Today

Was a perfect day, more than adequate to make up for the wreckage that was Saturday, September 15, 2007.

For today we went to Kennywood and I rode all the roller coasters including the tall, scary Phantom's Revenge (a first). I sat in the front car of the Jack Rabbit (another first) and screamed my head off at being hung upside down (never again, it was terrifying) on the Areo 360.

Only in Pittsburgh can you walk around an amusement park on a Sunday afternoon and listen to the Steeler game over the PA system.

As for Saturday...

I tried to do a good deed yesterday. The good deed was successful, but I ended up feeling terrible about it. That I had only myself to blame for feeling badly made me feel even worse.

J and I made separate plans on Saturday. J and his father were going to watch J's nephew race his BMX bike. I was going to take my bike on the Eliza Furnace Trail (aka Jail Trail for its proximity to the Allegheny County Jail) and take some photographs of the graffiti and a Sprout Fund mural.

When J's father arrived I was in the middle of throwing ingredients for chicken noodle soup into the crock pot and I asked J's father to come by after the races to have dinner. When J's father asked me what I was cooking, I responded honestly, that I was making soup. J's father, in classic fashion, announced that he did not want that for dinner and would not eat with us unless I made chili instead. Because J's mom never made chili any more.

I should have told J's father to go buy a pizza then. But I did not. We have not had the best relationship (ever) and it has deteriorated even further in the past year as we started setting hard limits on what behavior we will accept. In turn he has become more irritable and difficult to deal with, partially because he is not being given the control he had before. I want very much for J to continue to have a good relationship with his father. So, as a gesture of goodwill, I said I would make him chili for dinner.

My plans went totally to hell after that. An hour and fifteen minutes round trip to the grocery store, due to traffic, construction and being force to shop amidst total chaos at noon on a Saturday. Another hour down for prep work, cutting up the peppers, onions and garlic, carefully browning the beef and pork, making the seasoning mix and rinsing the beans. Still I thought, since J and his father were not due back until between 5 and 6 PM, I would have time to go for a bike ride. Cook for an hour, shut off the stove and leave instructions to cook a second hour, stir periodically and serve.

Except that J called at 3:15 to tell me that they were all ready on their way back to the house. No chance for me to turn off the stove and escape after all. Even though J offered to help, I said no as I did not want to give the impression I was being rude.

Facilitating their relationship, I kept telling myself. Even after J's father made comments about how there was not enough beans in the chili and that the bread we used was different. To his credit, he did enjoy it and went home with two containers of it to use on hot dogs.

And I went to bed discouraged.