Playing in Pittsburgh

Ben has a great job--I am constantly grateful for his employment with such a great, great company.  There is some travel, but sometimes that works out really really nice if I get a chance to come along.  This last week he had to go out to Pittsburgh and I was able to arrange things at work so I could come along.  I was especially excited for this because of this guy:

Fred Rogers is my hero.  It is here in this rugged city of steel and bridges that Mister Roger's Neighborhood was filmed and broadcast at WQED, traveling over the airwaves and into my childhood heart.  Where most children grow up and out of the land of make-believe, I held on with a vigilance that borders fanaticism.  It really began one summer of my youth when I found out they were going to stop running new episodes of The Neighborhood.  Remembering with fondness the years of memories and early-childhood education I received from my television screen, I ran home every day from summer school (I was getting ahead--nerd, not dropout) to watch the last week of current episodes.  I remembered all the good times with Mr. McFeely, Lady Aberlain (who always reminded me of my Mom), King Friday and the Gang.  Riding that trolley to the land of Make Believe was my personal haven from suburban hardships.  It was there that I vowed I would always remember the legacy of Mr. Rogers.  Mr. Rogers and his wonderful sweaters.  Seriously, his wikipedia article is actually INSPIRING.  I think it's the first time a wikipedia article has ever made me want to be a better person.

My passion for Mr. Rogers was amplified, when one foggy weekday morning in February on my drive to Seminary (early morning Bible study for us Mormon kids) I was listening to the news on my Honda Civic's radio that had a way of dying and then coming back to life, and they announced the death of one Fred McFeely Rogers.  My sister who hadn't been paying attention to the broadcast was startled by my hounding cry.  I had to pull the car over I was so upset.  Dramatic?  Maybe.  But this was a man who exemplified goodness and wholeness ON TELEVISION.  And off--people who met him were often surprised that his calm demeanor was the same off the set as it was on.  Talk about integrity!

I remember dragging myself into the Seminary classroom that morning, eyes still red from the tears.  My classmates asked what was the matter and I gave them the terrible news.  Of course they didn't really give a darn, but one friend in the class a few weeks later brought be a present--a small edition book of sayings by Mr. Rogers.  It even had a little trolley charm attached to the bookmark ribbon--she knew he had met that much to me.  To this day I am still touched by the sentiment.

So here I am in Pittsburgh, trying to get as much Mr. Rogers as I can in the short time frame (I spent most of the time in the hotel room getting caught up on projects I've put off--I'm sure the maids were confused by the Bernina and fabric scraps littering the room).  Last night Ben and I drove around (getting HORRIBLY lost--Pittsburg has a way of taking you on the freeway if you make a wrong turn...) trying to find the Fred Rogers Memorial Statue.  We eventually did--he sits on the North Shore in front of Heinz field watching over the city.  The statue was done in an impasto style which makes for some creepy photos, but I climbed up into his freezing cold lap anyway and got a few shots.  Ben was a trooper--especially since, he never even watched the show as a kid (farm kid--he had animals) and has no attachments to our cardigan-clad friend.  To this day, when people ask that getting-to-know-you question: "If you could have lunch with one famous person living or dead, who would it be?" I always say Mr. Rogers.  Or Sister Wendy but that's another blog post for another day.  After re-reading that question I realize that sort of thing was ONLY asked on getting-to-know-you-for-possibly-eternity situations at the Y and has not been inquired of me recently.  Makes me even more grateful to be done with that phase of my life.

In closing, one of these days, I will get out to Latrobe, PA and visit the grave of that great man.  Will I bring flowers or a shoelace?  In hushed reverence I will thank him for all the magical memories and for being something to television you rarely, if ever, see.  Won't you please?  I'll ask, Won't you please? Please won't you be my neighbor?

Here I am at the Children's Museum of Pittsburg where
they have most of the original puppets used on the Show

There's that sweater!  Most of the workers giggled when I told them why
I was there at the Children's Museum, obviously without children.
There were also pieces of the set I got to see, as well as his shoes!

Say Goodbye to Fall

I had my first fall out here in PA and boy howdy--what a season!  Sometimes I was worried my eyes would have aneurisms the colors were so vibrant and beautiful. Utah isn't known for it's beautiful falls, unless you take that drive up the canyon that I never did and San Diego, well, I won't even go there.

Anywho, we got back from Thanksgiving in Utah (more on that later) and all the leaves had done their falling and I guess it's now officially winter.  Except we had amazing 50-60 degree weather for another couple weeks (can we say "I Love Philly"???).   Fall ate too much turkey and slipped into a coma before we could get the Christmas carols out.  Although I did cheat this year and start listening to Christmas music the week before thanksgiving--go ahead, hate me.

For those out there who felt those autumn colors were swept away to soon, here are some photos I snapped on my neighborhood walk.  They really don't do the tri-state-gorgeousness-that-was-fall justice, but it will have to do.  My eye balls were too busy having spasms most of the time to remember to take photos.

Reading Terminal What?

Rainy days and mondays always get me down.  Okay it was a Thursday but it was raining.  I was getting my hair freshly dyed and unfortunately on this day, I got the short end of the stick when attending a hair school:  a new girl.  I could tell by her unconfident snips and the lengthy fixings by the instructor that she was a fresh face on the floor.  After we rinsed out the dye and I sat back down in the chair I tried not to hide the utter shock of red that was now adorning my cranium.  She had prepped me, remarking while rinsing "Wow, that's really red...I don't know what happened, I followed the recipe from your file..." Girl's got a while to go.  My new look included brown with a HINT of red, I think she got it mixed up--mixing up a batch of red with a hint of brown.  Buuummer.  After she blow dried it was more browny purple than RED.  Oh well, I thought, I'll just be a little extra punky for the next little bit.  My biggest worry was Ben: he HATES fake red hair.  He handled it surprisingly well though, I think because he knows it doesn't last forever.  The first time I dyed I would catch him nervously eyeing my locks in the evening.  When I first wrote that sentence, I accidentally wrote "died" as in "the first time I died" which makes me giggle because eyeing my dead-girl locks might be something Ben would do in a state of post-mortem depression.  At least it is what I imagine he would be doing in my steam-punk victorian zombie dream.  Amirite?

After my hair appointment I could do two things: go home to my lonely house with Ben still out of town, or try to make a day of it and explore some more of the city.  To the city!  I went back to the Reading Terminal Market, a favorite of the locals and more hipster types that visit Philly.  I had gone once before when we FIRST moved here and my grandparents were coming through on their cross country road trip with some friends.  My grandparents are the most adventurous seniors I know.  The idea of spending a month on the road makes me want to curl up in bed with my laptop and rewatch LOST--just sayin.  But anywho, as adventurous as they are, the market was a little too rambunctious and not the right flavor on their whirlwind trip, which had more of a historical slant anyway: we lasted 5 minutes.  So I ventured back to really soak in the wonderful noisy foodie squishyness of it all.  Sooooo nice.  And their were Amish people!!  Amish people, people.  I sooo badly wanted to take a picture of them but I kept myself respectful.  And then looking back through my pictures I realized I accidentally got some in my shot.  Whoops.  I spent an hour gazing and smelling, smelling and gazing.  Piano music serenading the hanging sausages.  Lobsters smiling at the red tile floor.  The nice, albeit greasy, granola girl gave me directions to the really good Chinese food but I ended up partaking in some very amazing indian cuisine.  If you attend the market, please visit Aunt Naneen's--it is so choice.  She let me taste all of the dishes before I made my decision on some incredible Chana Masala.  What a fantastical place.

The End of an Era Part II

I've been feeling a little morose lately.  It could be the change in weather, Ben's really long trip to California for work, or my hormones, but you know what I think it really is?  Wings.  I really liked that show.  I'm almost more sad about it being over than Lost.  Crazy, I know.  But you WANTED Lost to end just so you could have a life again.  Wings was a GOOD friend, a friend that meets you at a coffee shop for a quick catch up and leaves you laughing and feeling really good about yourself after 20 minutes.  A low maintenance friend who will be there when you need them whether it be tomorrow or in 3 weeks and they won't be offended.  Lost is like a friend that calls you up at 3am and HAS TO TALK and you are so involved in their drama that you HAVE TO LISTEN just so you can know.  Even though you know this relationship is bad for you and you should just drop them, you make yourself feel better by telling yourself you are such a loyal friend and you know they will go away someday so you just need to hang in there until they are gone.  This friend will also say really dramatic things and then not explain them.

Anyway, since Wings was such a good friend I REALLY miss them.  Now that it's gone I realize I really took it for granted.  And I tried to watch Cheers (same writers), it just wasn't the same.  And now I see things that remind me of Wings all the time.  The other day I went to Burlington to return a belt.  There in the checkout line, this was taunting me:

And this isn't like I saw Wings on DVD, because that's understandable and I would buy it.  This is an intimate secret we share--this is the reason Thomas Hayden Church left the show!  And it just sat there, reminding me of my old friend and the bond that we shared.  Dirty rotten mumble mumble mumble.

Another thing I loved about Wings was the accidental-future-guest stars.  Recognize this guy:

That's right, it's JACK SHEPHERD.  In Season 3, Episode 21 he played a robust and lovable high school baseball player from Joe's alma mater that was about to break Joe's record.  Joe was kind of resentful about it.  This was funny because he was oh so squeaky clean: "Oh you were down in Mexico, huh?  Probably partying with the ladies..." says Joe.  "No I was down there helping rebuild a village with my church group" says Jack Shepherd, all shoulders and smiles.  Good times.

I know all good things must come to an end, but why Wings?  Couldn't they just live and work in that airport terminal forever?  I was feeling sad about it, reminded of the show when I saw that my Proctologist, I mean DOCTOR OF NO SPECIFIC SPECIALTY, was named Lowell (and as much as I loved Lowell on the show, I hoped his dimwittedness was not because of the name.  I also hoped Lowells DID come with small fingers, but I digress).  Anyway, I was oh so sad about my old friend, when I remembered something: an image flashed into my mind from many seasons ago.  It had been a perplexing problem at the time but one I did not fret over because there had been so many episodes still to watch, oh so many episodes.  But once forgotten, it came back to me in full color, like the ghost of a friend reminding you that they are still there and they still love you:

An episode left to watch!  To this day I do not know why that particular episode is on disc only, and I don't care much.  I know that its there and that is what matters.  I found the episode on YouTube in terrible condition, almost pixelated beyond recognition, but I can hear their voices and have the set memorized enough to know where they are and what is going on.  I almost watched it right then and there on my phone, waiting for Ben in the car while he bought a roast for Sunday dinner but then I stopped, realizing I shouldn't squander such a gift from TV afterlife.  And so it waits patiently, comforting me by its very existence.  And someday, perhaps a day thats gray and lonely, I will call up that old friend and we will meet.  I will meet them and it will be just like it was, all shoulders and smiles.

Happy Halloween

If you haven't figured it out, we were Zombie Pride and Prejudice.  Which I have not read, by the way.  I love halloween.  Most of all the costumes.  I used to be really into haunted houses but I got over that after I cried at one last year.  Anyway, I start thinking about my costume (and now Ben's costume) about mid-July.  I had other ideas but this one came to me late one night, the quiet dark telling me I should be asleep, and it was just too good NOT to do.

At the Payne's awesome halloween party, Ben with Monocle.

And you know what will really make you hurt?  These costumes cost us a total of $17.08.  I bought the feather for half price at work (and yes, now it is decorating my workspace), I used my wedding dress (better than just sitting in the closet!), a top hat I've had for years, a vest from the thrift store, a hand-me-down evening coat, a strip of chiffon for Ben's cravat, and I made the monocle out of a key ring, a chain, and a piece of wire.  The most expensive thing was the makeup.  I should be on some Project Runway type show but instead of people sewing things whoever puts together the best costume at the lowest price wins immunity.  Make it work people!

Our pumpkin was inspired by our neices' drawing, pictured below.  Cinduv means "Kind of" (she was drawing different feelings) which we decided was how our pumpkin was feeling.  We also thought it would be ironic and funny.

Hope you had an awesome halloween!

Open your Eyes

As previously mentioned, I quite enjoy riding the Subway into the city.  Besides the occasional fear that I'm riding in a potential terrorist and/or germ death trap, I love it.  There is a series of really awesome murals you get to view on your commute in and I get to feel all warm and fuzzy inside for being green and using public transportation.  Occasionally I meet new people.  One day I chatted it up with a giant black man who was reading Eragon about our favorite young adult novels.  Yesterday, I met Chantelle.

She came on the train with her Mom and sat directly across from me.  For some reason when I see kids, I can't help making funny faces at them.  They always respond more positively than adults.  And more often than not, they respond with another funny face or a big smile.  Even the babies.  I encourage you to repeat this experiment for your own verification and delight.  Chantelle responded with puffed out lips and a furrowed brow.  The next thing I usually do is copy their face.  Most children just smile after that, not Chantelle--she pulled her eyebrows up REALLY high and made her eyes really big.  I copied her.  Then it was eyebrows back down.  I followed.  Back and forth across the aisle we performed our face dance.  Then she laughed loud and clear, the unabashed laughter of youth.  Her laughter was like light, pealing through the train car and either annoying or bringing joy to the fellow commuters on their way home.  Hopefully joy--the older lady she sat next to smiled genuinely at our interchange.  Then she started asking me questions.

"Where do you live?" she inquired.   "Chantelle!" her mother tried to get her to leave me alone.

"Lansdowne" I responded.

"Where do you work?" she ignored her mother.  "Chantelle!  Don't be asking the nice lady questions."

"I work in the city" I smiled back.  I probably shouldn't have encouraged her.

"You're funny" she told me.

"You're cute" I told her.  "Thank you" said the Mother kindly.  And with that we came to a stop (but not before I got some pictures of the little cutie), the masses filing out and taking their weary bodies home, mine a little less weary from the encounter.  Have a good life Chantelle, I hope to see you and your funny faces again someday.

Hurrah for Outings

Last weekend Ben and I visited Terrain--oh boy what a treat.  Owned by the same group that gave the world Anthropologie, Terrain is like Anthro's hip aunt that moved to the country to get out of that dreadful city, but brought along her vintage inspired lifestyle.  And she gardens.  I found out about it actually from a New York blogger--I looked it up because she mentioned it was in Pennsylvania and boy-howdy it was 25 minutes up the road from me!  So, outting it was.

After a few weeks of drooling over the website and its obscenely priced vintageness, I decided I REALLY wanted this.  I've been working up various decorating scenarios for our dining room, which right now has our barn stars in it.  I really DON'T want to go Americana and I had this GREAT idea that included moss, but Ben hates fake moss.  I don't know where this loathing for lichen stems from, whether a traumatic childhood encounter with a pond or its current fad in the decorating world (probably the former), but it was back to the drawing board.  So then I found this sign, which includes my love for typography and it goes with the stars, and I imagined a vintage barn theme going on, sans moss.  He also exnayed dried lavender bunches.  "The smell will interfere with the taste of our food!" he says.  Talk about creative parameters.

So we made the drive out to Terrain, beautiful fall weather decorating the trees and a slight chill in the air.  Just behind an upscale strip mall there she was.  It was just before closing, the sun was setting, and I felt like I was entering an autumn Narnia--transported to a magical, overpriced place (not to be confused with Disneyland).  I took photos by the Mums, my new favorite flower (those hearty Mums!) and we dreamed about our beautiful farm house we will live in someday with distressed concrete counters and wide hallways for grandchildren to run through.  It was a fun time indeed.

Except for the sign.  After a lot of hunting and a little helping by a store clerk we located the reclaimed tractor letters.  And they were about a 4th the size I thought them to be from the image online.  No wonder they were closer to being reasonably priced!  So we left, empty handed but not empty hearted.  We will see you again Terrain, perhaps in the spring.

And yes, I got an iPhone.  And a hipstercam app--so now my life looks 10% more awesome.  

The End of an Era

Yesterday I finished watching my latest recent Netflix obsession: Wings.  Set in an early 90s Nantucket airport, this motley crew stole my heart.

I loved watching this show.  It was a simpler time: a time before internet, a time before cell phones smaller than a brick, a time before TSA strip searches.  Apparently not a time before Moammar Gadhafi--see Season 3 Episode 17.  I almost peed my pants over that one.  

Anyway, the cast was great, the writing was hilarious, and for the most part it was pretty clean (I definitely got a lot more sexual references then I did watching it as a 9 year old with my Dad in the family room--but then again, my Dad is a chronic channel flipper and I don't think I ever watched more than 7.5 seconds of anything.  ADHD anyone?)  The saddest episode though was the one where Lowell had to go into witness protection and was actually leaving the show (Lowell was my favorite--if I ever see Thomas Hayden Church in real life I will scream, run up to him, and say "Lowell!  You're Lowell!"  and not "Hey you were the Sandman!" ...but that's another story).  Even sadder still was that after a little internet hunting, Church was actually leaving the show to star in his own sitcom called "Ned and Stacey" opposite Debra Messing (of Will and Grace).  I watched a few clips on YouTube.  I'm surprised it lasted two seasons.  I'm surprised Church didn't slip into an alcoholic downward spiral, finding himself frequently at the local pub blubbering something about how he should've listened to Tim Daly.  Tim Daly and his amazing chin line.  I mean, look at that chin:

You know who else has a great chin?  And better glasses?

Don't be hatin' ladies.  It's funny though, I was never into chins--just glasses.  I was always a glasses girl.

Another sad part about finishing up Wings was that due to poor observation on my part and poor coding on Netflix's part, I THOUGHT there was one more episode.  I went to click next episode and there WASN'T one.  There just wasn't.  And of course the show ended with a big finale with Joe and Helen leaving to Vienna for a year and Brian taking over Sandpiper Air...what was a girl to do???  To get my Wings fix I resorted to hunting down the episode of Monk (which I never got into because, let's face it, Psych is funnier) where Tim Daly makes a guest appearance.  This is funny, because Tony Shalhoub played the defeatist taxi driver Antonio Scarpacci on Wings.  In the episode (Season 1 Episode 13) Monk has to get on an airplane or otherwise be left alone without his nurse.  We follow Monk through the airport, watching him have near panic attacks as he is cleared at each security stage...which honestly these days, could give anybody a panic attack.  I was just glad he didn't have to have a hands on search.  That show is more stressful than funny for me.  Then Monk gets to the gate, the last stop before boarding the dreaded plane, where he has an interchange with the ticket agent.  

Stop.  Freeze.  I know this face.  And that's when it hits me...about the same time that I realize I need to watch less Netflix--the Christmas episode in Season 8 of Wings: the Nun!  Antonio (Tony Shalhoub) spends the whole episode driving around a nun who came to the island after she had a dream that she needed to save someone--those someone(s) ended up being Helen, Casey, and Fae who got stuck in the basement of the department store but I won't ruin the episode for you.  Anyway, here she is:

In this scene Antonio was quizzing her on the Apostles because he didn't believe she was really a Nun.  This shot is after he asked her which one was the cutest apostle (Paul).  So who is this lady really?  A little hunting on IMDB (surprisingly I found her through the Wings episode, NOT the Monk episode) turns up a Brooke Adams...an actress and WIFE of Tony Shalhoub.  Is that jealousy I now sense in the face of Antonio pictured above?  She has made appearances in 5 episodes of Monk and was in Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978).  She also turned down an offer to be one of the original Charlies Angels.  You learn things on IMDB.  

Here is a picture of the happy couple:

And with that, I should probably go get a life.  Although I will close with this: I have a family friend who recently got into The Waltons.  I'm assuming this happened through Netflix, but in the few weeks I was visiting home she mentioned the show a few (hundred) times.  Last I saw on facebook she had gone to a conference or event where she met some of the cast.  Laugh if you must but I can now understand.  And you know what?  I bet she made there day: a girl in her early 20s, who wasn't even BORN when the show was running and now she is a huge fan.  Thank you Netflix for reviving the paychecks of yesterday's silver screen.  And if there is ever a cast reunion of Wings anywhere on the eastern seaboard, I will be there.  I will be there.  

P.S.  A shoutout to Meg Morely Walter of I Should Be Deserving to be to Mars as my first follower.  An honor, really.  Her blog is hilarious.  And another shoutout to Missy for making the first comment!  Here is a link to HER blog, also awesome (I found some cloth flower tutorials that changed my life).  Sorry these weren't big enough deals to mention in separate posts.  Deal with it.