We are into our second month of our "Princeton adventure." Like a friend who promised to write home everyday, I have written many blog posts in my head. Work (always work), setting up house, and finding the quickest route to Target are just some of the things that have kept me away from actually writing an entry.
Yes, eventually I will explain how it feels like we are living in an academic kibbutz; how Einstein's legacy here at the Institute is very much alive; how the Gothic architecture of the Princeton campus make me feel like an extra in a Harry Potter movie; how I smile at ads for Harris Tweed Jackets in the local paper ("handwoven from Scotland!")....but right now, I am inspired to write about Princeton's underbelly....at least what I call the underbelly.
We arrived at the appointed start time, and the place was already packed. Emma and I joined the frenzy of shoppers thumbing our way through old books, CD, clothing, housewares, toys, furniture, art, holiday items, linens, sporting goods, Grandma styled bric-a-brac, electronics, etc.