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  • This Weekend: Dori’s Guide for “Staycationers”

    The first time I heard the term "staycation" in place of vacation, I grimaced and prayed that Merriam-Webster would not be declaring it an official English word anytime soon. However, it seems to be sticking, with astronomical gas prices and the sad lack of truly fuel-efficient vehicles. So let's go with it. If you are postponing faraway travels to stay close to home, good for you.

    I decided to give Justin a little break from his normal weekend post, so here are some ideas—listed in random assorted genres—to help you find something that whets your whistle without draining your gas tank.   Full Article »

  • Golfers’ Glee

    Hi, Dori here with a golf anecdote for you avid links lovers out there. I hardly qualify as a golfer, but I have tried my hand at the game. When I was growing up here, my parents belonged to Blue Mountain Golf Club, so that's where I used to make my feeble attempts at playing. If I were not so competitive about it and, in the words of my husband, could just enjoy playing badly, I might still be taking my swings. But this course is not really a learner's course. It's on the side of a mountain, with narrow, unforgiving fairways, and should you miss the fairway, roughs that are really, really rough. Like copperhead snake rough.

    Last weekend, my sister was bringing her new beau home to meet the family. It was decided that the boys could bond over golf, so my dad started calling around for a tee time. (The parents now play more than ever and have long since decided they would rather play many courses than belong to one.) Anyway, the old standby Dauphin Highlands was booked for an event on Saturday, so Dad called Felicita (formerly Blue Mountain) and found that rates were discounted the later you started so he could get the foursome on for $39 each at 1:00pm. This, he decided, was an acceptable price to play this course, considering new boy might not be (a) good at golf or (b) worth the investment. What can I say? This is my dad.   Full Article »

  • From Central PA to NoVa, SoFla, NYC, CT and back: Why It Pays To Live Here

    I recently spotted an article listing the Harrisburg-Carlisle area as the third "most liveable" area among cities with "affordable housing" in America. Now, some people who live here might raise an eyebrow at this, not realizing just how great we have it here. I, for one, would not be among the naysayers. I grew up in the 'burbs of Harrisburg, went to Central Dauphin East H.S., left for college, and — admittedly — never thought I'd move back here in, oh I don't know, one million years (said in Austin Powerseque manner). So, how did I end up here again and why did it take me 20 years to figure it out?   Full Article »

  • Simply Turkey on Sabbatical

    The Spotobe office is downtown, so we are fortunate to have a wide variety of lunch spots within a short jaunt. When we get a group together, we often go to Strawberry Square, where there is something to accommodate everyone, even my "I feel like a milkshake and Auntie Anne's pretzel bites" days. Many people here are fond of Taco Factory, plus you have the fast food options. Our other favorite has been Simply Turkey & More (bad name, but yummy soups, salads & sandwiches), which is on the lower level near the Market Street entrance.   Full Article »

  • Central PA Outdoor Swimming Guide for Daytrippers

    I don't know about you, but when it's hot and humid outside, I'm looking for water. Specifically, iced, cold drinking water by a nice, big swimming pool. Last year, we joined one of the community clubs, but with both my husband and me working, we hardly ever went. We decided not to fork over the cash for it this year. But, you see, my son is a fish out of water. He is never so happy as he is when he's wet (not the diaper-variety wet, but virtually any other kind of wet—hoses, sprinklers, baths, showers, pools, you name it).

    So, last week, feeling like a bad mom for choosing to save $250 over his supreme happiness, I started conniving—whom I could impose upon who has a pool? My aunt and uncle—maybe. My friend three hours away in New Jersey—nah. The neighbor up the street who's friends with our friends—too desperate. Then it occurred to me that maybe some pools offer daily admission to non-members. I was on a mission. Lucky for you, I am generously sharing my findings below, and Justin has been kind enough to add all of these places as Spotobe locations.

    We ended up checking out the pool at Little Buffalo last weekend and found it to be quite lovely with attentive lifeguards and very reasonable prices at the snack bar. This weekend...haven't decided yet. Have fun exploring your options! (Just in case you're wondering, I snapped this photo, so you won't find me in it, just the husband and my fish.)   Full Article »

  • Surviving Summer Air Travel

    With Justin sunning himself up at Lake Wobegon, I find myself tasked with the responsibility of updating the Spotoblog. Initially, I was excited to pinch-hit but when this morning I realized I had to produce, nary an idea came bubbling up to the surface of my consciousness. Fortunately, in my efforts to post more events and performers on Spotobe, I somehow (don't ask me how), stumbled upon the most remarkable site for air travelers: OneBag.com. If you are flying here for a visit or flying elsewhere for a vacation, I strongly recommend you give this site a thorough read. It's extremely detailed, but well-organized, highly lauded and chock full of surprises (like why not to use a wheeled bag!). Having a two-year-old, my husband and I have more or less sworn off air travel for a while, at least with the kid, but it's easy to remember how taxing those checked bags can be. Not to mention the current situation of paying for each checked bag, regardless of weight. While I'm on the topic of air travel, here are some other random tips:   Full Article »

  • Hit and Miss at Carmella’s

    Big boss Dori checks in again after lunch at Carmella’s Trattoria. She also gives her second bathroom review in as many posts. I’m beginning to feel as though becoming a parent makes you view restaurants as changing tables that happen to serve food. Frightening. Anyway, here’s what she had to say:   Full Article »

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