After a bit of soul-searching, I have made the decision to be closer to my family. In exactly thirteen days, my father and I will drive the 400+ miles from Beekman, New York to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

Pittsburgh at night

The desire to be closer to my family has haunted me since 2008, but my mother's stroke pulled it all into focus for me. My future with Joe is a large gray area, which makes me sad. However, his mother is ill, and each of us is doing what we must -- while being supportive of each other's decisions and needs.

Rather than look at this as an ending, we are looking at this move as a beginning.

Today is the in between day.

One day that falls between my birthday and Joe's birthday. With all that is going for both of us in terms of work and family, spending time alone with him was the best gift yesterday.

I do not care for hoopla for my birthday, but it was very pleasant to get so many birthday wishes on my Facebook wall. I do not check my work email during the weekend -- and my Facebook account is linked to that email -- so I was buried in a slew of wishes.

Thank you!

Last month my boss announced that she would be leaving prior to Fall semester. Within a few days of that, our Director called a meeting of the three of us. Given that my boss and I are a two-person office (under the umbrella of a larger office), I assumed that the meeting was to discuss transition, etc. Alas, the meeting was called so that my two superiors to air their hurt feelings that I went "by the book" when I took my Family & Medical Leave. You see, they wanted to be privy updates; they wanted to be able to help me navigate the rough emotional landscape of my mother's stroke.

In almost any other professional environment, getting too personal is considered unprofessional, but here, it is expected. In fact, it appears that being too professional is career suicide. I have not been approached about my boss' position, nor have I been given much more than polite and restrained greetings. If I were not so preoccupied with my mother's recovery, I might be concerned for my job security.

My mother is recovering, and we are all coping. The distance is difficult for me, but we talk daily. The distance has softened my hard "by the book" resolve, and I am barely able to read two pages of My Stroke of Insight without fighting back tears.

Read this book. If you do not know a stroke survivor, chances are you will in the future. This book is a lesson in recovery and patience.

After too many days of picking through hospital waiting room paraphernalia and abandoned issues of Car & Driver and Reader's Digest, I was on the hunt for some hospital-friendly reading. A friend lent me Don't Tell Mama! and Twilight.

I was less than enthusiastic about the latter, so I jumped into the Italian-American writing. The print was too small for my stressed-out, sleep-deprived eyes, and too many of the stories were as dry and boring as over-boiled meat. It could have been my frame of mind at the time.

I skipped to a Wally Lamb story, only to discover it was the detailing of his mother's stroke and subsequent decline. With my mother hospitalized from a stroke, the story was a cathartic exercise in reading through tears.

I needed to avoid further writings about mothers, death, illness, and depressing topics, so I turned to teenaged vampires. In spite of rather uninspired and weak writing, I ploughed through the entire series in five days.

Currently, I am reading Food Matters by Mark Bittman, which is one of those problematic books that is both nonfiction and cookbook. Maybe I just need to dive into some silly Chic Lit?

It always stuck me as strange how the weather became part of the discussion regarding the events of September 11, 2001. But it must be something in us that forces us to look for the beauty or the normalcy in a day that goes horribly wrong.

As I replay the events of Saturday morning, April 11th, I am struck by the truth of how fast things changed. It is trite to say that life can change in an instant, but now that I have experienced this firsthand, it does not seem trite at all.

My mother suffered a stroke that morning before Easter, and there is no way to describe what I felt as I witnessed it. In was nothing short of feeling as if I were that cartoon character whose body is broken into pieces -- all of which are moving in different directions. There is such a swirl of emotions that you almost feel calm.

Five weeks later, and I am back from Family & Medical Leave. My mother is better in some senses, but suddenly health problems are cropping up. It is maddening to be so far from my parents at such a time. Who will drive me mother to her doctor appointments? Who will pack my father's lunch? Who will decipher the medical speak for both of them?

I am thankful that both of my parents are living, but this event has made their -- not to mention my own -- mortality seem too tangible.

Apparently, my boss is not the only person stumped by the fact that I do not own a pair of jeans, so is Materfamilias. First off, I know this sounds ridiculous to those of you who regard jeans as a sort of "uniform" -- that answer to just about every sartorial question, but I am not alone. Until her pregnancy, I believe that Valentina owned and wore only skirts -- to the exclusion of jeans and trousers.

In fact, when Valentina and I were planning to meet for the first time, we giggled (via email) to each other "I'll be the one not wearing pants!".

So, why no jeans (or trousers)? Well, much of has to do with my childhood, my body shape, and my personal style. Skirts were the easiest option (for me) during the years I trained in ballet. Although, now that I think about it, I owned a few pairs of jeans, corduroy jeans, and trousers in high school...

But, I tend to feel most comfortable in skirts and dresses. I also think they flatter my figure the most. Largely, jeans and trousers really do not fit my personal style that incorporates a serious love of vintage. If I did not have to work at an office, I could easily lounge around in satin gowns ala Jean Harlow in Dinner at Eight.

I am not exactly a "glamour girl", but wearing a skirt or a dress gives the impression that one is dressed (up), rather than merely dressed. I feel more pulled together, more feminine even, in a skirt or a dress.

My favorite bitch, Leigh gets it. Give me Dita's maribou over denim any day!

April is my least favorite month. The weather is a bizarre display of two or three seasons within just a few hours, but the season begs us to come out and play. I was tagged by both Sunny of Morning's Light and Mardel of Purls and Murmurs (although she tagged me on her other blog -- she maintains three!).

I am not following the rules with regard to replacing and reworking questions. In fact, I deleted several questions because who needs to read this about me. Also, I am tagging only two people -- Tanya and Nancy -- just to piss them off.

Do you nap? Napping is not natural to me. I only nap if I am ill, or after Joe and I have enjoyed alone time on a weekend afternoon.

What was the last thing you bought? A Bobbi Brown cream eyeshadow.

What are you listening to right now? The office clock that runs slowly unless I am at lunch.

What is your favourite weather? I am a sucker for gloomy and doomy. Thunderstorms are fantastic!


What’s on your bedside table? A lamp, a water pitcher and glass, lip balm, and my reading glasses.

What are you currently reading? I just finished A Homemade Life, so I need to find something sweet and charming.

Name the things you can’t live without. Oxygen, water, food, human contact.

What would you like to have in your hands right now? A sizable severance package.

What is your favourite tea flavour? Lavender Earl Grey is a staple. My current favorite is Teavana's Azteca Fire.

What would you like to get rid of? Everything. It would be utterly freeing to strike a match and walk away from stuff.

What is your favorite scent of candle? Illume's Coconut Milk Mango.

What did you want to become as a child? An archeologist, a nun, and a ballerina.

What's your favorite brand of jeans? I do not own a pair of jeans.

Say something to the person/s who tagged you: Sunny, thank you for allowing me to vent! Mardel, you are a wonderful and delightfully cool person.

In spite of all signs to the contrary (see right), the Spring season is upon us.

In the past, I found Spring to be a triffle depressing. Who knows why, but I do not feel that way this year. In fact, I am anxiously awaiting the arrival of the season as if it were bringing me a new job and a mended retirement portfolio.

In a fit of Spring Fever -- not to mention a desire to make use of stash yarn -- I cast on for Lorelei from Yarn Play. I am using the Rowan Calmer reclaimed from my Ribby Shell, and it is going to be a close call if I have enough yarn.

I have reached the divide for front, back, and armholes, and I am not entirely certainly of the neckline. I think the pattern is quite pretty, however, I suspect that a wider U-neck (vs. the V-neck) could be more flattering.

I have a bit of time considering that there is roughly 10" of snow that needs to melt before I can even think about wearing a sleeveless top.

In spite of a childhood spent in the Catholic church and a youthful desire to be a nun (and a ballerina), I am not religious. Neither are several of my friends, but with Lent upon us, we often use this time to to break a habit or to form a new one.

One friend is giving up sugar. Another is giving up meat. A forty-day Raw Food Diet would be a great challenge, but sustaining dietary extremes is difficult for me. Afterall, I share a life with a man who regards individually wrapped slices of plastic as "cheese".

I contemplated Baron Baptiste's 40 Days to Personal Revolution as the perfect undertaking, but I do not own the book. Can I start a day or two late? Will I lose points?

What are you working on in your life?

She's a Maniac

My relationship with Pittsburgh, the city of my birth, has been a strange one. Growing up there I knew I wanted to leave, but living away has me a touch homesick.

While I have my fair share of criticisms of the city -- Yes, it is a city where sweatpants and over-sized sports jerseys are appropriate restaurant wear -- , it annoys me beyond words when others talk shit about the city of my birth. The Pittsburgh Steelers are an embodiment of the city. Underestimated, tough, and always surprising.

I grew up in the age of the Steel Curtain, but it is a complete surprise to all of my friends that I still keep an eye on the Pittsburgh Steelers. Last night, I was the picture of the much-discussed Steelers Cult of Loyalty.

To know me is to need smelling salts at the mention of me
1) watching a sporting event of my own volition
2) doing so at a sports bar
But the secret is out. I am a rabid fan -- type who screams for blood and curses the opposing team. After three accusations of being a johnny-come-lately fan by a slug in a New York Jets XXXXXL jersey, I gave him the full-on hate glare and simply retorted, "I was born and raised in Pittsburgh."

To come from Pittsburgh is to know the pure joy of hoping and believing that anything is possible -- even with only 43 seconds to go.