Ahh, the Allure of My Hometown

Is the invention of peanut butter hotdogs. I think Palumbo's has created the ultimate All-American junk food. Think they should market them during the All-Star Game? How about Battered Deep Fried Peanut Butter Hotdogs?

Yes, I did grow up there. No, there is not much to do there. The biggest event in the area takes place 20 miles away on February 2, otherwise known as Groundhog Day.

Penguins Fans, Rejoice!

Evgeni Malkin will be joining the team this fall. It will not be enough to keep the Penguins in Pittsburgh, but I'll get to see the team go out on a high note.

F***** Fatigue & Advice From Dear Abby

My morning internet reading routine includes a round-up of advice columns and the comics. Pedestrian, yes, but I am not a morning person and can't handle heavier news items from outlets such as the Washington Post and New York Times until later in the day.

I've also been in serious head-in-sand mode for the last oh, four years, because I cannot stand listening to one more report of the latest atrocity caused directly/indirectly by Commander Cuckoo Bananas and his fearlessly stupid gang of fruity sidekicks. Our country led by a man who has never had to face the consequences of his actions.

I have the same reaction to one of my brother-in-laws who thinks the optimal way to solve Pennsylvania's financial problems is to abolish the property tax, give tax breaks to corporations (other states are doing it!) and raise taxes on everything else. The word "regressive" is not in his vocabulary.

So it is refreshing to become annoyed at the letters published in columns like Dear Abby.

Today it was a woman who wanted to know if her daughter was legally married in the United States (wedding was held in Mexico) because of a delay in changing her name. The daughter had explained that she was waiting on a translated copy of her marriage certificate and that Spanish version was not valid in the United States.

Abby, ever the professional, reassured the mother that marriage was legal.

My question is why is this any of the mother's business? And why, if the question is about the legality of her daughter's marriage, is she so hung up on the state of her daughter's last name?

My crap-meter has been in overdrive lately.

Updates

Update I

My dad's surgery has been moved up to July 11th. I am taking the day off to hang out with my mother. Thank you for all your prayers, feverish and otherwise. My mom is nervous about the surgery, but it is sooner and my dad will get well.

Update II

"She Who Will Not Be Named" has a new book out. You all know who I am talking about. The book is, of course, an utter waste of trees. Tony Norman of the Pittsburgh Post- Gazette has an interesting idea on how to claim the identity of "Christian" from those whole stole it and the best spot-on description of "She Who Will Not be Named", to wit:

"Because her blond mane and feral eyes give her an uncanny resemblance to all four horses of the Apocalypse.."

Moving on now...

Update III

Also in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette this morning was a short article titled Pa. may lift ban on wine shipments.

The Commonwealth of Pennsylvania has particularly restrictive blue laws. Wine and liquor can be purchased via a state store, beer only from a licensed bar or beer distributor. Wine can also be purchased directly from vineyards and wine stores and shipped from in-state vineyards directly to a consumer's home.

When the Supreme Court ruled that in-state and out-state wineries could not be treated differently, the PLCB attempted to ban in-state shipments, and were promptly slapped with a restraining order so shipments could continue while the commonwealth studied the situation.

Governor Rendell is developing a bill to permit out-of-state shipments of wine. There is a catch, however. Wineries would not longer be permitted to sell directly to restaurants, and all shipments would be taxed at 18%.

The 18% tax provision is a holdover from the Johnstown flood and needs to be abolished. Forbidding wineries to sell to restaurants is stupid and indicates that the Governor is not interested changing the law, but in making people think that he will do something about the situation.

PSA Part II

...in which karma turns me from fashion judge to fashion victim.

Yesterday, while riding the bus home, I was chastised by a strange woman who did not approve of my shirt. Strange Woman did not direct her comments towards me, but at the air surrounding our seat as she sat down. To quote “Great! Nice to expose your big breasts and belly so everyone can see them”.

I raised my head from out of my book and looked around the bus. It was the usual mix of 5:30pm commuters. No one was dressed outrageously. I looked out the windows of the bus. I did not see any fashion victims on the street, or any half-naked women.

I lowered my head back into my book and was about to dismiss her comment as the sort of random thing I hear when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw her raise her hand and block the right side of her face. As if she was blocking me out of her periphal vision.

She held her hand to her face for several minutes, then proceeded to rummage through her purse, sigh loudly and mutter underneath her breath until the bus reached my stop. I smiled, sweetly asked her to let me out of the seat, and got off.

I was wearing a perfectly respectible shirt. It was linen. It had flowers embroidered on the front and back. It was a sleeveless v-neck with a collar. It was pink! It passed the mirror test!

The only way anyone would have been able to see down it is if they were 1. Taller than me and 2. Standing directly above me and deliberately looking down. Which, because I was sitting and she was standing, is the only way she could have seen down my shirt.

I've moved well beyond being offended by the offhand comments and strange behaviors of fellow public transit riders. Occasionally I am irritated by stupid behavior , normally I simply amused at how little it takes to annoy people.

Bradley's Book Cellar

The downtown branch of Bradley's, an independent book seller, closed sometime in the past month. I'm ashamed to admit that I don't know quite when, as I have been insanely busy between work and my current family crisis.

But closed it is, as the building that housed the store is being torn down (along with most of the block) to make way for a new development by PNC Financial Services Group. The owner searched for another space, but the sudden interest in redeveloping downtown Pittsburgh limited his options, and he was left with no choice but to distribute his stock between locations in Kaufmann's, Station Square and the Strip.

Bradley's was one of my favorite after-work haunts. To reach the store you had to walk down a set of stairs into a cellar, into a large, brightly light, musty smelling room. It was packed from front to back with shelves selling everything from remaindered hardbacks to de-accessed library books. The stock was standard fiction, non-fiction, books-on-tape and magazines that you could find at any big box retailer. The difference was the eclectic selection of material and cheap prices.

What made this Bradley's truly special was the reader's proofs. For less than $5.00 I could pick up a galley proof of a current bestseller. The downtown store was the only place in Pittsburgh I could find them.

The downtown Kaufmann's location is still open (sans cheap reader's proofs), but for how long is still up in the air. Kaufmann's is now Macy's in everything but name (which will be changed soon) and there is a distinct possibility the store will be closed.

A Public Service Announcement

Ladies, please! If your white pants are so thin that you must go without panties to wear them, then they are too thin to wear in public. I saw more revealed today from one woman in white pants then in 2+ years in my gym's locker room. That is a very BAD THING.

And DON'T tell me that you can't find panties. A thong, seamless bikini or brief in a color that closely matches your skin tone cannot be seen. Wear bright blue granny pants and call it a fashion statement for all I care, as long as I never have to see any woman's pubic hair through their pants ever again.

This Cannot be Happening

I am past the tears and entering phase pissed at this point.

I called Mom today to let her know that we were coming down late tonight for the wedding shower tomorrow. After some needless discussion over where J and I would be sleeping (the house will be full, we will have to take a couch) she told me about their trip to see the surgeon yesterday and the tenative dates for surgery.

Dad is having a procedure called a da Vinci Prostatectomy. It is done by a surgeon via Robotic Hands. Pretty cool once you get past the fact it is being done on a family member.

The date the surgeon is attempting to schedule is July 18th.
The alternate, more likely, date is July 25th.

I think my head might explode.

Whoops

We have two cars. The first is J’s, a 1992 Mazda Miata with a manual transmission. He only drives it in good weather because the odometer is pushing 160,000 miles and the roof needs replaced. He has been talking about replacing lately and everytime the conversation comes up I point out that it is paid off, the insurance is a pittance and I am paying the bill. Then I ask him to wait until we get the second car paid off.

We share a Volvo S40. I love, love, love this car. It is my dream vehicle. It has a sunroof and heated seats. We purchased it used a year ago and have had very little trouble with it.

Earlier this week I handed the registration renewal and a check for $36.00 to J. His task was simple: fill out the odometer reading and insurance information (since it is in the car and he is driving it to work everyday) and put it in the mail.

Yesterday's morning conversation:

Me: Did you mail the registration?
J: Yes.
Me: Did you fill out the insurance and odometer reading?

-- Silence

J: Oh, shit.

So busy was J, while at the Post Office, making sure that all the mail had the correct postage he forgot to fill out the renewal form. Instead he stamped, sealed and mailed without a second thought.

This weekend I will renew the registration online and pay an additional $36.00 for the privilege. I hold out little hope of getting the first check back and am certain that this will not be the end. Because it is the DMV.

Three Rivers Arts Festival

This is an excellent year to be a resident of the city during the Three Rivers Arts Festival. A partial lineup of performers includes: (the heavenly, divine) Raul Malo, Buckwheat Zydeco, Mason Jennings, Gov't Mule, eels, Alejandro Escovedo, The Tragically Hip and Roseanne Cash. All of the performances are free.

And there is all the art, sculptures and junk for sale in the Artist's Market, performances in the downtown galleries and theatres and street performers.

Unfortunately, I will not be able to see Raul Malo or Buckwheat Zydeco. My work schedule has been beyond weird the past two weeks, with multiple starts and stoppages in testing. This weekend includes a Saturday bridal shower and a full day of work on Sunday.

I am disappointed that I will not have the opportunity to see Raul Malo. I saw him ten years ago in Greensboro when he was the lead singer of the Mavericks and have been swooning over him ever since.

Oh Dear

Highcourt Trims Whistleblower Rights

No comment necessary on this one.

Small Annoyances

There is a billboard we pass on the way to J's parents house. It is mounted outside a Catholic cemetery and usually displays a conservative religious message. Normally I don't pay much attention to it, except as another sign that clutters the landscape.

The billboard's latest message has made me uneasy. It shows a young woman dressed as a bride in the foreground, with her groom gazing at her with adoration in the misty background. The text reads "Marriage...God's answer to safe sex".

Why is the (female) bride clearly seen in the foreground while the (male) groom is obscured?

Quick Updates

Update 1: My dad got the results of his CAT and Bone scan back. No cancer. Completely localized to the Prostate. There was some concern, since his Gleason was a 7, that it had spread to other parts of his body. Surgery is upcoming.

Update 2: The dates of my Paris trip are Friday, July 21 to Sunday, July 30. Shortly after booking the flight I discovered that the Tour de France ends on July 23. So my apathetic search for a digital camera has turned into a full blown effort. Recommendations are welcome. The camera must be Macintosh OS 10.4 compatible, small and easy to operate. A good zoom and high pixel rate are also a priority. Alas, since I blew a large sum on the plane tickets, a Digital SLR is out of my reach right now, unless I can con someone into selling me one at a steep, steep discount. I see a trip to the Sony Outlet store in Grove City in the near future, as they sell tons of refurbished equipment. Our television, clocks and two of J's mp3 players have come from that store.

Decisions

I put in my time-off request for the week that J will be remodeling our only bathroom. We agreed several months ago that my presence in the house was a bad idea since all the fixtures, including the ugly 1940's cast iron tub, are coming out.

Part of the reason is that we do not work well together on house stuff. He yells, I cry, a fight ensues. The other reason is that my two months of sickness was caused by the flu and the amount of dust and mold kicked up when he started removing tile from the walls and floor earlier this year.

And he is a guy. His bathroom needs can be satisfied by the shower hookup in the basement and a bucket. I demand the luxury of a working toilet.

I am going to Paris for eight days.

Purchasing a plane ticket was a shock. My ticket cost $1,251.11, which is roughly 2.5 times more than they were the last time I was on a plane. And it was one of the least expensive flights I could find, anywhere. I'm still shocked that I managed to reason myself into paying that much money for a plane ticket. And I'm utterly convinced that a week from now, they will be cheaper, because Commander Cuckoo Bananas will have managed to sneak Halliburton into the Artic Refuge.

But I'm going back to a city I love by myself for eight days. I found a nice hotel via Charming Hotels in Paris*. I have a backup plan in case the place is already booked. I've been there before, so I know how to navigate the Metro and the city streets.

My in-laws are not happy about this. The bathroom remodeling is scheduled for the same week that most of J's family will be in Hilton Head. They invited me to come with them while J works on the house. I politely turned down their invitation, since past history has demonstrated that a root canal is more pleasant than traveling with his family.

There is a general feeling from both families that I am pushing the envelope of good taste and proper behavior for a married woman. I did not take J's last name, exclusive responsibility for the household chores or start having children right away, so I'm considered a little off the beat. Traveling to a foreign country while J works at home is not going over well. It is not proper for a married woman to travel without her spouse. If she must, then it should either be with family or to visit family.

Chaperoned, in other words.

*Hotel Quai Voltaire was one of the available hotels, but it was out of my price range. As was a lovely student dive near the Sorbonne and a third place in the Latin Quarter. So I'm staying near the Embassies, which should make my second attempt to visit the Baccarat Musuem a little easier.

I'm It!

Cool! Thanks Lisa!

I AM the rebel daughter-in-law.
I WANT to go to back to Paris.
I WISH I could walk the fine line between assertive and bitchy successfully.
I MISS the sound of the ocean.
I HEAR the birds singing in the morning.
I WONDER what life would be like if Bush had not been "elected".
I REGRET moving back to my hometown for three years. I'll never get those years back.
I AM NOT easy to live with. But I've been told that I'm quite entertaining.
I DANCE out of rhythm.
I AM NOT ALWAYS as shy as I seem.
I MAKE WITH MY HANDS Christmas ornaments. Elaborate, cross-stiched Christmas ornaments.
I WRITE to stay sane.
I CONFUSE directions.
I NEED to accept help more often.
I SHOULD be bolder.
I START too many books at once.
I FINISH dessert, always.

I DON'T know who to tag!

A Mid-Week Day Off

My day started with cleaning up after Wigford, the cat who is afraid of everything. Apparently "everything" includes throwing up breakfast. Unlike the other two kitties, Wigford is not prone to hairballs, so he was bewildered by the sudden histrionics of his stomach. I tucked the comforter around his huddled form and left him to sleep it off on the bed.

I need to take all three to the vet anyway. Their shots are overdue...

My first stop was Joseph Beth Booksellers. Joseph Beth Booksellers is modeled after common "big box" stores with cooler stuff, an enormous stock from independent publishers and a great atmosphere. Pittsburgh is one of five smaller market cities with a store.

After a wander through the store I treated myself to:

Anthony Bourdain's The Nasty Bits

and

A groovy little map of Paris from Mapgroup International, called an InsideOut City Guide. The guide comes with popout maps, a compass in the spine and a little pen that lights up. As an additional bonus, the ISBN/price tag peels off the back.

The best part of the store is the staff. I spotted the InsideOut maps in the travel section but did not see one for Paris. One of the members of the staff looked it up, went downstairs, retrieved the box from the latest shipment, came back upstairs and gave the map to me. The man at the checkout told me to have a nice trip. I did not have the heart to tell him that I was not going anywhere.

Reasons to Love Crazy Mocha

Crazy Mocha is a chain of local coffee shops in Pittsburgh. They have locations throughout the city, in Bloomfield, Lawrenceville, the South Side, Oakland, the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh (how cool is that!) and Shadyside.

The décor is bright, the drinks are cheap and the desserts beyond yummy. The South Side location routinely makes slices of cheesecakes from the Cheesecake Factory up the street available along with the rest of the dessert rotation. They also serve vegetarian sandwiches and giant cookies.

Those are all good things that most successful coffee shops possess. But Crazy Mocha has a few extras that put them over the top.

1. A shop in the Main Branch of the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh. Seriously, how cool is that? Credit has to be given to CLP for not only putting a coffee shop in the first floor but choosing a local outfit over a national chain such as Starbucks or Caribou Coffee. Nothing against either chain, since I spend so much time in the Starbucks near my office that they actually have my order ready when I walk through the door.
   
2. They support other local businesses. One of the most successful is Dreaming Ant, a DVD rental store run out of the back of the Bloomfield location of Crazy Mocha.
3. Free wireless access at all of their locations.
4. Free access to computers for surfing at their South Side location.
5. No Fox News on their televisions. That alone makes them worth my patronage. Fox News is ubiquitous in Pittsburgh. It is especially painful to have to listen to them at my gym. Although I usually get angry enough by the massive stupidity of the anchors to motivate me through the rest of my workout.

As a bonus, a very nice older gentleman paid me a compliment while I was ordering a piece of chocolate cake. He said that it was nice to see a girl who liked to eat and was not always on a diet.

I'm not going to make it for the haircut or the new driver's license. I'll save it for another day.

Free Day!

Wednesday is a comp day for working the past two Saturdays. I should have two days, but I forgot to negotiate for the first Saturday, so I lost out on that.

I plan to sleep late, get my hair cut, renew my driver's license (including photo), go to the gym and spend two hours at Crazy Mocha drinking tea and taking advantage of the free wireless.

Bliss.

Blessings

In all of the sudden chaos, I forgot that there was good news this week.

Many years ago, at the encouragement of a friend, I wrote a children's story about our cat Axel as a Christmas gift for J. My original intent was to illustrate the book, but I am not good at drawing animals or people. The project was left unfinished, with the text following me through three computers (and three homes as well).

My friend got back in touch with me recently and asked what happened to the project. I told him about my lack of skill and we discussed searching for an art student who might be willing to do drawings on specification for a portfolio.

Through a series of circumstances B has found a graphic artist who may be interested in creating some illustrations and knows a publisher of children's books.

I think the deities are trying to tell me something.

Bad News

I was going to write about Graydon Carter, who put a name, via this month's Letter to the Editor in Vanity Fair, to what I was feeling all day Sunday and Monday of this week. That is "fuckup fatigue", a phrase he attributed to Bill Maher.

But I just talked to my parents. My dad was diagnosed with Stage II Prostate cancer today. He has to have more tests, including a bone scan, to make sure the cells are not lurking elsewhere. He will have surgery by the end of month.

I'm so tired.

I Am Weary (Let Me Rest)

I am weary.

Yesterday's family breakfast was awful.

J and I went to his parents for breakfast. His parents live roughly 40 minutes away, so we were up and on the road early to make it by the appointed time of 10:00 am. Getting out of bed was not easy, as I spent the majority of my Saturday at work.

Breakfast was in honor of J's cousin, a lovely and smart young woman who is leaving shortly to study Chinese in Taiwan for two months. It may be the last time we see her until Christmas, as she will return long enough to wash her clothes before going on a semester abroad in Poland.

J and I don't share the same political views as most of his family. We normally take the path of least resistance and keep our mouths shut as we want family gatherings to be civilized. I have broken this rule twice, both times in an effort to bring civility back to the room.

I don't think I will be doing that anymore. Not if I have to endure the following:

• Negative remarks about other faiths. (Hello? Did you forget that I come from a mixed religious household? Did you forget that I had to listen to that crap for years from my father's relatives?)
• J's aunt warning his cousin not to bring home a Chinese boyfriend.
• J's aunt (again) making the comment that it was ok for a white couple to adopt a child from a different race, but it was not ok for two people from different races to get married.
• The majority of J's family dismissing the comments as a "generational thing".
• The self-congratulatory, smug tone that most of his family took when discussing how not racist they are. Coming out of the mouths of people who have never gone to school, sat next to or worked with someone who was a race other than white? After making the joke "What do you get when you get two black men together? Trouble".
  

I asked J to leave. He refused. I walked outside and sat on the porch until most of the guests left. I went to the Flea Market with J and his father. Finally, at 2:00 pm, two hours after I initially asked, we left for home.

Today I stewed. Angry at his family for being so awful. Angry at myself for taking the easy way out under the explanation that I was trying to keep the peace. Angry at J for not respecting my desire to remove myself from the situation.

J stewed also, for the same reasons. Angry that his older brother had turned into fuckwad. Angry that he did not speak up. Angry because I was so upset.

I am weary.

Edwin McCain and Idiot Me

In my continuing quest to find interesting things to do in Pittsburgh I dragged J to the Rex Theater last night to watch Edwin McCain play. We were joined by our friends JW and K.

The Rex is a former movie palace. The lobby is tiny with a shabby bar on one side of the room, a grand piano in a corner and well executed murals on all the walls. The bathrooms are also decorated with murals of James Dean (for the men) and Marilyn Monroe (for the women).

The current owners ripped out the seats, left the old material on the walls, screwed multicolored lightbulbs into the sconces and called it a day. There is a second, badly built bar (serving cheap beer, and only cheap beer) under the balcony stairs. A sound booth is located in the opposite corner. I've seen better built setups at rock concerts. This venue was not designed to impress.

Except that the acoustics are quite good and the balcony is a popular place to hang out while watching a show. People don't seem to mind the sticky floor, dirty white folding chairs and the tallshakyey wooden bar tables.

Edwin McCain was fantastic. Funny, sarcastic and full of energy. One of the members of the band opened the show. I liked his songs enough to blow $15.00 on a self produced CD. JW pointed out the copyright date (2000) with the comment "I give the guy credit. He keeps trying".

After the performance, "Security" shooed us out into the lobby since we did not have "Aftershow" passes. Since the doors between the theater and the lobby are made of glass, I was content to watch Edwin meet "Aftershow" fans and have pictures taken. I was staring off into space when one of the fans walked out into the lobby, slapped a pass onto my shirt and said "Here. Go meet him". A second person gave K her pass.

An aside: Past history has shown that I turn into a total idiot when meeting someone who is
A. Seriously Famous or
B. Famous-to-me and Highly Respected.

For example: In 1992, shortly before Tip O'Neill passed away, my family saw him in a steakhouse on Cape Cod. My mother, not normally given to fits of hysteria, was over the moon at the thought she was eating in the same room as the former Speaker of the House of Representatives.

Mom watched O'Neill like a hawk. When the man rose to leave the restaurant, my mother followed him out into the lobby. Not one to miss an opportunity to watch a parent make an idiot of herself, I went with her.

And made an idiot out of myself. My mother was poised, calm and charming. She thanked him for his service to the United States and shook his hand. He asked if we were sisters and shook my hand. In the presence of greatness so close, I babbled like an idiot.

Forward to last night. I stand with two Aftershow passes in my hand (K handed hers to me). K and J are urging me to go inside and meet him. K is handing me her cell phone so I can get a picture taken. My feet are frozen to the floor.

JW comes back and I hand him the second pass. We wander inside. The crew chases us away from the stage (they were tearing down) and we wait. No Edwin McCain. Thinking that we have missed our opportunity, we go back out to the lobby.

Edwin McCain comes back inside. He has been out near the tour bus signing autographs. JW and I go back in and I, in a polite, tiny voice, ask him if he would not mind one more picture.

He says yes. He smiles. His tone is friendly. I am terrified. He puts one arm around me and we poise for a photo. His back is sweaty from playing. The tips of his fingers brush the back of my shirt.

The damn camera phone doesn't work.

I smile at him. Shrug my shoulders. Say thanks in a barely audible voice and flee. My record as an idiot unbroken.

In other news, A flash mob invades Best Buy.

Read some of the other entries. I think my favorite is the McDonald's Bathroom Attendant stunt.

Fascinating

Transportation Security Administration screeners have their own website.

Bad Daughter

NOTICE: This is a whine. Bypass if you are not in the mood.

I received an overdose of maternal guilt and disapproval last night. It, compounded by the pressure to complete a lot of work in a short period of time and the scant selection of my favorite genre of frivolous novels at CLP has left me in a cranky, cranky mood.

I am a bad daughter right now because I dared to voice the idea that I would probably not attend the second of two wedding showers in honor of my future sister-in-law.

Before I go further into revealing what an awful person I am, I like K. She makes my younger brother, who I adore, glow with happiness. Her biggest flaw is that she is a little right wing-ish, but so is my brother. Since she makes him very happy, I'm willing to overlook the flaw.

The first shower is being hosted by my mother in my hometown, ostensibly because there are a lot of people reluctant to travel the 1.25 hours to the location of the second fiesta. I am happily driving the 2.5 hours to make it to this event, which is being held early on a Saturday afternoon.

The second is being hosted by K's friends and family, approximately 4 hours from Pittsburgh (and 1.25 hours from my parents house). The date has changed and the new day is on a Sunday, in the mid-afternoon, on a weekend in which I already have plans involving a considerable amount of driving.

Mom's reasoning is that since both of her sisters are driving the 4+ hours to attend K's first shower, then I have no reason for missing her second one. The irony that she is hosting the first event because people are reluctant to travel 1.25 hours is lost on her. So is the fact that both of her sisters would have a shorter drive if they attended the second one.

I don't know what it is about weddings that make normally sane people (like my mother) turn into lunatics. I hoped to be excluded from crazy behavior this time around, since I was the target six years ago when I got married. When I learned that my role in the wedding would be limited to doing a reading, I was thrilled. No bridesmaid duties, no bridesmaid dress (which is pretty, just not on me), no obligation to decorate the church or reception hall. The only thing I had to do was buy an outrageously expensive gift and have a good time.

Until I met the disapproving silence of my mother on the phone last night. Never mind that I have the full force of Miss Manners, Dear Prudence and Emily Post behind me on this one.

If that was not enough, the mother-in-law called an hour later, requesting our presence at Sunday breakfast, with a huge side of maternal guilt.

I Heart Stephen Colbert

The White House Correspondent Dinner heats up. Colbert Lampoons Bush courtsey of Editor and Publisher.

Construction Junction & Art All Night

Saturday turned out to be a very busy day.

Our first stop was Construction Junction. Construction Junction is a non-profit organization that sells used and surplus construction materials: drywall, tile, paint, cabinets, sinks, toilets, doors, windows, architectural salvage, shingles, vinyl siding, brick, slate... If it can be used to build a house, this organization probably has it, right down to doorknobs, hinges, nails and screws.

• Want an old-fashioned cast iron clawfoot tub? There are four of varying sizes for sale.
• Like those old sinks with the separate hot & cold spigots? Construction Junction has just the sink for you.
• Need a new stone fireplace and mantel? There are two complete layouts for sale! Prefer wood instead of stone? Check out one of the salvaged pieces, some of them even with inlayed mirrors.
  

J and I have been hunting for a new bathroom sink, and found several that will suit our needs. We also got ideas for remodeling our evil kitchen, but the bathroom is first since A. He has ripped out most of the ugly wall tile and B. We hate it more.

And now we know where to take all the left-over materials.

In the evening hours we attended Art All Night, Lawrenceville's annual exhibition of local amateur and professional artists. Anyone is welcome to come and enter one piece into the exhibit. Videos, photographs, sculpture, paintings, collages, found objects and kid's pictures are all encouraged. A lot of the work is for sale.

Art all Night is not a juried art show but a celebration of the artist in all of us. The work runs from mundane to brilliant.

Each year the organizers find an unused warehouse to mount the exhibit. This year it was a three story loft space, with family-friendly exhibits on the first floor and adult material on the second and third floors.

We went early, around 9pm and the place was inundated with people. As always, the children's art was beyond cute. I fell in love with a little lithograph print. For a grand total of $9.00 I could have made the young artist's night. I wish I had purchased it but, as in prior years, I did not bring enough cash with me.

This is on purpose, as I see so much at this show every year that I want to take home and hang on the walls. The problem is that I have a ton of stuff that needs framed, so J has called a stop to my art purchases until I take care of what I have.

Specifically he wants me to frame my grandmother's cards. My grandmother, Kay Logan, was a watercolor artist. She started painting late in her life, after her six kids had grown and left the house.

When I was kid, she would paint cards for birthdays, Halloween and Valentine's Day. I still have most of the cards she made me, carefully wrapped in acid free plastic for the day when I have enough money to get them professionally framed.

She also made sure that I had a good education in the arts and encouraged my experiments in drawing and painting. She is the reason I got to see most of the major art museums in New York City. She is the reason I buy paintings when we travel. I will never reach her level of talent, but at least I got the chance to see the world through her eyes.

My grandmother died at the age of 83 on September 30, 2002. While cleaning out her house, by mother and her siblings found stacks of unframed paintings, watercolor sketches and framing materials. The framing materials went to the local art collective. The paintings and sketches were divided up into six piles. From that pile my mother allowed me to select one painting and some sketches, which hang in our dining room.

My mother said that my grandmother was a hard woman. Trapped by society's expectations of what a woman was supposed to do, she thought (as do I) that she was frustrated by the limitations imposed on her. Once her children were grown she was able to break out of those constraints, and became a much more loving and gentle person.

If you come across a painting at the local flea market, check out the signature in the lower right hand corner. Look for a delicate K. Logan. Let me know what you think of it, if you find one.

Shackles

A truly outstanding letter in the Post-Gazette today about shackling women prisoners during labor and delivery. By "outstanding" I mean so idiotic in its reasoning that the writer, Ann Hartman, should be forced to endure what she has the nerve to suggest.

A little background: Allegheny County's official policy is to shackle, with leg restraints, any prisoner admitted to a hospital or other medical facility. According to the procedural manual, there are no exceptions to the rule.

The consequence of this rule is that pregnant women are handcuffed by one wrist to the bed during labor and delivery. In an interesting observation, it seems that male deputies are more likely to shackle women in labor than female deputies. Once Allegheny County Sheriff Pete DeFazio was notified by the Post-Gazette, he ordered a halt to the practice.

Enter Ann Hartman.

To quote from her letter: "As a woman who has given birth, I do not think the shackles should restrict movement, but that can be accomplished by loosely chaining the wrist to the bedrail".

Really? Then I'm sure she'll be happy to have her wrist "loosely" chained to the bed during her next labor.

Why do women in childbirth deserve this?
Because: "These women have shown disrespect for the law and societal values".

Umm, Ann? You know for a fact that all of women have been tried and convicted of the crimes they are being held for? I know that this may be a foreign notion, but some people are unable to meet a condition called bail and have to remain in prison until their trial.

Oh, and there is an annoying little document known in more literate circles as the Constitution? You might want to go back and review the Eighth Amendment. Shackling a woman in labor to a bed rail strikes me as being a touch too cruel and unusual. I acknowledge that our current leadership does not set much store by the Constitution, since they are so busy creating their own realities. It is logical to think that if the current president believes it is ok to hold people in gulags indefinitely without trial, then shackling a woman in labor is a minor offense.

Wow. If that is not a textbook case example of punishing a child for the sins of the mother, I'm not sure what would be an adequate example.

I bet she identifies as a pro-life conservative. Something about the parting shot she took at the ACLU and Amnesty International for not protecting "those whose lives are potentially in jeopardy when handling prisoners" makes me wonder.

Today's Roundup

In which I tackle some of the thoughts that have been bouncing in my brain for the past week.

Bob Smizik Makes me Crazy

And not in a good, warm-fuzzy sort of way. He wrote two columns on Penguins fans last week that made me want to throw my computer across the room.

The first column was a condescending, let's pat the little fans of a sucky team on the head, slap in the face. He found the idea of fan loyalty to the Penguins mystifying, simply because we insist on attending games long after Pirates and Steelers fans would have taken their ball caps and terrible towels and headed for the exits.

Umm, if I recall, the Boston Red Sox and the Chicago Cubs are not traditionally banner teams. Yet I could not find two seats in Wrigley Field to save my life. You might want to rethink your logic.

The second column was a condescending, don't worry little fans, you'll get your multi-purpose arena lecture. So Bob, let us go over this one more time.

• Ed Rendell accepts $150,000 in campaign contributions from Forest City Enterprises. Dan Onorato and Bob O'Connor accept a combined $45,000 in contributions from Forest City Enterprises.
• Ed Rendell appoints three of the seven members to the Gaming Control Board.
• Forest City Enterprises partners with Harrah's and applies for the only open slots license in Pittsburgh.
• Ed Rendell puts together a Plan B for funding an arena if the Board decides not to choose the Isle of Capri plan. Plan B calls for a voluntary donation of $7.5 million a year towards a new arena from the organization awarded the license.
• PITG Gaming LLC agrees to contribute $7.5 million a year if awarded the license
• Forest City Enterprises refuses to agree to contribute until the Penguins agree to remain in Pittsburgh. The Penguins cannot agree, as that would be breaking the commitment they made to the Isle of Capri.
• Dan Onorato goes before the Gaming Control Board and tells the board to not allow the need for a new multi-purpose arena to factor in their decision because “the issue has been resolved”. Which is news to 2/3 of the city of Pittsburgh.

Bob, hockey fans are not as stupid as you think we are.

At the Movies

Thank You for Smoking
I like Aaron Eckhart (he is easy on the eyes) so viewing this film over the weekend was not a hardship. It turned out to be a very funny satire on the lobbying industry. William H. Macy (another one of my favorite actors) was pitch perfect. My description can not do it justice. Go see it.

Pride and Prejudice
I watched this film over the weekend as well. Keira Knightley is excellent as Elizabeth Bennet and Matthew Macfadyen is well suited as Darcy.

Unfortunately, the action and plot is compressed, which speeds up the movie to an almost frenetic pace and eliminates most of the Lydia/Wickham subplot. Rent the 1995 BBC version instead. It is a longer, more faithful adaptation. And the bonus is watching Colin Firth give off smoldering looks for five hours.

City Walks Decks

Chronicle Books LLC publishes decks of cards with an illustrated map on one side and info about the walk on the other. There are fifty cards in each deck. Walks are available for the following cities:

• London
• New York
• Paris
• Rome
• San Francisco
• Washington DC

Upcoming decks include:

• Amsterdam
• Boston
• Chicago

I ordered the Paris deck and have been pouring over the little maps. Now I need to find a way to get back to Paris to try the maps.

Ah, But Cost is Relative

The New York Times has an article in Sunday's paper called “Affordable Europe”. Writers panned across Europe collecting tips to assist Americans in saving a few dollars when paying for a hotel, having a bite to eat or attending a cultural event.

Naturally I turned to the list on Paris. And found this puzzling statement: “Museums in Paris are expensive”.

Both J and I were a bit surprised by this statement. Granted, we did not go into too many museums, be we did not find the ones we frequented to be any higher than some of the places we visited in the United States.

In the interest of a fairness I collected the admission costs for some of the major museums, zoos and monuments of New York, Pittsburgh and Paris. Inclusion in the list was based on where I have been or wanted to go, so it is rather biased.

New York:

• Bronx Zoo - $12.00
• Brooklyn Museum of Art - $6.00
• Central Park Zoo - $3.50
• The Frick Collection - $10.00
• Metropolitan Museum of Art - $10.00
• Museum of Modern Art - $10.00
• Three Words: Monet's Water Lilies
• Pierpont Morgan Library - $8.00
• My grandmother took me to the library as a high school student to see an exhibition of water color sketches. It was part of my birthday present in which she took me to all the major art museums in New York.
• Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum - $12.00
• The Statue of Liberty – $11.50 (Ferry)
• Whitney Museum of American Art - $10.00
• I loved the circus diorama.

Pittsburgh:

• Carnegie Museum of Art & Carnegie Museum of Natural History - $10.00
• The Dinosaur Hall is currently undergoing renovations.
• Carnegie Science Center - $14.00
• Children's Museum of Pittsburgh - $8.00
• Fallingwater - $16.00
• Absolutely beautiful building and well worth the price. The grounds are amazing.
• National Aviary - $8.00
• Pittsburgh Zoo & PPG Aquarium - $9.00
• The Andy Warhol Museum - $10.00
• My favorite Pittsburgh museum. I love the silver clouds and the curators mount all sorts of interesting and politically relevant exhibits. Highlights so far have been Without Sanctuary and an exhibit on banned Editorial Cartoons. The exhibition of clown paintings was terrifying.

Paris:

• Arc de Triomphe - $10.00
• We toured the monument during an exhibition of photographs taken in the days leading up to the Liberation of Paris and the return of Charles de Gaulle. It was fascinating to see the same scene taken at the same moment from the perspective of different photographers. The film footage of de Gaulle re-entering the city made me cry.
• Catacombes de Paris - $6.00
• Very, very cool.
• Centre Georges Pompidu - $8.60
• We never made it inside. We got distracted by the fountain, the church and all the people. But the outside was worth the walk.
• Chateau de Versailles - $25.75
• We went to Chartes instead. It was free.
  
• Cite des Sciences et de L'Industrie – La Villette - $9.25
• Museum National D'Histoire Naturelle – Menagerie du Jardin des Plantes (Paris Zoo) - $7.50
• Musee Baccarat - $3.00
• Our attempt to visit this museum was proof that an out-of-date guidebook can be hazardous. Between the time the book was published and our trip the museum moved to a new location, near a set of Middle Eastern embassies. We finally found the place, only to discover that it was closed that day.
• Musee D'Orsay - $8.60
• I was charged the student rate. Yay!
• Musee du Louvre - $10.50
• I actually managed to visit the Louvre without seeing the Mona Lisa. I feel no shame, either.
• Tour Eiffel - $5.00 - $13.25
• Never went up. The line was two hours long and I can think of ten better things to do in Paris on a sunny afternoon than wait in line.

Shirts Off Our Backs Night

Penguins 6, Islanders 1. Fantastic Game.

The boys line up for the National Anthem.

From Left to Right:
Ryan Malone
John LeClair
Rob Scuderi
Konstantin Koltsov
Josef Melichar


At the bench. Our seats were the second row back.



Michel Ouellet comes off the ice.


As in other years, 20 fans are selected from random and come down to the ice to recieve the shirts off the players back. What else can a fan ask for but a sweaty, smelly team jersey?

Sidney Crosby scored his 100th point.

The ultimate awwww moment.
Colby Armstrong gives his sweater to a young fan.


Tomas Surovy.


Marc - Andre Fleury.


Sebastian Caron

Insatiable: Tales from a Life of Delicious Excess

I wanted to like this book. There should not be anything to dislike. Great food, an adventurous and intrepid heroine, a whirlwind tour through the crusine and culture of the past thirty years. It was so tempting.

I hated it. The last book I disliked with this much intensity was Thomas Wolfe's The Bonfire of the Vanities. I stopped reading Wolfe's book three pages from the end because I could not stand the characters.

I had the same visceral reaction to the people in this memoir. The only difference is that I made myself finish the book in the faint hope that it would get better. It did marginally improve in the last fifty pages, but not quite enough to make up for the rest of it.

Cheesy Cat Photo 2 - Wigford (aka Big Red Kitty)

Cheesy Cat Photo 1 - Lucy Snowe

Roundup

Some snippets I found highly entertaining over the past week.

Loretta Nall, candidate for Alabama governor, is my new hero.

Bill Nye the Science Guy seems to have upset those poor fundies.

Electric Football comes out with its latest Super Bowl edition. Did you know there was an Electric Football League in Pittsburgh?

Need some tips on surviving the Rapture?

1. Suggestions from Valley Bible Fellowship of Bakersfield, CA via n00bl33t.com.
2. Amanda Marcotte at Pandagon elaborates.

And this, pardon my language, just pissed me off. Read Bitter Pill, then try to convince me there is not a segment of the population who is actively trying to emulate the Taliban.

Michael Keaton

It is an open secret that many residents are coming to despise the ownership of the Pittsburgh Pirates. A common fantasy is that Major League Baseball will eventually step forward and force McClatchy to sell the team, a la Marge Schott. Until that time, we shake our collective heads in despair and watch fewer games.

Both J and I grew up as Pirates fans. J is actively rooting against the team this year. I have decided that it is just not worth it to attend any more games. I suspect we will go to Altoona Curve games this year instead. A pity, because PNC Park is a fantastic ball park. Nothing quite compares to Outfield Reserved on a sunny afternoon, as long as one has sunblock, a pair of sunglasses and a ball cap.

I was delighted to read Michael Keaton's remarks this afternoon in the Post Gazette. Before throwing out the first pitch, Keaton criticized McClatchy for his cavalier attitude towards Pirates fans.

In contrast to Keaton's remarks about McClatchy's penchant for screwing over the fans, is a second article about the opening of the Montecristo Club at PNC Park. For $4,500 (the cost of a season ticket – 81 games), a fan can access premium cigars, fine wines, top shelf liquors and a buffet of gourmet food. Single game access can be purchased for a mere $70.00 a person. But access is not guaranteed and some nights are already sold out. Naturally Kevin McClatchy attended the opening reception.

I am the last person to argue that a team must have a large payroll in order to be successful. The Penguins have one of the lowest payrolls in the NHL. Despite being dead last in the league, they averaged a 90% capacity this year at Mellon Arena and had one of the highest away team attendance rates. J and I come up with the money every year to buy into a share of season tickets and feel the cost is well worth it. Why? Because the ownership was upfront about the reasons why they gutted the payroll and the ability of their young players. Young and still developing essential skills, it is well worth the cost when they come onto the ice with that competitive spark, even if they lose at the end of the night.

McClatchy has robbed fans of the joy of competition. He has repeatedly traded away the few players who showed any passion, hung onto big contracts for players who never performed to expectations and robbed his current players of rightful profits, all in pursuit of an extra buck.

So bravo to Michael Keaton, for saying what so many, including myself, have been thinking.

Sick Day Part II

I'm starting to view The Flu as some alien entity that has invaded my body and is slowly taking over the pieces of my life. I woke at 11:30am this morning, and felt simultaneously like I had fallen through the rabbit hole and risen from the dead. This week I have entered a state that I call “sick sleep” in which I slumber hard for several hours, not moving, and wake still feeling like, well, crap.

My dreams have been intriguing. This morning's dream included a vampire, a bunch of teenagers (including a pair of indentical twins), magical robes, the bending of time and the ability to kill the vampire using balls of cornstarch. I wish I could write a script. I think it would make a fantastic horror movie, which I would never watch.

I have not been able to keep up with the news at all, and so many interesting things have been happening. Tom Delay resigns, Cynthia McKinney “assaults” a member of the Capital Police for manhandling her. Tonya Kach reappears as a grown adult after disappearing 10 years ago.

Commentary

• Tom Delay resigns: About damn time. I'm looking forward to the news headline “Tom Delay convicted”.

• Cynthia McKinney “assaults” a member of the Capital Police for manhandling her: She apologized, the police officer apologized. Apparently she gets stopped more often then other members of Congress. She did have the appropriate ID. And yes, if some man laid a hand on me, I would probably react violently also. And yes, I agree if it had been a white male, the police officer would have been painted as the aggressor.

• Tonya Kach reappears as a grown adult after disappearing 10 years ago: Very strange, very sad story. Troubled teenage girl runs away, is held as an emotional hostage for ten years only a few miles from her home. From what I have read it appears that no one, her parents, the police or the media, really cared until years after her disappearance.

There is a great article in today's Post Gazette about the emergence of coffee houses in Pittsburgh neighborhoods. Can a brave soul put one in my neighborhood, please.

I received a $300.00 travel voucher for my three-year work anniversary. I'm looking for ideas on where to go to spend the money.

Sick Day & Creperie Beaubourg

What is wrong with the following phrase?
“Twelfth Night tells the story of identical twins, Viola and Sebastian...”

Courtesy of a Product Description of Twelfth Night on Amazon.com. Someone needs to go back and review the basics of sex education AND reread the play.

Today it is my turn to miss work, due to the flu. I've spent the day investigating the secret life of our three felines (Lucy Snowe, Axel and Wigford) watching The Taming of the Shrew, (Taylor/Burton version) and paying bills.



My first taste of crepes was in San Fransisco in 1995, at Ti-Couz. My friend D took me there before my red-eye flight back to Pittsburgh. Thanks to a salmon / tomato savory crepe, a dessert crepe with lemon ice cream and chocolate sauce (trust me, it was divine) and some good white wine, it was a very peaceful flight. Although I highly recommend that you not schedule a three hour layover in Chicago O'Hare on an early Sunday morning. No shower, no open food kiosks and no nap thanks to the airport priest coming over the loudspeaker every 10 minutes to lure the faithful to mass.

Naturally, coming across Creperie Beaubourg next to the Stravinsky Fountain, I insisted on stopping to eat.

The inside of the restaurant was pub cozy, with old, old, old wooden benches, chairs and tables. We were led to a window seat next to the kitchen. Shortly after our arrival, a group consisting of two women and two small children entered. One of the children was highly displeased with J and me. Clothed in a heavy knit Tommy Hilfinger sweater (emblazoned with the American flag, of all things) he dashed up to our table and began scolding us in French. Embarrassed, the mother led the boy away to a nearby table, where he continued his tirade for the next twenty minutes, ignoring his mother's attempts to shush him and occasionally glaring at us.

Since our combined French is barely enough to decipher the menu, we could only guess why the little boy was so upset. Our best theory is that the father of the boy owned the restaurant and we were sitting at “his” table.

The food was excellent, the wine good. The memory is priceless.

Fabulous

Is the only way to describe LUPEC's installation in The Skinny Building of downtown Pittsburgh.

The exhibit, titled "Pittsburgh with an 'H,' Burlesk with a 'K'” can be seen by standing on the corner of Forbes and Wood and looking up at the enlarged, vintage photographs of women who graced local burlesque theaters from the 1930 through the 1950's.

Too Funny

Updated

J pointed out to me when I read the quote to him the the writer was putting a positive spin on a bad situation. He is correct and I was mean spirited to say the remarks were stupid. So I'm editing out "stupid" and replacing it with "strange".

I think this may be my new, favorite, strange quote:

"For the last 6 months, I prayed that God would cause my family (brothers, sisters, nephews, nieces, parents, etc) to come to know Jesus in a personal way (some to return to Him and some who have never known Him), so they wouldn't be left behind when the Rapture occurs. I've been praying this consistantly, quoting scripture, in my prayers, and believing that Jesus would hear and answer me.

Well my prayers were heard, and answered.

Last week I was diagnosed with an illness (prefer not to go into details) and now my family are all climbing over one another to get into church and pray for me."

For more go to Fundies Say the Darndest Things!

Let the Remodeling Begin

Darling husband has decided to start on remodeling the only bathroom in the house by removing the wall tile. The tile is an ugly white with weird blue accent colors. The floor is tiled the same shade as the wall. The bathroom sink is a different shade of blue. In an attempt to make the small space more cheerful the former owner put flower decals on the wall. It didn't work.

I don't think any work was done on the bathroom, ever, aside from replacing the sink and toilet. The bathtub is cast-iron. Alas, it is not the cool claw foot cast-iron tub that I had in my apartment in Greensboro. It is an ugly, shallow thing that is set an inch around into the wall and floor. Removing the tub is going to be a nightmare, but it needs to be done, because I like to bathe when I run a tub. (Our first home had a large, deep, jacuzzi. Our first home also had bad pipes, so it took an hour to fill and the water ended up cold. But I digress...)

It is regrettable that removing tile makes so much noise. I set a time limit on the pounding so J can only do it until 10pm. This gives me to brush my teeth and wash my face, but two to three hours a night in our little house is a little much. The cats split the time between hiding underneath furniture and napping next to me on the couch.

Iraqi War Veteran

I sat next to a Marine on the bus yesterday. I was on the way to Oakland to meet a friend for lunch and shopping. He was on the way to the Veteran's Hospital to pick up his file for a weekend session of training.

He was a handsome man. Beautiful blue eyes, rugged face, friendly. He was injured last fall when his vehicle hit a land mine. He says he does not know how the front wheel of the vehicle managed to miss the mine. Perhaps it swerved just enough out of the way, perhaps it was a time-delay. The man sitting next to him died when the mine exploded. He survived with massive damage to one of his legs and months of physical therapy.

What do you say to a man who has been through that? How do you comfort them? How does one, as myself, who was against the invasion of Iraq and the current war, say the right thing?

In this man's civilian life, he is a landscaper. I took his name and phone number and will try to convince J to save up some money and give him some work. It is the least we can do.

Sick and Other Meditations

Item 1: Quote of the year: “I have an attention span as long as the largest word The Shrub can pronounce correctly”. Check out a clear view to a new life for the rest of the entry.

Item 2: I caught cold 519 and it has been getting progressively worse throughout the week. Tomorrow is a company holiday, so I get the day off. It is an extra day to sleep, but I have to get up on time to haul myself down to Oakland to meet a friend, check out some museums, blow through Kaufman's before it becomes Macy's and take in a Penguin game.

Item 3: Brighton Beach Memoirs rules. I finally got an opportunity to see it tonight, with tea and all three cats. I wish we had a copy of Biloxi Blues. Chicago is ok, but not an adequate substitute.

Item 4: The BigRedKitty is also known as Wigford. We don't know how he got his name. We narrowed it down to a Stonehenge-type circle in England or a rugby player.

Item 5: Reese's Peanut Butter Eggs are evil. And yummy.

Item 6: Someone gave up his seat on the bus to me yesterday.

Eons ago, my best friend and I had a long conversation on the demographics and behaviors of bus riders.

From our completely biased and anecdotal evidence, we determined that the type least willing to give up a seat were men in suits, expensive shoes and briefcases. The type most willing were women with small children.

My least favorite demographic are those who think the bus is their private hired vehicle. These are the people who sit in the middle of two seats and surround themselves with their purse, miscellaneous bag-o-stuff and lunch (the women) or simply spread their body wide over the seats (the men), thereby avoiding the possibility of having to sit next to anybody. I've given up trying to shame them freeing up space. It is not worth it anymore.

Item 7: I wish I had some clever story to tell tonight. Instead I'll just post a Paris photograph. This is Les Halles Carousel. Little did J and I know at the time that you should NOT be in this area at night.

Wild Night

“Crazy” is the only way to describe Sunday's Penguins/Leafs game. Because Leafs tickets are expensive (CA $24.00 - $385.00 / USD $20.61 - $330.88) and difficult to come by (they have a high number of season ticket holders) Pittsburgh is invaded by happy Canadian hockey fans, who buy the arena's cheap seats and get to see their beloved team play twice a year. Every year I try to see at least one of the games, because of the high energy in the crowd and the intense level of play.

We had a couple of Leafs fans sitting two rows down from us, so we were able to exchange some good-natured insults and listen to them make fun of American beer. I find it interesting that visitors to the arena are always surprised by the quality of the beer. One of them asked how much a season was. He was shocked when I told him that it cost roughly $2,000 for a pair of seats for a full season (41 games). He has full season lacrosse tickets. A set of four for eight games set him back $1,600.

Sunday was a little bit different. Midway through the 2nd period, the power went out. Totally and utterly. It was so dark in the arena I could not see my hand in front of my face. After wasting 18 minutes for the lights to warm up, play resumed. For four minutes, when the power went out again.

People were civilized. Some fans left. Most went for another beer run, stretched their legs and waited. Finally play resumed, with a 28 minute third period.

New arena anybody? Because that is what fans were chanting when the lights went out.

Blips on the Radar

I've started a novel project that should take me through the end of the year, possibly longer. Right now I'm in that stage called “research” since I want to make sure that my character is as authentic as possible.

Part of my research has been contacting athletes I knew in college to see if they are willing to talk to me about their sport. There is no experience so humbling as having someone NOT have any clue who you are. I always wondered how much of an impression I made on people. Now I know, not much of one for most.

Two of the three have agreed to talk to me. The third is reluctant, and rightfully so. He is still very much involved in the sport he played, and shows some concern that I want to use him for access. I would not dream of imposing on him in such a manner. As much as I would love to sit down and have a conversation with a couple of pro athletes, I don't have the journalistic credibility to make that happen, and I certainly am under no illusion that some guy I have not spoken to in 11 years is going to help me out.

That being said, I am very excited about this project. Until November first I will research, dream and plan. On November first I will join others for National Novel Writing Month and actually commit the thing to paper.

Beats television.

Weekend Getaway

Tired of the weird winter weather and life in general, J and I packed ourselves into the Volvo on Saturday morning and headed towards Niagara Fall Ont, Canada.

J and I used to travel on weekends often when we lived in our respective cities in North Carolina. He would call me on a Thursday night and say “Feel like hitting the road kiddo?” Friday afternoon would find me in my car headed for Charlotte. From there we would normally head towards the Carolina coast for some beach fun. We somehow always managed to squeeze something vaguely educational from those trips, from visiting Kitty Hawk to climbing the Cape Hatteras lighthouse.

Since we moved back North, we have not traveled as much. There seems to be greater demands on our time and a greater demand that we check in with J's family before going anywhere. So slipping out of the country for 36 hours was a real treat for the two of us.

The Falls are partly frozen this time of year, with enormous chunks of ice and snow mixing with the falling water and huge ice floes in the river below. The air was warm but the wind coming off the water was cold, cold, cold.

After viewing the Falls, we walked through the town, had a late dinner and briefly hit Fallsview Casino. We stopped by Casino Niagara this morning before heading home. A pit stop in Erie for Mighty Fine Donuts and we arrived home to three messages from his family on our answering machine. Apparently they were upset that we did not return the first two.

We also got an introduction to Don Cherry via Hockey Night in Canada. He was dressed like a deranged leprechaun, in a high collar shirt, kelly green tie and green and blue checked suit. The tie did not match the suit.

Penguins fans don't like Don Cherry.

Word Cloud

I thought it this was cool. Get your own at Snap Shirts

Can I Get Your Digits?

Said one of the skateboard rats to me as I walked home from my bus stop late this afternoon.

There is a little group of teenage boys who hang out on my street on sunny days. It does not have to be warm, just sunny. I have passed them many times on my walks home. This is the first time they have deigned to speak to me.

Is it my new haircut that drew their attention? The fact that I was thinking aloud, so my mouth moved a little bit and my thoughts were easily read by my facial expressions? The only thing I knew for sure was that three white boy skate rats pretending they grew up in the ghetto instead of a middle class almost suburban neighborhood.

“Hey” said one of the boys.
“Hello” I replied, and continued walking.

“Yo, can I get your digits” said the second.

“I'll take you to McDonald's” said the third.

I swung around and looked at the three of them. “McDonald's? My God, you are a cheap date” I exclaimed, and continued walking.

“Well, that's the point” one of them replied.

I could not help myself, I started to snicker. Snickering turned to giggling, giggling to open laughter. I was near tears when I walked through my front door.

Darling husband was equally entertained with my encounter.

Have I Officially Lost my Mind?

I've been kicking around an idea for a novel for some time now and finally decided to do something about turning an idea into words on a page. However, it will involve a considerable amount of research into a sport in which my enthusiasm and interest far outstrip my knowledge.

Yesterday I decided to enter different athlete's names into a people search site. Imagine my shock when one of the names produced an address and phone number.

So I dropped a note in the mail today asking if he would grant me an interview. The worse that can happen is that he says yes, and I actually have to go ahead and write the novel. Since I don't have a treatment, agent, contract or editor the chances of actually being published are zero.

NBC SUCKS

Not that I have anything against curling, but it is not exactly what I wanted to see this year in the Olympics. Curling was interesting, in a soothing, put-you-to-sleep sort of way. Bobsledding was cool. But the plethora of ice dancing, figure skating, short track, long track, etc, etc, etc has driven me to distraction.

Today was the last straw. It was bad enough last Sunday when NBC pre-empted a period and a half of the Czech game to cut to women's curling. Today, after the Czechs beat Russia for the bronze medal, they pre-empted the ceremony to run a video about an Italian bobsledder from the 1950's and 60's. I missed the damn medal ceremony.

All I wanted to catch was the hockey games. Since the games play while I'm AT WORK, I have had to settle for checking the scores and looking at photographs. Yahoo! has been terrible at keeping the scores updated in their Olympic section, and NBC has not been much better. Google video is down right now, so I can't even attempt to find a video of the ceremony.

The NHL starts back up on Wednesday. J and I have tickets to the Penguins game that night. I can't wait.

The second Martin Straka jersey card came in the mail last night.

Hockey Saturday

Because network executives are stupid, the majority of Olympic hockey games are aired (live) in the morning while I am at work. Since taking two weeks off from work to stay home and watch hockey is not an option, I've spent today on our couch catching up.

There were two standout games today.

Game 1: Switzerland vs Canada

The Swiss shut out Canada, with Paul di Pietro scoring Switzerland's two goals and giving an emphatic “fuck you” to the National Hockey League. Di Pietro has not played in the NHL for the last ten years. The majority of his time in North America was spent playing for the IHL, AHL farm squads, and passing from from team to team.

After he was let go from the Los Angeles Kings in 1996/97 he knocked around the IHL (now defunct) for the remainder of the season. He moved to Europe, where he has had a successful career playing for Zug, Milan, Chur and Lugano. Originally from Canada, di Pietro became a Swiss citizen in 2005.

At 5' 9” and 181 pounds, di Pietro's failure to succeed in the NHL was attributed to his size. Interesting reasoning. Martin Straka, who has spent all but 4 games of his career in the NHL, towers at 5' 10” and 178 pounds and has come back from numerous injuries, including a broken leg. Both men were initially drafted as Centers, although Straka currently plays Left Wing for the New York Rangers.

Canada was not helped as both goals they scored during the contest were waived off, the first because Todd Bertuzzi was “in the net” and the second accredited as a save to goaltender Martin Gerber. Canada was robbed.

Game 2: Finland vs Czech Republic

Finland pulled off an upset of the Czech Republic, beating the battered Czechs 4-2.

The game turned dirty early in the second period when Jaromir Jager took a hit from Jarkko Ruutu. Jager, a big guy, dropped to the ice like a stone and was left bleeding. As the 6' 2”, 205 pound Ruutu skated away from Jager he was tackled by the 5' 10”, 178 pound Straka, thus demonstrating one of the reasons why Straka is still playing in the NHL. Ruutu earned a 5 minute boarding major and a game misconduct. Straka earned a roughing double minor. Jager did not return to the game.

The team never recovered their rhythm after Jager left the ice. Sporadic fighting (broken up by the referees), two unanswered goals in the third and a brillant performance by Finnish goalie Antero Niittymaki put the Czech's away.

More hockey tomorrow.

Friday Night Entertainment

I'm still attempting to wrap my brain around last night's activities. For once in my amateur writing life I had both a pen and paper available to take notes.

J and I headed to Mellon Arena after work yesterday to watch his nephew play in a basketball game. My first surprise of the evening came when I discovered we had to pay $12.00 each to get into the arena. The nephew was playing in a pre-game before the main event, an ABA match between the Pittsburgh Xplosion and the Toledo Ice.

We cheerfully paid the admission fee and trudged down towards the floor. Since it takes a long time to freeze the ice, the organizers laid a floor on top of the surface and the basketball court on top of the floor. Even with the extra layers, the center of the arena was cold enough to chill my toes and I was glad when we had to move up to the general admission seats. But not before I gave into the temptation to jump over the boards into the Penguins torn-down team box. Unfortunately the boards were covered with a slippery fabric, and all I earned was a twisted knee and a sore back. I will not be trying that stunt on skates any time soon.

I found the arena's decision to cover the boards mysterious. With all the pushing, shoving and hitting that the boards see in an average hockey game, what kind of damage could be caused by the back of a chair? Xplosion games are not usually crawling with media (last night was an exception), so accidentally advertising a competing sponsor's products was not an issue. In addition, only the long sides were covered, not the goal ends.

Most sporting events come with media time-out and half-time entertainment designed to keep the crowds in their seats. The Xplosion was no exception and the half-time show was a circus. Literally, as the entertainment included:

• A group of Shriner's clowns. They made balloons for the kids, conducted a mock game against the South Park girl's basketball team and made a speech about the importance of supporting Shriner's hospitals. The visual aids, in the form of two burn victims, was a nice touch. So was the Shriner clown dressed in a Kevin Stevens t-shirt jersey.


• Four cheerleaders dressed in skin-tight demin clam diggers. One of the cheerleaders was obviously new and a step behind in all of the dances.


• A half-time dance contest that played out as a cross between a middle school dance and a scene from West Side Story (Sharks vs Jets).

The highlight of the evening for most of the crowd was an appearance from Republican candidate for governor Lynn Swann. The man who introduced Swann put a great deal of emphasis on his athletic prowess and four Super Bowl rings, and none on Swann's position on any issue. Out of the appropriately 1800 people, he seemed to have only one detractor.

The Pittsburgh Xplosion dominated the game. The fact that the Toledo Ice was a team seven players strong to the Xplosion's fourteen player bench probably contributed to their loss.

Best quote of the evening came from the announcer: “She was my grade school sweetheart, but I certainly wasn't hers...she obviously didn't get the memo”.

So There Was a Fight Today

Because of a crazy, crazy schedule I was not able to step outside until it was time to go home at 4:30 this afternoon. As I walked out the door I heard a lot of kids shouting in the parking lot next to my building. Twenty seconds later, the shouting turned to screaming. I turned around and two fights had broken out, one on the sidewalk and a second in the middle of the street.

It was somewhat terrifying to see one kid hold another in a chokehold. Especially in the middle of traffic. It was broken up swiftly by the police, in the combination of three motorcycle cops, two bicycle cops and an unmarked car. There was a second moment of terror when the unmarked car almost ran a light right into a Port Authority bus.

No, I'm Not

A Jerk. The Martin Straka card is on its way. A second one will be arriving in, oh, four weeks, but I will not sweat over it this time. I thought the least I could do was purchase the second card after the seller went through the trouble of replacing it.

J was almost run over by a woman in a red Ford Explorer. This morning we stopped briefly at a bakery near our home so he could buy some cookies. The woman was backing up out of a space and was not paying attention to where she was going. After almost hitting my husband, she proceeded to back up an additional 20 feet INTO the intersection. The light was green and she was driving the WRONG WAY, BACKWARDS.

After she reversed and parked (in the space she had just backed out of) she went into the bakery and cut in line in front of my husband. The guy she almost ran over.

An uneventful day. Glow-in-the-dark Miniature Golf, some shopping, a short stop at Sports Rock to say hi to some friends and we came home. It was bookended by another stupid driver in the parking lot of a local grocery store. He backed out of his parking space so fast that he went right over the curb. Brilliant.

Am I a Jerk?

Seriously, this is just a brain dump since I'm not tired enough to go to bed and don't feel like reading.

I contacted the seller of the now infamous Martin Straka jersey card. Text of my email to the seller:

Hi,

I really hate to put you in this position, but I have not received the card. I have utmost confidence that you mailed the card, but it never made it to my door.

This puts me in a difficult position in determining your feedback. I cannot give you any feedback at this time. I cannot give you positive feedback because I never received the item. But I don't feel it is appropriate to give you neutral or negative feedback either, because I
do believe that you sent the card.

I am not asking for my money back, because refunding a penny is pointless. I just wanted to make you aware of the situation.

I wanted you to know that I intend to report the item to eBay as "Not received" as 3 weeks is more than enough time for the card to make it to my address. In addition, I purchased another card from a seller in Quebec on January 19th and received that card in less than a week's
time.

Thank you,

The somewhat panicked seller sent the following response:

DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPEN...THE CARD HAS BEEN SHIPPED DIRECT TO THE POSTAL SERVICE THE DAY AFTER PAYMENT RECEIVED...LET ME KNOW IF YOU RECEIVED IT THIS WEEK...OTHERWISE I WILL LOOK TO BUY ONE BY MYSELF AND SHIP IT TO YOU...SORRY FOR THE DELAY BUT IT'S OUT OF MY CONTROL...SINCERLY

Hmm, turn off the caps locks, pretty please. And stop using ellipsis in place of periods.

I don't blame the seller. I really do believe that he mailed the card to me. He had other cards for sale at the same time, and all those buyers got their stuff. So what happened to mine?

Options:

• Sitting at the bottom of a mail truck?
  
• Sitting at the bottom of the storage box up the street?
  
• Delivered to the wrong address?
  
• Opened by the Department of Homeland Security (tee hee hee) because they thought it was a credit-card shaped bomb? It was coming from Canada. I still have not determined whether Canada counts as "overseas".
  
• Swiped from our mail slot by someone who thought it was a credit card?
  
• Swiped by someone else who is a Martin Straka fan?
  
• Taking a tour of the world ala Where's Waldo? or the gnome in Le Fabuleux destin d'Amelie Poulain?
  
• Swiped by Martin himself?

Aaron McGruder and Terry McMillan

The two just happened to be linked in my mind because of what I am currently reading. I just finished McMillian's The Interruption of Everything and McGruder has been in the news for running afoul of Al Sharpton.

Aaron McGruder is the creator of a comic strip called The Boondocks. A cartoon version of the strip airs on Comedy Central's Adult Swim. Aaron McGruder likes to use the word “nigger” in the cartoon version as often as he can get away with it, and passionately defends his right do to so.

In a recent episode, which ran on Martin Luther King Jr day, McGruder puts the word into the mouth of the Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. King is provoked by the excess behavior of an audience of blacks into a speech liberally laced with the word.

Enter Al Sharpton. He is not happy with McGruder for putting inappropriate language into the mouth of Dr. King and wants McGruder to apologize. As Dwayne Wickham put it: “By having King make such flagrant public use of a word that his cartoon character describes as "the ugliest word in the English language," McGruder pushes the slain civil rights leader into the swamp of self-loathing speech”.

Wickham argues that McGruder would not write an episode in which Golda Meir returns from the dead and calls a group of Jews “kikes”. Probably not since McGruder's subjects are the black community and politics, not former Prime Ministers of Israel. His use of the word aptly reflects the amount of frustration that Dr. King would feel if he saw what is happening to his community.

Aaron McGruder remains unapologetic and maintains that people who get upset over the language are missing the point. King's rant was targeted at blacks who have failed to live up to his dream, and the use of risque language was to get people's attention.

Which leads me to Terry McMillan. In her latest novel, the main character, Marilyn Grimes, goes on a fantastic riff about the amazing utility of the word “fuck”. I happen to be a fan of the word myself, so Marilyn's riff on the word was fun to read.

In both of these cases McGruder and McMillan are putting into the mouths of their characters language that we are taught is inappropriate in polite company. Yet both of these words are used frequently, liberally, and in a number of different contexts in popular culture, some polite, some not so much.

I wanted to conclude this entry with a brilliant observation on the fluidity of language, but I'm having a difficult time finding the words. Words are not static beings, they evolve and change meaning over time, they are liquid, they rely not only on intent to make meaning, but the interpretation of the receiver.

The Fix is in After All

I'm taking the Penguins' issues little too personally at this point. I don't blame this on the team. The boys (and most of them are boys) are a pleasure to watch, as frustrating as the experience is.

Nope, I'm frustrated with Craig Patrick for not using the resources he had available to create a viable team. I'm frustrated with all those people who shouted me down at the beginning of the season when I said that signing all those veterans over using the amazing talent available from Wilkes-Barre Scranton and Wheeling was a bad idea. I'm frustrated with city, county and state officials who are actively driving the team from the state of Pennsylvania.

And, as it turns out, former Pittsburgh Mayor Tom Murphy was correct when he said that the “fix was in” when speaking about the Isle of Capri's chance of getting the slots license, thus funding a new arena and keeping the Penguins in Pittsburgh.

According to an article published in the Sunday, January 29th edition of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, the Ratner family, owners of Station Square via their development corporation Forest City Enterprises, have partnered with Harrah's to expand Station Square into a casino complex. And the Ratner family has deep, deep pockets and political ties. To the tune of $150,000 to Governor Ed Rendell, $29,000 to Mayor Bob O'Conner and $20,000 to Allegheny County Chief Executive Dan Onorato.

One of my husbands clients lives in Manitoba, is an avid Steeler fan and has been following the Penguins fortunes. In a recent email he wrote that if the city were to lose the team, he hoped they would consider going to Manitoba (Winnipeg used to have a professional team) and promised to take very good care of our boys if they did. While I don't think I could bear to lose the team to Kansas City, I felt comforted by the idea of them going to Canada.

Bad Mood

Today was an off day. I think it started last night when I ran a hot bath that turned out to be lukewarm.

It started at 7am when I discovered that while I remembered to reset the alarm clock, I did not remember to move the switch two spaces to the right, thus triggering the sound of the alarm at 6am.

So I was an hour behind before my feet even hit the floor this morning. Not a good way to start the day.

And naturally, since it was Monday, most of the clothing I put on did not fit. My t-shirts have shrunk to a size appropriate only for a pre-pubescent boy. As J pointed out to me this afternoon, the primary market for the well-known-store that I purchase the t-shirts is pre-pubescent boys, so the shirts were merely returning to their natural state.

And the evil rash has returned in a slightly weaker from, so any clothing that did fit irritated my skin endlessly. The hair was a wreak and I could not decide what coat to wear. Unfortunately, my indecision over the the coat caused me to miss the bus this morning.

So I walked into work in a bad mood. I skipped my morning stop at Starbucks (I felt guilty after the jersey purchase of yesterday) and got straight to work.

Only to be faced with the candid photographs from the company outing earlier this month. Me in candid photographs is a very bad idea. Bad, bad, bad idea. Ugh.

And the hockey card has yet to arrive.

Martin Straka

I'm a little bit irritated with an eBay seller tonight. I have waited over two weeks for a hockey card I purchased to arrive in the mail. It has not arrived yet and I am starting to believe that I have been fleeced to the tune of $2.51.

I am a fan of the player Martin Straka, a fact that provides an endless source of amusement for my friends. He is not a superstar like Mario Lemieux or Jaromir Jager. He is simply a solid, talented player who you can depend on in a clutch.

On January 15th, I bid on an Upper Deck Martin Straka 2005-06 Jersey card for a whopping $0.01. I won and promptly sent the seller a message requesting a total, since the card was coming from Canada and I wanted to verify the shipping.

It is now January 29th and I have not received the card. I did receive the Tomas Surovy card I won and paid for on January 19th. This card also came from a seller in Canada.

I am not sure who I should be more annoyed with. The seller for so obviously dragging his feet? The postal service? Which one, Canada or the United States? I recently read that the Department of Homeland Security (a name I cannot type or say without mentally snickering) has been opening mail sent to United States citizens from overseas. Does Canada even count?

If someone from that illustrious department has intercepted my mail, will you please send me the fucking card. Thank you.

On a positive note, I am now the very happy owner of a game-worn, autographed Martin Straka Penguins Jersey. I probably paid too much for the thing, but it was hard to pass up. It has a slash mark across the Penguin logo and sweat stains underneath the arms. It is also so large that I could fit two of me in it.

Yay Me!

I swam my first mile today.

Women Currently in Powerful Positions

Women currently in powerful positions..

Verónica Michelle Bachelet Jeria – President of Chile
Ellen Johnson Sirleaf – Preside of Liberia
Dr. Angela Dorothea Merkel – Chancellor of Germany
Michaëlle Jean – Governor General of Canada
Tarja Halonen – President of Finland (up for re-election)
Mary McAleese – President of the Republic of Ireland
Queen Beatrix – Netherlands
Marie-Noëlle Thémereau – President of New Caledonia
Dame Silvia Cartwright – Governor General of New Zealand
Helen Clark – Prime Minister of New Zealand
Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo – President of Philippines
Dame Pearlette Louisy – Governor General of St. Lucia
Maria do Carmo Silveira – Prime Minister São Tomé and Príncipe

I just thought it was an interesting list.

Ouch

Now that it is the depths of winter (and 50 F outside) I thought I would indulge in a little rant of one of the downsides of cold weather.

Dry Skin.

I'm not talking about ordinary dryness. I'm talking about itching, burning, heat producing dryness. I'm talking about the enormous patches of ugly red scales that have blossomed inside my right arm, across my chest and down my left arm, with a detour across my abdomen.

I'm beyond miserable at this point. I can not bend my right arm properly. I itch all the time. The nickel in the button on my jeans is making my stomach burn. My thighs and underarm itch also.

There does not seem to be any relief in sight. I use one of the world's most mild detergents - All Free Clear. Free! No dyes or fragrance. I don't use fabric softener. My lotions are low-alcohol, my soaps are glycerin, my deodorant is Dove. What more do I have to do to be comfortable in my own skin? Baby oil has not helped. Soaking in oatmeal has had a marginal effect. I've resorted to sleeping in an old cotton t-shirt so my skin does not irritate further. It is so bad that I am scratching myself in my sleep.

Help!

More Miscellanea

I've been off work all week and enjoying a vacation at home. It has not been as fun as I had hoped, mainly because we still have to fulfill our usual Christmas obligations to family and are entertaining house guests.

Some things that have happened:

Darling husband started an “animated political discussion” (aka fight) on Christmas Eve, which I finally had to break up by yelling “Moving on now...” Darling father-in-law was not amused with any of the participants. The entertainment value came in listening to the relative parrot the usual right-wing talking points about the devaluation of Christmas and spying on American citizens without thinking through the argument logically. Pity I only heard the end of the discussion.

We pulled a Sidney Crosby Rookie card from a pack of Upper Deck cards. Current book value: $200.00. No, I'm not selling the card.

The Penguins played exceptionally well last night against the New Jersey Devils. I did not get to see the game on television, but caught the second and third period on our way back from a family gathering. I am pleased. We see them play tomorrow against the Rangers. It will be interesting to see, since the Rangers will be in the Stanley Cup this year.

Apparently, I am some sort of hockey idiot savant at work these days. Almost two months ago I put a list up on my white board of all the things the Penguins organization needed to do to pull themselves out of “suckitude”. The list included the following, in no particular order:

1. Bench Lemieux.


2. Promote Michel Therrien to head coach.


3. Fire Shane Clifford.


4. Release Thibault.


5. Defensive Drills until they throw up.


6. Make Recchi Captain.


7. Bring Andy Chiodo up.


8. Break the kneecaps of any ref who called a Boston/Pittsburgh game this year (sheer fantasy, yes).

What can I say? I read the sports column every day, watch most of the games and pay attention.