In the meantime...

The holidays were great, I refuse to apologize for not blogging.  So there.

I hearted our tree.

We went to Utah for Thanksgiving and played with my bajillions of neices and nephews.  Really, true joy is becoming an insta-Aunt.  Saw some good friends, and drove in a Eclipse convertible: thank you rental car company for running out of your lowest costing economy cars so we could drive around and laugh at how we must look like tools.  This was not helped when I had the car one morning and was trying to park it near BYU campus to say hi to old friends and professors, and had a REALLY hard and embarrassing time trying to parallel park with nothing but blind spots behind me.  Again, this image was also not helped when Ben thought it would be funny to let down the hood every time we drove up to a family member's house.

Brigham is pretty much always a blur.

We spent Christmas at home, just the two of us.  I was worried that it would feel so lonely, but it was actually really great.  We skyped with both of our families throughout the day which actually made for a more family-filled holiday than if we had been one place or the other.  Minus the hugs--but we made up for that by hosting the First Annual Geilman Christmas Day Nerf Gun War.  Thank you Ben for the guns, but not for the many times I've been surprise hit since that first Christmas morn.  I love you.

I ended my internship with the Interior Design firm and have been trying to find employment since then and generally figure out my life.  Oh the tangle webs we weave.  I've applied to a ton of jobs, became very intimate with the workings of LinkedIn, got hired by a Temp Agency, had a few interviews, networked like a mad dog, really considered starting my own business, and still haven't secured steady employment.  Although I have become distressed some days, I haven't given up yet.  I've stayed busy with some projects and stayed grateful that my husband DOES have a great job.  Here is one thing I've been working on:

I look pretty arwful because I didn't shower (this was dirty work!) and wasn't aware that she would be filming.  For some reason I also couldn't speak very clearly and am afraid I come off as all sorts of unprofessional.  Oh well.

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.