Love

Love
Originally uploaded by lcuy2 (Jenn).

She is wearing the most divine wedding dress I have seen on any woman.

Juggler

Juggler
Originally uploaded by lcuy2 (Jenn).

Tower Sunset

Tower Sunset
Originally uploaded by lcuy2 (Jenn).

Champagne Cork

Champagne Cork
Originally uploaded by lcuy2 (Jenn).

Thanks Lisa!

For the "YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE MEME" - "A Few Good Men" and the recommendation on my travel tale of woe. I'm working on the photographs from the rest of the trip (thus the delay) and I promise the story becomes much happier (and probably a lot less interesting) the rest of the week.

Five items in my freezer:
1. frozen vegetables
2. frozen chicken
3. several glasses in various stages of "frosty"
4. frozen pasta
5. coffee beans

Five Items in My Closet:
1. an autographed Martin Straka Pittsburgh Penguins jersey
2. a bin of letters from my best friend from college
3. a pair of green hemp Vans I never wear because they chafe my feet and I hate socks.
4. a red Coach purse.
5. cedar blocks.

Five items in the car:
1. a heavy throw meant for a couch
2. miscellanous computer books
3. a roadside assistance kit complete with a tire patch, jumper cables and a flashlight with dead batteries (really useful!)
4. two plastic lei's from a July 4, 1998 Jimmy Buffett concert
5. an overabundance of pens

Five items in my backpack:
1. my purse
2. bus pass
3. my IPOD and charger
4. my gym clothes and shoes
5. the red rubber keychain that came with the backpack

Paris Trip Part I - The FAA REALLY Hates Me

It took me 60 hours to land in Paris. Sixty hours in which I came to the conclusion that the FAA personally hates me. I also concluded that I will never fly through Newark Airport again. Next time I'll pay extra for a plane ticket through an airport in which all hell does not break lose when it rains.

At 11:30 Saturday morning I discovered that Continental cancelled my flights again. I called the 800 number and learned that the airline rescheduled me for Monday's flight. Since this was unacceptable, I asked to be transferred to the International division. A lovely woman by the name of Shondra arranged to have me fly through Detroit via Southwest and catch a connection to Newark at 6:30pm. I agreed to the arrangement as it was the only way to get to Newark that day. I called 5 minutes too late to get put on the last direct flight from Pittsburgh to Newark, and it is overbooked. She suggests I put myself on the standby list anyway.

And my troubles began...

1. The last direct flight from Pittsburgh to Newark experiences a technical problem and cannot leave. Since I am on standby and the flight is overbooked, I take the Pittsburgh to Detroit flight.
2. A Southwest gate agent pulls my original Continental Pittsburgh to Newark ticket. I protest, as I was told at the ticketing counter I needed to show that ticket in Detroit to get a boarding pass for the flight from Detroit to Newark. Continental agents in Newark are forced to hunt down a Southwest agent to print a FIM (Flight Interruption Manifest) so I can get on the plane to Newark.
3. The flight from Newark, originally scheduled to leave at 5:25pm, then delayed until 6:30pm is delayed until 7:30pm. At 7:30pm, the flight is delayed for another hour. I become upset and am comforted by a total stranger and the pilot of the plane. We do not take off until 8:45 pm. I ask a ticket agent while boarding if it is possible to hold the plane. She says that they will know I am coming.
4. Upon reaching Gate 111, at roughly 10:10pm the pilot repeatedly attempts to radio the Agents at Gate 74 to hold closing the gate so I can make the flight. The agents do not respond. I run almost ½ a mile through the airport to attempt to catch the plane. When I am told by one agent I must speak to an agent at the counter and not to block the closed door. The plane is still attached to the gate. The counter agent attempts to ignore me. When it becomes apparent that I am not planning on going away, she radios the agent at the end of the gateway with the statement "Were not taking any more people on this flight" and receives an affirmative. She rudely instructs me to go talk to Customer Service and will not speak to me after that.
5. I stand in line for almost four hours to see a CSR to get my new flight information. While in line I meet a couple named Clark and Rosalind, from Austin, Texas. After four hours I take the International 800 number and attempt to call for my new flight schedule. The automated system informs me, at various times, that it will take 15, 110, 61 and 50 minutes to speak to a CSR. We are also told that are baggage will remain checked and be put on our new flight.
6. I meet up with Clark and Rosalind again around 3am. They are still trying to find a hotel room for the night. I learn that among the stranded International passengers (and there are many, many passengers) is a 17 year old German girl named Pia. She is traveling alone and does not have enough money for a hotel. Clark and Rosalind ask if I would be interested in sharing a room. I agree. Rooms at the airport Sheraton are located.
7. While waiting for the tram to take us to the hotel shuttles, I run into the pilot from the Detroit/Newark flight. He reiterates that the agents never responded to any of his attempts. When I tell him that I was not allowed on the plane because the flight was closed, he says (and I quote) "that is bullshit". He also suggests that I write a letter. I make it to the hotel and fall asleep at 4am.
8. Upon landing at Charles De Gaulle Monday morning (I took the 6:15pm flight Sunday) I attempt to claim my luggage. And discover that it is lost. Not just a little bit lost, as in coming on the next plane. Lost as in Continental has no idea where it is located.

Note: At this point I have been wearing the same clothing for 50 hours.

I fill out a claims form, hail a cab to the hotel and take a bath. I have no energy left and cry myself to sleep. Later, resigned to a week in Paris without my clothing, I purchase 2 pairs of underwear, a set of disposable razors, shaving cream, two shirts and a skirt.

The airline locates my luggage and delivers it to me at 8:30pm Monday evening.

Breakdown of charges in the 60 hour detour:

1. Hotel room for myself and an unaccompanied 17 year old girl: $162.00.
2. Cost to hold my hotel reservation in Paris for two nights: $141.92
3. Disposable razors: 6.42 Euro ($8.14).
4. Shaving cream: .99 Euro ($1.26).
5. Skirt: 15 Euros ($19.03).
6. 2 shirts: 14.80 Euro ($18.77).
7. 2 pairs underwear: 5.98 Euro ($7.59)

Grand total of detour: $358.71.

Part II coming soon...

Disaster

I should be getting out of a car right now. I should be standing in a line, waiting for TSA to check the bottoms of my shoes.

Instead I am at home. Both legs of my flight were cancelled due to Tropical Storm Beryl. I've been rescheduled on tomorrow's flights. Continental Airlines made no effort to place me on a different flight. The CSR tranferred me to the "international desk". Since I did not have 70 minutes to wait on the phone, I hung up.

I've moved my hotel reservation (that poor, poor clerk must have been ready to murder me) and now I sit, depressed and upset. I'm not confident that I am going anywhere right now, as the rain from the storm is supposed to hang around for several more days.

$1200.00 for a plane ticket, and this is what I get. No plane or trip.

Miscellanea

1. I actually spelled "miscellanea" correctly on the first attempt.
2. Need a new, all-in-one cooking gadget? Try the Thermomix! I may have found the gadget to aid me in getting over my laziness in the kitchen. That is if I can get past the amount of time it takes to learn how to use the thing.
   
3. These are not auspicious signs when one is about to commence international travel:
• Sudden and massive allergies. Bad enough to necessitate renewing my prescription of Singulair to manage the inevitable asthma attack and get my allergies under control.
  
• Thunderstorm warnings for the next 24 hours starting LATE Thursday afternoon.
• Tropical storm Beryl (I'm flying out of Newark Airport. Yes, I know the airport is a hole).
• An ongoing heat wave in Europe. Guess I'll have to take those "too tight" tank tops. (This is according to my mother. J has reassured me that my shirts are not too tight.)
  
• The floor tile we ordered for the bathroom is on a truck "somewhere". Home Depot is not sure which truck or where the tile is at this moment. UPDATE: The tile made it, but not before a very befuddled CSR cancelled one of the orders. J straightened it out in a subsequent phone call.
4. These are auspicious sign when one is about to commence international travel:
• My father's biopsy results were clear. Cancer limited to the prostate only. He will not have to have chemotherapy or radiation.
• A state judge has overturn North Carolina's law banning cohabitation.
• I found the card for the a hat shop, Manon Martin, we visited on our first trip. On the back was the name of a cafe that served us the best meal we had in Paris.
  
5. A public service reminder: When one asks for a quote for a ride to the airport over the internet and receives an insanely inexpensive quote, one should confirm the amount BEFORE giving a credit card number.
   

Bang Head HERE

The Health section of the New York Times online is down right now, so my rant on the inaccurate information in an essay debating the FDA's wisdom in approving Gardasil for females between the ages of 9 and 26 is incomplete.

The summary version of the rant is this:

• Crucial information about the FDA's guidelines for administering the vaccine was left out of the essay, leading the reader to believe that FDA wants all 9 year old girls to be vaccinated.
• She seems to lack a basic understanding about the different strains of HPV and how Gardasil works.
  
• She has a cavalier attitude towards the 10,000 women each year who are diagnosed with cervical cancer.
• She has an equally cavalier attitude about the additional tests a woman with a positive screen must go through to determine whether cervical cancer is present. If I recall, she calls the additional testing a "little discomfort" or some such bullshit.
  
• After giving a nod to right-wing conservative religious groups about preaching celibacy, she goes on to state that the transmission of HPV can be prevented through the use of condoms. NOT TRUE. Protection against HPV (and Herpes) via condom usage is only effective when the condom COVERS THE INFECTED AREA. It is not the most common sexually transmitted disease because it is difficult to catch.

I have no more words (or bullet points) for this kind of stupidity.

Still Tired

Thank you, thank you, thank your for the kind messages and good thoughts of the past week. Dad's surgery was successful. The worse part was the 11 hours spent in the world's most uncomfortable chairs.

For those not familiar with UPMC Presby, it is a very large teaching hospital located in the Oakland section of Pittsburgh. The Family Surgical Waiting Room is staffed with several patient liaisons. Their primary responsibility is to track the status of patient's surgeries and keep the family informed. They escort family members to pre-op and recovery rooms, pass messages on and keep track of family members. They are very, very good at what they do and made a difficult day a little bit easier to bear.

If I ever win the lottery I'm endowing UPMC with a furniture budget so the hospital can purchase real couches and chairs.

An interesting article from NPR on the ritual of the mikvah. From the perspective of an outsider, I always thought this was a lovely ritual that Jewish women are incredibly fortunate to have as a tradition of their faith and culture. I also like the fact that more progressive women are claiming a meaning that goes beyond the original intent.

Prayers

Dad's surgery is today at 1pm. He will be hospitalized for at least three days. Mom is staying with us.

Will update when I can.

Today I Heart Ned Lamont

Because you have to like a man with a sense of humor. Or a man with an audience who has a sense of humor. Two videos for your viewing pleasure.

Note the comments under first video. So original!
Unintentionally Creepy Ned Lamont Ad Remixed

And even more original comments under video 2!
Ned Lamont Has a Messy Desk

Dissection of a Pig Roast

My visits home are always accompanied by mixed feelings. I was not happy because it was not the type of place that made me happy. Junior and High School were hell, a problem compounded by the fact that I was forced to switch from a public to a Catholic school in grade 7. The new school was small (by grade 12 the graduating class was 39) and intensely clique-ish. I did not have much athletic ability, cried too easily and was a little to willing to question the authority of the teachers and the actions of my classmates. I was an easy target for the other students to alternately taunt and ignore.

My dislike of enforced participation in any activity can be traced back to the “Secret Santa” ritual from junior and high school. Every year a “majority rule” voted to keep the tradition alive, and to voluntarily opt out was not permitted. Every year my name would be drawn, traded among classmates and ultimately ignored. I can only recall one year in which I actually received gifts, because one of the few classmates I had as a friend made a point of trading for my name so I would not feel excluded.

Through seven years and two degrees, as visits to my hometown became less frequent and less fraught with angst, I would talk to graduates from the grades behind me. Several said that what got them through and made them feel ok about themselves was my determination to be an individual in the face of so much teasing.

I spent three years at my former high school as a librarian and teacher. In between shelving books and showing middle school students the basics of research, I did guest appearances in Senior AP English classes to talk about narration via the X-Files, Frankenstein and Alice in Wonderland. I watched as the school transitioned from an outdated two story + basement to a Grade K – 12 facility with separate gym, cafeteria and auditorium, ample classroom space, two libraries and separate wings for each stage (elementary, middle, high) of learning.

I still see those kids, "my kids". They call me by my first name and greet me with hugs. The youngest have finished their first year of college. The oldest are finishing graduate school, marrying and trying to figure out what to do with the rest of their life.

My fifteenth high school reunion is in August. I am not attending. I see all the people I want to see from my tiny class of 39 and my former students. On Saturday, the father of one of my oldest and dearest friends looked around at the little group of us assembled for pre-party preparations. "This is my family", he said with a smile. "This is my extended family."

Quick Notes

I'm heading out of town for the weekend, so I will be missing most of the All Star pre-game festivities. J and I are heading to DuBois (home of hot dogs stuffed with peanut butter) for a pig roast. If you happen to be in the neighborhood, stop by! You can get directions from Palumbo's Meat Market.

Have a good weekend, everyone.

Now I Must Shower

Because Ray Shero signed the psychopathic forward Jarkko Ruutu today.

• Ruutu of the illegal hits?
• Ruutu, who damn near gave Jager a concussion at this year's Olympics?
• Ruutu, who spent as much time in the penalty box as he did on the ice last year?
• Ruutu, who seems to get far too much enjoyment out of hurting opposing players?
• Ruutu, who picks fights with his own teammates during practice?
• Ruutu, who it is reported is not even very good at being a thug?

Maybe my instincts about the guy will be wrong. Maybe he really is the type to help elderly ladies across the street and visit children's cancer wards in his spare time. Maybe he is what the team needs to keep Crosby from getting as beat up as he did last year.

I feel ill.

Update 5 July 2006

1.6 Million a year? Is Shero on crack? He could have resigned Ryan VandenBussche and gotten the same performance for less money.

Schadenfreude...

...is listening to a man on a high-speed bike gunning his motor while waiting in tunnel at a red light. Is watching said biker speed up and weave through traffic (dangerous and stupid) so he can make it to the next red light five seconds faster than the other motor vehicles. It is watching his biking companion, sans any protective gear, including helmet (no longer required in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania) also dangerously cut off multiple cars to catch up to his buddy.

And it is watching city police in an unmarked car (one of the vehicles biker 2 cut off) turn on their lights and pull both bikers over.

Schadenfreude can be a beautiful thing.

In other news, last night J and I saw the Violent Femmes play for $1.00. It was well worth the price of admission. We got a giggle out of the shock some of the teenagers, dressed in their punk/goth gear, felt when they discovered that the Violent Femmes are a group of middle-aged men. This is akin to the laugh I got several years ago during my incarnation as a teacher when one of my middle school students, in all seriousness, asked me about “that new band” Pearl Jam.

Lisa's recent post on parents who expect the public to worship at the feet of their badly behaving children, struck a sympathetic chord. One of the reasons I hesitate to start a family is that I might act exactly as described in the post. And I really do not want to be that kind of parent. I want to be the kind of parent with enough nerve to hold up a busy check-out line until my badly behaving child apologizes to the clerk because she was rude.*

In addition, I am the infamously stubborn black sheep in-law who refuses to allow her husband's parents to cow her into submitting to a life that includes non-stop in-law interference and family vacations. I've seen far too much interference on the part of a "doting" grandfather to convince me that bringing another child into the family will set me up for many, many years of battles I am not totally prepared to fight.

We have finally gotten to the point where J's extended family no longer overtly pressures us to have children. It is more subtle now, and includes Mother's Day and Father's Day gifts so we "don't feel left out". J's brother, a priest, has been giving me Mother's Day gifts from year one because "I live with his brother and that is work enough" as a joke, and I do find it funny. I don't find it neccessary for anyone else to give me a gift. We suspect they think we are childless by physical circumstances instead of conscious choice. I'm ok with letting them think that, as it takes the overt pressure off both of us.

*True story. The mother would not accept her change back until her daughter apologized to the clerk. I was amazed.

A Bus Story

The improvement in the weather has brought out the more eccentric bus riders. This morning it was a group of Meth addicts, including the woman who was involved in the mysterious car accident I wrote about several months ago.

She had two companions today. Man A was thin with long, scraggly hair and a matching beard. Man B was enormous. Everything about him screamed uncomfortably large. Heavy construction boots, long-sleeved t-shirt, overalls with a black leather belt and three handkerchiefs around his neck, knotted farmer style.

The woman and Man A sit down across from me. Man B sits down one seat over from me. They start talking. I have a book out (Lost in Translation by Nicole Mones) and am trying to read.

Man B complains about warm it is on the air-conditioned bus. He is sweating profusely and pulls another handkerchief (how many can one person carry?) out of a pocket and wipes his face. The voices of the trio become lower and start to convey a sense of urgency.

I try to keep my eyes and mind on the text.

Man A and Woman: "Do you have any?"

Man B: "Not on me."

Woman: "How much? How much?"

Man B: "I don't have any right now. I only come downtown on Mondays and Thursdays."

Man A: "If we pay in cash, can we get some earlier?"

Woman: (pulls an empty prescription bottle out of her purse) "Yeah, can we get it earlier?"

Man B: "Maybe a day. I don't have any money right now for it." (Wipes his face again)

Man A: "Because we can pay in cash."

Man B: (breathes heavily, sighs, re-ties one of the three kerchiefs around his neck) "I'm broke right now anyway. I'll be down $60.00 next Monday and another $100.00 on Thursday. I'm in debt."

Man A: "We can pay in cash. We can pay you back."

Conversation drifts back to how hot it is on the air-conditioned bus.

Far be it for me to jump to conclusions, but if the frantic manner one of my fellow riders displayed in getting off the bus is any indication, this merry little group was not discussing the purchase of black market pineapples.

It is a pity she did not stay on long enough to hear the punchline to the whole conversation. The three were returning from an early Narcotics Anonymous Meeting.

There are so many different levels of reaction to overhearing this conversation. Horror at the idea that I am witnessing an attempted drug deal. Amusement at the idea of a drug dealer working on a set schedule (Mondays and Thursdays only). Pity that they are so caught up in an addiction that they have lost all sense of discretion.

More Evidence of Hockey Withdrawal

1. I was premature in rejoicing over Evgeni Malkin. He has not yet officially signed with the team.

2. Rumor has it that Mount Lebanon native Mark Cuban (yes, that Mark Cuban) and Pittsburgh native Dan Marino have thrown their support, financial and otherwise, behind Andrew Murstein in a bid to buy the team.

Oh please, let it be so. And let the current owners decide to sell the team to a group who wants them to remain in Pittsburgh instead of "I'm from Hartford, I feel your pain, but I will move them to Kansas City anyway" pair by the names of David and Sam Fingold.

3. The contracts of Sebastian Caron and Shane Endicott were bought our last week. To "buy out" a contract means that the organization pays out a portion of the salary a player would have earned over the remaining life of a contract. Those players then become unrestricted free agents and can sign with any organization they choose.

I'm not happy with the Penguins decision to buy out Caron's contract. Joceyln Thibault has been erratic at best and spent most of last season on the injured list. Unfortunately, buying out the last two years of his contract would cost the Penguins 1 million, money the organization cannot afford to spend. Caron was inexpensive at $240,000. (Can you imagine getting paid that much money to go play for another team? Unreal.)

4. Qualifying offers were given to the following players: Colby Armstrong, Ryan Malone, Brooks Orpik Marc-Andre Fleury, Jani Rita and Niklas Nordgren.

Andy Hilbert, Konstantin Koltsov, Tomas Surovy and Andy Chiodo will become unrestricted free agents on Saturday, along with a couple of other players.

Why do they keep trading my favorite players away? I would like to see Surovy remain with the team. And the decision to qualify Jani Rita is puzzling, since he signed to play in Finland next year. It seems counter-productive to make him stay when he wants to leave.

All will be forgiven if they resign Martin Straka.

Last Night...

I had a dream that Don Cherry was on Canadian national television making fun of me for posting the Crosby/Ovechkin photograph. He called me a puck bunny.

I woke up disturbed. I think I'm going through withdrawal.

Hockey's Future

Pay attention, because sports writers are going to be setting these two up against each other for years to come. On the left is Alexander Ovechkin, age 21 of the Washington Capitals, 2006 winner of the Calder Memorial Trophy. On the right is Sidney Crosby, (almost) 19, of the Pittsburgh Penguins. Crosby was second place for the Calder Cup.

This is the first photograph I have seen of Ovechkin smiling. He should do it more often.

Weather

Very little of interest has happened in Pittsburgh this week. With Big Ben out of the hospital, the Pirates in the cellar (again) and total apathy towards the World Cup, the only topic people have left to talk about is the weather.

Even my fellow bus riders have been well behaved. The combination of heat and wicked thunderstorms has taken all the life out of them.

Slashdot is having a debate over companies that limit their hiring to H-1B workers to circumvent paying industry standard for programming jobs. It is also easier to trap those workers into sub-standard contracts and bad working conditions, since firing means they have 1 month to find another job or leave the country.

I turned 33 on Wednesday. It was an ordinary birthday. I took the day off to run some errands and spent several hours wandering in circles through Barnes and Noble trying to decide what reading material I should take on my trip.

I finally picked up a copy of Umberto Eco's The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loana and George Orwell's Down and Out in Paris and London.

I was also seriously tempted by Victorinox's Lingo Cross Flyer Messenger Laptop Tote in the shade Azalea/Fog. I don't need a new laptop tote. But it sure is pretty. As is the rest of the luggage in that style.

In the evening there were friends, food, and cake with cream cheese frosting for dessert.

My gift from J this year was a copy of Art Spiegelman's The Complete Maus. Since it is a set of books everyone should read, I frequently loan out my paperback copies, which are now damaged from unnamed parties bending the front covers back over the spines of the book. A practice I detest. Unnamed parties also do this with library books, and it is very difficult to resist the urge to slap their hands.

New Photos

I'm uploading photos from Flickr, so they might be a little bit wonky for a while. I'm still experimenting with sizes and compression rates. So far they are all small and I'm not sure how to increase the size without killing the margins.

I'll spare you the many, many photographs of the cats I have taken since Thursday, but I am going to introduce you to Wigford, the Maine Coon

Jay, these were taken with the new camera.

Wigford

Wigford
Originally uploaded by lcuy2 (Jenn).

My high strung, easily startled, woman-loving, bird watching, (part) Maine Coon cat.

Merkids

Merkids,
originally uploaded by lcuy2.

Playing in the fountain at Point State Park.

Paper Kittens

Paper Kittens,
originally uploaded by lcuy2.

Cher Guevara

Cher Guevara,
originally uploaded by lcuy2.

Taken off a friend's t-shirt. He was in town for Pridefest and wandered from the North Shore over to the Arts Festival because the street food was better.

I'm supposed to be in the picture, but edited myself out. Anyone who has seen the Seinfeld episode where Elaine ends up revealing a little bit too much in a photograph will understand why.

I am a Bad Person

Really, I am. I should not be anticipating the culture clash that will take place if my in-laws go ahead with their plan to attend tomorrow night's Pirates game, with this much glee.

My mother-in-law called this evening. She wants to know if we are interested in going to the game tomorrow evening with the rest of J's family. Normally we do not watch the Pirates with his family since J's father is incapable of paying attention to the game and insists on distracting everyone around him. He does the same thing when watching movies and it is very annoying.

To start tomorrow is Pittsburgh Pridefest, held every year on the North Shore near Heinz Field and PNC Park. The day's activities conclude with the Pirates game which is heavily attended every year.

And the Anthrocon Convention is in town. Tomorrow night is the Masquerade, so there is potential to see people dressed up as their favorite furry creature.

And they don't know about either event.

And I'm tempted to not tell them.

I am a bad person.

Giddy

I purchased a new (to me) brand of rum today, Gosling's Burmuda Gold, and I am feeling a little giddy after sampling it in some Coke. Giddy enough that I managed to drop a both a rechargeable 9-volt and an EN-EL3 Lithium-Ion battery onto the floor while trying to figure out how to set up the charger for the latter. Later I managed to prove that there is such a thing as too much garlic (I honestly did not think it was possible) when I poured too much garlic powder in my pasta and ended up with my mouth on fire.

Giddiness may also be a result of the new toy that came today, a Nikon D50 camera, which I have a little over a month to learn how to use before I leave for Paris. After I dropped the batteries J asked me to resist picking up the camera until tomorrow for fear that I will break it. Right now he is installing the battery and attaching the strap to the camera.

I can't wait to take some photographs.

Picking up the camera was an interesting trip. My neighbors bombed their house recently sending hundreds of spiders into our back yard. One of them decided to take up residence on the driver's side car window, a fact I did not notice until I was in the car and ready to pull out into traffic.

Since I'm not fond of spiders, especially hairy black and white ones the size of nickels, I closed the windows and left the sunroof open, thinking that my little un-friend would eventually fall off the car.

But the traffic was stop-and-go and after a few minutes I decided to close the sunroof and turn on the air conditioning. While sitting at a stoplight I looked up to see the spider crawling across the sunroof. I spent the rest of the trip shuddering, brushing imaginary creatures off my legs and trying to find something to kill the spider with if it happened to make an appearance inside the car.

Thus ends the adventures of giddy Jenn.

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.