Still feeling fairly well today, during my respite from chemotherapy. I drove myself out to pick up a prescription, and then Gail took me over to Nay Aug park for a photo walk. Nay Aug is the "Central Park" of Scranton, and has been undergoing a slow rebirth over the last few years. When I was a lad it held a small amusement park and a modest zoo; surviving still are the Everhart Museum and the large public pool.
Of course, we are still playing with our new toys, the matching cameraphones we bought yesterday. Gail is 'way ahead of me on figuring out how to use hers; we have a lot of new features. The cameras actually work very well, and we can send images to each other, or to our Flickr albums and/or 'blogs. (Gail, the ultimate Flickrite, can browse Flickr on her phone now!) When we sat down for a while in the comfy Adirondack chairs, we clicked each other. Note that our phones are the same, but I have a protective cover on mine; I have a bad record of mobile phone abuse.
Later, as the sun went down, we dropped off Gail's film and went for a drive around town to see if there were any remarkable Halloween houses. There is one family down the hill from us who convert their whole house into a "haunted mansion", complete with animated monsters and a lightshow; the police have taken to putting up cones so that people can slow down and turn up the alley to appreciate the scene. We saw a few well-turned-out porches, some with giant inflatable ghouls, but nothing too spectacular. Maybe people aren't done yet, or we haven't found a properly tacky neighbourhood.
We did find a house that was pretty scary, without any intention on the part of the owner - a crumbling, massive house down in Scranton's "plot" section, hard by the abandoned railroad tracks. A single light shone in one back room, revealing a room strewn with junk and skewed pictures on the wall. The lot next to the house was surrounded by rickety barbed-wire fence, and hung with "No Trespassing" signs; as Gail slowly circled, a frightened rabbit jumped out into the headlights. I opined that the house would be the appropriate residence for a chainsaw murderer, and we moved on...
