Then hockey got in the way.
The Post Gazette sports writers and fans who have been following the Penguins have been providing some truly priceless exchanges between Penguins and Rangers players.
Exhibit Number 1:
"I just told him I wanted to fight," Laraque said, shrugging. "I wanted to change the momentum."
Orr's response?
"He just said, 'C'mon, Georges, it's 3-0. I can't,' " Laraque said.
Exhibit Number 2:
“According to EN reader Nick Porto, Pierre McGuire, the NBC analyst stationed between the benches, said Sean Avery make a remark to Crosby near the benches during a television timeout. Hal Gill responded, "You know what? You just weren't hugged enough as a child. That's why you have issues."
----------------------------------------
I'm also realizing, for the sake of my sanity, that I am going to have to stop reading the New York Times Slapshot blog and sports articles, at least in the short term.
There is the sheer sexism in spelling Crosby's first name as "Cindy". The accusations that Crosby and Therrien are whiners. The (invalid) complaints about Crosby diving. All of these statements are familiar. All of them stem from fans who must resort to impugning a player's character because they have nothing legitimate to add to the conversation.
But sometimes, I wonder. Am I watching the same game? Do his detractors actually watch him play? Do they notice that the one thing Crosby does above all others is keep going? He never, ever stops moving when on the ice. He lowers his center of gravity when he curves around a net, protecting the puck. He constantly hones moves such as this in practice.
Which makes these latest accusations, coming from Straka (and Jagr) especially painful as I have great respect for the talent and work ethic of two men who contributed an enormous amount during their time with the Penguins.
My attire when attending Penguins games is an game-worn, autographed Martin Straka jersey. Straka is my favorite player, no matter what team he is a part of. But if this is how is going to chose to play the game - to act out from emotion instead of calling on his talent and skill to score goals and win games- then allow me to be the first to suggest that it is time for him to hang up his skates and for me to frame his jersey and place up on the wall. In a matter of seconds he managed to throw away the ten years worth of good will he built up as a member of the Penguins organization. The fans booed him when he stepped onto the ice today.
But whose fault is it, that I am disillusioned by a player I so admire? Mine, actually. I put Straka on the pedestal. I need to take him off it now.
And now, just for the sake of showing my intended post...
Without the blue satin sashes. With white patent leather shoes, white socks, white gloves and crowned with white flowers and veils.
Today was the first holy communion and confirmation of J's oldest niece. This is the second of three first communions I will be required to attended, as J's youngest niece will go through the ritual in another two years. And two years from now I will be disturbed, once again, by the girls in white veils.
I hate this custom. It burdens a group of eight year old girls with social and sexual connotations that they are too young to understand. Most of the parents have no idea about the symbolism behind the veil. They argue tradition without fully understanding why they are arguing in tradition's favor.
I was pleasantly surprised when J's brother, a priest, agreed with my objections, for essentially the same reasons. He also added an angle I had not thought of. Simple economics. Some families cannot afford to purchase such a dress (or suit) for a single occasion. Buying a nice outfit the child can wear to church or other occasions is less of a waste and prevents parents from turning a religious celebration into a competition.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Thursday, April 24, 2008
I Am Not a Prude
I don't have issues changing in front of other women in the locker room. The time when I have found the being naked in front of a bunch of other women fraught with peril has passed. Granted I had to join a gym to get over it, but over it I am.
However, I am getting increasingly irritated by my gym's failure to repair the faucets in the private showers. All three of the private stalls are out of commission, forcing the women who use that particular locker room to use the open showers instead. As the gym will be moving to a new building in less than a year, the maintenance staff has zero motivation to make repairs.
Which means there are going to be a lot of angry people on the bus for the next few months, especially the unlucky individuals who are forced to sit down next to my sweaty, smelly self.
However, I am getting increasingly irritated by my gym's failure to repair the faucets in the private showers. All three of the private stalls are out of commission, forcing the women who use that particular locker room to use the open showers instead. As the gym will be moving to a new building in less than a year, the maintenance staff has zero motivation to make repairs.
Which means there are going to be a lot of angry people on the bus for the next few months, especially the unlucky individuals who are forced to sit down next to my sweaty, smelly self.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
So Sweet
The Penguins recently put out a "fanciful" team picture as a desktop wallpaper. It was on the Pittsburgh Penguins website for a very brief period of time before someone decided to take it down. Which is a pity, because it is a great team photograph.
Even Sergei Gonchar has a smile.
h/t The Sidney Crosby Show for posting the photographs.
Even Sergei Gonchar has a smile.
h/t The Sidney Crosby Show for posting the photographs.
Spring Ride
J and I went for a twenty mile bike ride yesterday, on a new (to me) portion of the YRT, along the Youghiogheny River. I successfully managed to avoid breaking bones in my hand by turning the ceiling fan off before changing out of my pajamas.
There were not as many houses on the this portion. Simply miles of blooming forest, teeming with large -flowered trilliums, wild violets and bluebells on one side and the river filled with fishermen (and women) and boaters on the other. In between were abandoned buildings and closed coal mines.
There were not as many houses on the this portion. Simply miles of blooming forest, teeming with large -flowered trilliums, wild violets and bluebells on one side and the river filled with fishermen (and women) and boaters on the other. In between were abandoned buildings and closed coal mines.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Still Tired – a Meandering Post
I'm still tired, the natural consequence of the overtime I put in on Saturday and cramming three days worth of work into two on Monday and Tuesday.
As tired as I am, it has not stopped me from reflecting on my disastrous “girl date” on Saturday evening. I'm still alternating between amusement, indignation and (if I am honest) indulging in a little bit of self-pity. All while trying to keep up with a work schedule that promises to be busy and highly stressful until mid-June.
That strange sense of déjà vu, of seeing what should be an enjoyable evening with an interesting person go completely off the rails. The gender has changed, the goal has changed, the ending is the same.. All these married years later, I still find it difficult to connect with women on a social level.
And I am indignant, insulted really. Tiresome it is, to be lectured on the ticking of my biological clock, with little regard to the reasons behind the choices I have made. Tiresome it is, to be judged on how much (or how little) alcohol I chose, once again ignoring the reasons behind those decisions.
With all this in my head, I stopped work for a few minutes to step outside into the sunshine. With a whopping $3.80 in my checking and $6.25 in bills and quarters, I head the long way towards Starbucks.
First I passed a panhandler, Dot. Dot comes every day and sits near the abandoned McDonald's on Forbes and Wood. She says “God bless you” to everyone who passes her by, whether they give or money or not. When she collects what she needs daily to supplement her welfare income, she goes home.
I give her a dollar.
Next is the abandoned Foto Hut and an empty lot. The lot has been empty for two or three years. Before the building was emptied and the roof fell in, it was a used bookstore. Now a chain link fence blocks the lot from the street.
Someone has hung an urban art installation on the fence, a series of cut out books with photographs of the building, deeds and other written pieces of Pittsburgh history. Someone else has removed some of the books. The rest will most likely be gone tomorrow, when I am able to return with my camera. This small tribute to Pittsburgh's past is surprising and touching and makes me wonder whether there are more moments like this erected about the city.
Later, on my way home from the gym, I look out the bus window and see two more panhandlers, street people actually. One is a woman who looks shell shocked, as if she cannot believe that she is sitting on a street asking for money. The other is an older man, one I have seen before. A second man walks past him, then turns around comes back to put a dollar in his cup.
I watch this homeless man for what seems like several minutes. He lifts the cup to his face and peers intently into its short depths. His face registers no emotion. He considers the contents and places the cup firmly back on the ground. And he waits.
As tired as I am, it has not stopped me from reflecting on my disastrous “girl date” on Saturday evening. I'm still alternating between amusement, indignation and (if I am honest) indulging in a little bit of self-pity. All while trying to keep up with a work schedule that promises to be busy and highly stressful until mid-June.
That strange sense of déjà vu, of seeing what should be an enjoyable evening with an interesting person go completely off the rails. The gender has changed, the goal has changed, the ending is the same.. All these married years later, I still find it difficult to connect with women on a social level.
And I am indignant, insulted really. Tiresome it is, to be lectured on the ticking of my biological clock, with little regard to the reasons behind the choices I have made. Tiresome it is, to be judged on how much (or how little) alcohol I chose, once again ignoring the reasons behind those decisions.
With all this in my head, I stopped work for a few minutes to step outside into the sunshine. With a whopping $3.80 in my checking and $6.25 in bills and quarters, I head the long way towards Starbucks.
First I passed a panhandler, Dot. Dot comes every day and sits near the abandoned McDonald's on Forbes and Wood. She says “God bless you” to everyone who passes her by, whether they give or money or not. When she collects what she needs daily to supplement her welfare income, she goes home.
I give her a dollar.
Next is the abandoned Foto Hut and an empty lot. The lot has been empty for two or three years. Before the building was emptied and the roof fell in, it was a used bookstore. Now a chain link fence blocks the lot from the street.
Someone has hung an urban art installation on the fence, a series of cut out books with photographs of the building, deeds and other written pieces of Pittsburgh history. Someone else has removed some of the books. The rest will most likely be gone tomorrow, when I am able to return with my camera. This small tribute to Pittsburgh's past is surprising and touching and makes me wonder whether there are more moments like this erected about the city.
Later, on my way home from the gym, I look out the bus window and see two more panhandlers, street people actually. One is a woman who looks shell shocked, as if she cannot believe that she is sitting on a street asking for money. The other is an older man, one I have seen before. A second man walks past him, then turns around comes back to put a dollar in his cup.
I watch this homeless man for what seems like several minutes. He lifts the cup to his face and peers intently into its short depths. His face registers no emotion. He considers the contents and places the cup firmly back on the ground. And he waits.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
I Spent All Day in Front of a Computer...
...to come home and spend more time in front of a computer, as tired as I am. Because life has been a little too interesting to allow events of the past several days to pass without commentary.
Hockey:
The Penguins are now 3-0 in Playoff Round 1 and looking towards wrapping up the best of seven series in Ottawa on Wednesday night. The highlight of the series was Game 1, when 41 year old Gary Roberts challenged two Senators to a fight, had to be forcibly removed from the ice by two linesmen and amassed 16 minutes in penalties with 12 seconds left to play.
The Cult of Gary Roberts is strong in Pittsburgh.
Well known Rangers pest Sean Avery inspires a new interpretation on rules about screening the opposing goalie, nicked named “The Avery Rule”. Points to Avery for creativity.
Locally:
Rumor has it that the explosion that destroyed two houses in the North Side was not caused by natural gas. It is a slow spring in Western Pennsylvania.
H/t and personal to Jay: While I fully acknowledge that a gunshot in the head is the most effective way to dispatch meteorite zombies, it does not have the same panache as beating them on the head with a pool cue in rhythm to Queen's Don't Stop Me Now.
U.S District Attorney Mary Beth Buchanan will retry Dr. Cyril Wecht. Wecht's first trial ended in a hung jury. Why is the District Attorney wasting her time with this?
Personally:
I had a girl date on Saturday. I met a new friend for dinner and to see a band play 70's and 80's AM radio covers.
While the evening started out innocuously enough I'm not sure whether I'll hang out with her again. During the course of the evening she announced that she was a pothead, alternately grilled and lectured me on my childlessness and pressured me about my conservative drinking habits.
FYI - Most disgusting email subject in my Spam folder to date: “Used g-strings for sale”. Uh, no thanks.
Hockey:
The Penguins are now 3-0 in Playoff Round 1 and looking towards wrapping up the best of seven series in Ottawa on Wednesday night. The highlight of the series was Game 1, when 41 year old Gary Roberts challenged two Senators to a fight, had to be forcibly removed from the ice by two linesmen and amassed 16 minutes in penalties with 12 seconds left to play.
The Cult of Gary Roberts is strong in Pittsburgh.
Well known Rangers pest Sean Avery inspires a new interpretation on rules about screening the opposing goalie, nicked named “The Avery Rule”. Points to Avery for creativity.
Locally:
Rumor has it that the explosion that destroyed two houses in the North Side was not caused by natural gas. It is a slow spring in Western Pennsylvania.
H/t and personal to Jay: While I fully acknowledge that a gunshot in the head is the most effective way to dispatch meteorite zombies, it does not have the same panache as beating them on the head with a pool cue in rhythm to Queen's Don't Stop Me Now.
U.S District Attorney Mary Beth Buchanan will retry Dr. Cyril Wecht. Wecht's first trial ended in a hung jury. Why is the District Attorney wasting her time with this?
Personally:
I had a girl date on Saturday. I met a new friend for dinner and to see a band play 70's and 80's AM radio covers.
While the evening started out innocuously enough I'm not sure whether I'll hang out with her again. During the course of the evening she announced that she was a pothead, alternately grilled and lectured me on my childlessness and pressured me about my conservative drinking habits.
FYI - Most disgusting email subject in my Spam folder to date: “Used g-strings for sale”. Uh, no thanks.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Monday, April 07, 2008
Harm's Way
As promised, some of the mural seen on Saturday while walking through Oakland.
And a little bit of fun:
And a little bit of fun:
Sunday, April 06, 2008
Saturday
J and I went for a walk yesterday. Although still chilly, the air was too fresh, the sun too sunny, to remain inside with a clear conscience.
But first we decided to go for a little drive. To a friend's house to drop off our first payment for playoff tickets and a Jordan Staal bobble head doll. Then to a used car dealership, to take a look at a 1999 Porsche Boxster that caught J's eye earlier in the week.
We walked into a nearly empty showroom, the majority of the staff gathered around a desk talking. The salesman who rose to greet us was an older man, nicely dressed in a well pressed polo shirt and crisp pants. On first impression, he appeared to be the standard equivalent of the modern day used car salesmen.
Upon further interaction, we learned that this man was the sales equivalent of the anti-Christ, coming on smooth and sophisticated while simultaneously attempting to sow discord. His technique consisted of the full press hard sell with a combination of insults, flattery and transparent attempts to play J and I off against each other.
I did the only thing that I could under this assault. I played the dim, whiny and much beloved wife.
I snuggled up to J and carefully fixed the collar on his coat and the scarf around his neck. When the salesman asked me what it would take for me to “let” J have the car, I said he would have to teach me how to drive it, then complained that he had not taught me how to drive his Miata. Sensing an opening, the salesman asked if J intended to teach me to drive. J said “no”.
While J talked engines and spark plugs I went over the car, opening every possible door, sitting in the passenger's seat, running my hands across the body and frame and peering into the two trunks. My inspection of the car (which was in excellent shape) made the sales guy uncomfortable to the point that he started closing trunk lids and doors and moving both of us away from the vehicle, into his office for further discussion.
In the office, the salesman returned to J's refusal to teach me to drive. He said HE could teach me in fifteen minutes, he had a guaranteed system. J tried to contain his laughter as I enthusiastically thanked him for his offer. As the conversation turned to finances, we learned that we could not get an estimated payment unless we agreed to buy the car.
After much coaching, J was able to convince the salesman to write down some rough numbers. As we were leaving, I was asked if I thought J would purchase. Still in character, I smiled sweetly and told the man that since J had “let” me buy the car I wanted, I certainly was not going to stop him from purchasing the Boxster, but that the decision was ultimately his. We shook hands and left the showroom.
Off to Oakland we went, for a walk around the urban neighborhood, with several stops to take photographs of some of the new murals. Pictures coming soon.
But first we decided to go for a little drive. To a friend's house to drop off our first payment for playoff tickets and a Jordan Staal bobble head doll. Then to a used car dealership, to take a look at a 1999 Porsche Boxster that caught J's eye earlier in the week.
We walked into a nearly empty showroom, the majority of the staff gathered around a desk talking. The salesman who rose to greet us was an older man, nicely dressed in a well pressed polo shirt and crisp pants. On first impression, he appeared to be the standard equivalent of the modern day used car salesmen.
Upon further interaction, we learned that this man was the sales equivalent of the anti-Christ, coming on smooth and sophisticated while simultaneously attempting to sow discord. His technique consisted of the full press hard sell with a combination of insults, flattery and transparent attempts to play J and I off against each other.
I did the only thing that I could under this assault. I played the dim, whiny and much beloved wife.
I snuggled up to J and carefully fixed the collar on his coat and the scarf around his neck. When the salesman asked me what it would take for me to “let” J have the car, I said he would have to teach me how to drive it, then complained that he had not taught me how to drive his Miata. Sensing an opening, the salesman asked if J intended to teach me to drive. J said “no”.
While J talked engines and spark plugs I went over the car, opening every possible door, sitting in the passenger's seat, running my hands across the body and frame and peering into the two trunks. My inspection of the car (which was in excellent shape) made the sales guy uncomfortable to the point that he started closing trunk lids and doors and moving both of us away from the vehicle, into his office for further discussion.
In the office, the salesman returned to J's refusal to teach me to drive. He said HE could teach me in fifteen minutes, he had a guaranteed system. J tried to contain his laughter as I enthusiastically thanked him for his offer. As the conversation turned to finances, we learned that we could not get an estimated payment unless we agreed to buy the car.
After much coaching, J was able to convince the salesman to write down some rough numbers. As we were leaving, I was asked if I thought J would purchase. Still in character, I smiled sweetly and told the man that since J had “let” me buy the car I wanted, I certainly was not going to stop him from purchasing the Boxster, but that the decision was ultimately his. We shook hands and left the showroom.
Off to Oakland we went, for a walk around the urban neighborhood, with several stops to take photographs of some of the new murals. Pictures coming soon.
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
Mercyhurst Does Me Proud*
My Alma mater, Mercyhurst, made the Post Gazette today for doing something radical.
At the request of the Student Government, college officials invited all three Presidential candidates to speak to the student population and surrounding community. Hilary Clinton is the first candidate to accept the invitation and will speak on campus this evening.
What makes this invitation “radical” is that two of the three Presidential candidates (Clinton and Obama) are pro-choice. Inviting them to speak on the grounds of a Catholic institution in the Diocese of Erie runs counter to diocese's “pro-life**” policy
Bishop Trautman announced that he would not be attending Mercyhurst's graduation ceremonies in protest. In what can only be described as a veiled threat, the Bishop stated “I am open with to meeting with [college President] Dr. Gamble in the future to ascertain how the Catholic identity of Mercyhurst can be better clarified”.
Translation: I will be meeting with Dr. Gamble and giving him a definitive smack down for daring to subvert the authority of the Church. If he steps out of line again, his tenure as college President will be short and swift.
Dear Bishop Trautman – the day your representatives stop referring to Gannon University as “THE Catholic college of the Diocese of Erie” and actually pay more than lip service in support of any Catholic grade, middle or high school outside the county of Erie is the day that I will consider giving you the benefit of the doubt. You are one of the key reasons I no longer set foot in a Catholic church, except under duress***.
Dr. Gamble, to his credit, refused to rescind the invitation, maintaining that it was extended to all candidates in accordance with a long standing policy of not supporting or opposing any political candidate, and in protection of the college's non-profit status.
I'm pretty certain how this little standoff will play out, and it will not be in the favor of academic freedom or intelligent discourse, to the detriment of the students. Mercyhurst will be forced to put into a place a policy that effectively prevents any candidate from speaking on campus. To protect their non-profit status.
Email link here if you feel like throwing a little bit of love Dr. Gamble's way. Be sure to choose the Thomas Gamble whose department is President.
*All apologies for the deliberate bad grammar.
**Only as far as abortion and contraception go. If you are pro-war, pro-death penalty, pro-corporate welfare, (enter your pro that really is an anti here), you get a pass from the diocese.
***Duress, in this case, means I will attend mass when not attending would only create more trouble.
At the request of the Student Government, college officials invited all three Presidential candidates to speak to the student population and surrounding community. Hilary Clinton is the first candidate to accept the invitation and will speak on campus this evening.
What makes this invitation “radical” is that two of the three Presidential candidates (Clinton and Obama) are pro-choice. Inviting them to speak on the grounds of a Catholic institution in the Diocese of Erie runs counter to diocese's “pro-life**” policy
Bishop Trautman announced that he would not be attending Mercyhurst's graduation ceremonies in protest. In what can only be described as a veiled threat, the Bishop stated “I am open with to meeting with [college President] Dr. Gamble in the future to ascertain how the Catholic identity of Mercyhurst can be better clarified”.
Translation: I will be meeting with Dr. Gamble and giving him a definitive smack down for daring to subvert the authority of the Church. If he steps out of line again, his tenure as college President will be short and swift.
Dear Bishop Trautman – the day your representatives stop referring to Gannon University as “THE Catholic college of the Diocese of Erie” and actually pay more than lip service in support of any Catholic grade, middle or high school outside the county of Erie is the day that I will consider giving you the benefit of the doubt. You are one of the key reasons I no longer set foot in a Catholic church, except under duress***.
Dr. Gamble, to his credit, refused to rescind the invitation, maintaining that it was extended to all candidates in accordance with a long standing policy of not supporting or opposing any political candidate, and in protection of the college's non-profit status.
I'm pretty certain how this little standoff will play out, and it will not be in the favor of academic freedom or intelligent discourse, to the detriment of the students. Mercyhurst will be forced to put into a place a policy that effectively prevents any candidate from speaking on campus. To protect their non-profit status.
Email link here if you feel like throwing a little bit of love Dr. Gamble's way. Be sure to choose the Thomas Gamble whose department is President.
*All apologies for the deliberate bad grammar.
**Only as far as abortion and contraception go. If you are pro-war, pro-death penalty, pro-corporate welfare, (enter your pro that really is an anti here)
***Duress, in this case, means I will attend mass when not attending would only create more trouble.
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