Trying to B-more

The house was built in 1885. It's a narrow place, a worker's home. Exposed brick everywhere, old wood. An extensive rehab a couple years ago has left it with the interesting juxtaposition of gleaming stainless steel next to ragged brick. I like it.

The cats are adjusting to having stairs. As fat as they'd gotten, they could use the exercise. So could I.

The combined ages of the widows on either side of us is over 160. The newcomer has been here in Federal Hill for about 40 years, the other, two decades longer. They are fun, and fiesty, and have that incredibly unique Baltimore patois that I can imitate for a word or two, but no further.

There are at least 100 bars within walking distance, one of which is six doors down. The Inner Harbor is 15 minutes away (by foot), as are the Ravens and Orioles stadiums. We're still living out of boxes, and half of my stuff is in limbo, but we're thrilled.

And yes, that is the view, looking east, from the rooftop deck...