd been tracking him down, thinking he was crazy and dangerous, and was cussing him out. Armed dude had decided that he wanted to be reassured my father was fine, so he doubled back and saw the yelling. This time, without his gun, he helped him out again--explained the situation to her, and they eventually resolved that the damage was minor and nothing needed to be taken any further and then everyone went home, including my father and his phone.

ita !, what a saga! If you wrote that in a story, people would say it was unbelievable.

omg ita.

I'm glad your dad is okay, but WOW.

ita, if I need to call your father and give him a stern talking to, I am happy to do it. I am getting very good at lecturing my father on STOP DOING THINGS, YOU ARE 70 and NEED KNEE SURGERY AND HAVE A METAL PLATE IN YOUR NECK!!!

Damn, ita, your father is a BAMF. (though I feel like we already knew that?)

I'm going to say that sometimes "old" just means that the people who built it didn't expect it to remain standing this long. That'd be my home. It's not "old" as in historically valuable or built a long long time ago, it's "old" as in "damn, all the siding has finally rotted out and we need to replace the wiring, don't we?"

Okay wait, nevermind, I think there's another word for that. My house is a "tear-down." "Old" sounds better.

Holy shit, ita!

Also I love that my reaction was a mix of msbelle's and Nora's.

Oy, ita!Dad.