Not Sew Simple

I have a problem. Maybe you, like me, have the same problem. I have a hard time saying no to new projects.

 Hopefully I am not alone. There must be quite a few 'Yes, I Can' people out there and that is a good thing, but sometimes our plate overfloweth. I have wild admiration for people whose plate of life is proportionally fixed.

 My husband's plate is proportionally fixed. He cruises through life with a realistic approach - helping when he can, don't get me wrong, but not spreading himself thin.

 I, on the other hand, am like Welcome Back Kotter's Arnold Horshack when a problem arises and a volunteer is needed to fix it.  Ooo, ooo, ooo, Mr. Kotter, pick me, pick me!

 I am not sure what makes me tick and why I am that way. Truth is, I genuinely like to help people, but often I need a few more hours in the day to get everything done. And more often than not, some things just don't.

 My recent undertaking has been a sewing project. A few years ago, a fellow Tamburitzan dance group mom found a bag of Beanie Baby dolls and accessories in our costume storage room. (Obviously a project of another 'yes' person who had a vision but for one reason or another, never reached completion.) The dolls were going to be donated or thrown out, but when I made eye contact with these red headed dolls I knew throwing them out was not going to happen. Not on my watch. I was going to see this project through.

 The dolls were going to get the extreme ethnic makeover they needed to make some little kid happy and hopefully make the group a few dollars toward our general fund. One problem, I am not a crafter. I make little things here and there, but not seriously. I don't measure. I only sew by hand and there's the lack of time issue.

 Well, the doll discovery was two years ago. They got moved around from shelf to shelf in my house. Once I moved them for the fourth time I got motivated. No doll left behind was my new mantra, but I knew I needed help.

 A couple things happened this year that created a perfect storm of get 'r done. My daughter offered to help me and a fellow dance mom was willing to put her superior crafting skills to the test and spearhead the design process. We wanted to create Eastern European looking dolls - girls and boys - in costumes that we would make.

 This would be a challenge because neither my daughter nor I knew how to use the sewing machine we were recently bequeathed, but our enthusiasm and determination made up for our lack of skill. Luckily, our fearless leader was able to give us a few pointers before sending us off with our part of the project: the doll skirts and aprons.

 During the next couple months our task proved a little more challenging than we anticipated. Our deadline, luckily, was pushed back to the first week of June, due to timing issues, which gave my daughter and I more time to discover we were probably in over our heads. But she is stubborn like me and we weren't going down without a fight.

 After buying some sewing do dads, downloading the sewing machine manual and utilizing the crucial help of a friend visiting from out of town, our portion of the project was completed. Six skirts and six aprons - done. I cannot wait to see these dolls on display this weekend at a local ethnic festival. I hope I get the satisfaction of seeing just one little face light up as her parent allows her to chose one for her very own. (I don't mean my daughter either who has already picked out one she plans to buy herself.)

 I have wanted to make clothes since I was in high school and even bought my own antique sewing machine, just for that purpose. In college, I hand sewed a pillow case dress, which ended up being way too short, and the dream went into hibernation. Although the dream was resurrected in doll form, who knows what it might have inspired for my daughter.

 Sometimes my plate of life doth runneth over and sometimes it can be overwhelming, but with a little help from my friends, along with making adorable dolls, I made incredible memories. I am proud of what we accomplished and I am also happy to have tried something new and have something amazing to show for it.

Midlife At The Oasis

We have waited a long time for this. We all hung in there when it seemed like summer would never arrive. But it arrived all right in full force this past week with temps close to the 90's. Well, we could complain about that too, but many of us are holding our tongues. We are happy and don't want to tempt a return of the snow, cold and bleakness the past winter brought.

It has been a time to plant flowers, redd up, and get our homes looking less like abandoned dwellings with no signs of life. After a day of yard work, my husband and I sat on our front porch and he said, "We just don't take advantage of our porches enough." I said, "Yeah, you are right." Then I realized it has only been a few weeks since we saw flakes of snow. Yes, friends it was April 20 something when I wrote about my sad little daffodils covered in slush.

So with the rejuvenation warm temperatures bring, I am once again trying to create my oasis. This is something I started last year. I wanted to create a space in my backyard where I could "get away". I utilized my carport and placed a chair, carpet, some flowers and a few decorations so I could have a little retreat when the day called for a little break.

This project died a slow death as a mid-summer storm soaked the carpet before I could remove it. My son's sandbox overflowed one too many times creating a smattering of brownish/black pockets of sand around my spot of solace. (You would think the sand would be a perfect addition for an oasis, but not so much when it is mixed with dirt, chalk and grass.)

And I forgot to mention, the toys, toys, toys, (yes, I am channeling Grinch narrator Boris Karloff in my head). The Jing Tinglers, Flu Floopers and Tar Tinkers were all over my space and they seemed to multiply as the summer went on.  I would have welcomed the Dr. Seuss character to come down from his hill, with his dog Max, and pack up his sleigh with all my kids' junk. In fact, I would have bagged it up and loaded it myself. (Oops, I think my heart just shrunk two sizes.)

Looking back, I have realized the carport was not a good space to set up my getaway. This year, I am trying something a little bit different. I have set up my side porch with chairs and cushions, flowers, candles and a little table. Of course this is another high traffic area but, unless you live in a mansion, you cannot really separate yourself from the rest of your family. At least for my kids, the side porch is somewhere that helps people get to where they want to go and isn't usually the destination.

Don't get me wrong. I love my family, but I just haven't had a place to call my own for nearly two decades. Especially this time of year, after being cooped up all winter long, it is nice to have somewhere to look at the sky, listen to the birds and feel the sun. There is so much beauty in the early spring/summer,  I just can't stand it!

But, I happen to be an aesthetics person so I have to set the mood for all this enjoyment. It doesn't quite work when you are surrounded by clutter, sitting in a folding chair resting on a soggy carpet.

For right now, I am lovin' Oasis 2018. It is by no means perfect, recent patch job had to be completed on cement wall and I could use about 2 feet of extra width, but the view is spectacular. There is an all toys in must go out rule and each night, before bed, I've been doing a sweep to keep my Shangri-la - Shangri-lovely.

So if you are like me - we need to stay the course. Claim our space and remain vigilant. We've got to try and get away every day and soak in the summer - it took a long time to come.

Husband's charcoal bag already infringing on Oasis 2018.

Nice Day For A Royal Wedding

Harry and Megs are getting married tomorrow. No, they are not friends of mine. I am talking about Prince Harry (formally known as His Royal Highness Prince Henry Charles Albert David ) and American actress Meghan Markle. I came up with Megs, you think it will stick? Remember, you read it here first!

Will you be watching the televised ceremony? Do you care?

I dropped the ball on the festivities this weekend. I was going to take my mom and daughter to the Carnegie Science Center where they will broadcast the festivities on their large screen with surround sound. There will be English snacks, mimosas, make your own crown craft and a royal guard for a photo op. We wanted to go. We talked about going. We knew we would have to get up really early due to the time difference. That wasn't going to stop us.

But... as of last Sunday, it was sold out and guess who did not get tickets? Yep, it was me.

No worries. Plan BW (British wedding) in effect. Instead of going to the Science Center we are going to enjoy the wedding from my living room. (I'm pulling out all the stops on this one.) English tea, scones, our own mimosas, not shy with the champagne mind you, will be offered in Keleschenyi Castle where the dress code is jammies and tiaras. It will be more comfortable and less expensive than the other option and the bathroom is just around the corner, where cleanliness is of the utmost importance. (Hee, hee, if my sons remember to put the seat down and perform the royal flush.)

Some people in my family don't understand my fascination with British royalty. I have only Princess Diana to blame. Watching her wedding on television back in 1981 (when I was all of six years of age) it was a true life fairy tale. Remember in those days there were only three Disney Princesses so a little girl could get bored. Diana's dress was that of bedtime stories and Prince Charles was dashing in his black Royal Navy uniform. (Yes, I was crushin' on that future scoundrel, but I digress.)

The wedding was just so beautiful and the couple seemed so in love. Yes, there had to be a happily ever after after all of that, right?

Wrong! But, many look back at Diana and Charles' wedding day as something magical and that is what we buy into...the magic. What girl doesn't want that slipper to fit? Doesn't want the wedding dress train that's four miles long? Doesn't want that kiss - you know, the one that takes your breath away?

Well, ladies and gentlemen, soon enough we find out the truth about fairy tales and the magic is well, sometimes hard to find. But that is the truth if you are a commoner or a royal. We saw that first hand as the marriage of Diana and Charles unraveled. I learned the truth the day after my wedding. My husband and I were already bickering because we were sleep deprived, stressed out and walking miles and miles around New York City when we should have been laying on a beach somewhere. (Honeymoon fail, booking 3 day trip to Big Apple instead of just going back to our apartment near Virginia Beach.)

So, yes, we know the truth about what is reality and what is fantasy, but it is fun to get lost in the fantasy even if just for a day. It'll be nice to watch and run our own commentary as the people arrive at the church in their fancy duds. (I remember some of the ghastly headpieces, called fascinators, worn at Prince William and Kate's wedding - some on top of the heads of his own cousins!) At my home viewing, my mom, daughter and I will have hats and tiaras, which we will change as we see fit. Plus, we will practice our queen wave - as my husband serves us English breakfast made to order.

I'll bring out my Prince Charles scrapbook of newspaper clippings I made when he came to the Pittsburgh area back in 1988. (Don't judge! I was only 13 and apparently bored as hell.) Just last year, I found out Charles and I walked the same halls, decades apart, over at Steel Valley High School, where I have covered quite a few events for The Valley Mirror. It was quite a delight when history teacher Mark Fallon showed me the photo collage, which hangs in the school, of the prince's visit to Munhall and the time he spent with the students.

I will also bring out my commemorative tea cup from Charles and Di's wedding. The cup is a treasure bestowed on me, from my college roommate's mom, years ago. I have never drank anything out of this cup for fear of discoloration,  and the chance of breakage, but maybe just maybe, for this one special day, I'll drink my English Breakfast Tea out of it. Cheerio and sip sip!

So to Harry and Megs, may you have many years of happiness together and to you dear British royal family - thank you for continuing to give us fairy tale moments to celebrate with you and reasons to wear a fancy hat at 6 a.m. on a Saturday.

Speaking Words of Wisdom

It is graduation season and Facebook is awash with college commencement photos. In the weeks ahead, high school graduations will follow suit. It is often time to impart words of wisdom to young men and women closing one chapter of their lives and embarking on the next few hundred pages.

I know my parents imparted important lessons to me over the years but I can't remember any exact phrases that I can quote. My Dad taught me never to quit and always be on time and my Mom taught me not to leave the house without a little lipstick on and if you are having a bad day, getting a shower can be just the thing you need to feel a little better.

Their precepts have come to mind many times over the years, especially when I am running late and am not wearing any makeup. But there are a few proverbs I've collected that have stuck with me for one reason or another. These three phrases are so random and the people who shared them were in my orbit only briefly, but their words have been immortalized in my mind. I'll start in chronological order.



Pick to win, don't pick your friends.

This phrase came from my summer gym instructor back in the 90's. Many kids opted to take summer gym to free up a period during the year to take another class, like a foreign language or additional math credit. While there were many academics in this group, there were also kids that had failed gym during the year so the student body was a bit diverse.

I was not a sporty kind of gal and my skills were limited, but I always gave it my best try. One day we were playing volleyball and I was chosen to be a team captain. I was so excited to get this opportunity, I usually didn't, and I looked around and skill never came into consideration when picking teammates. As I was happily picking my limited talent team, I heard the instructor Mr. Hagedus say, "Bishop, pick to win! Don't pick your friends."

I thought that was terrible advice and although in the end we lost miserably, I had a better time loosing with friends than I would have if I had won with acquaintances. I have not really been in it to win it over the years and I feel my friends have picked me, which makes me the winner.


You can't always be Superman, sometimes you've gotta be Clark Kent.

This one I heard at my first 'real' job. I was fortunate to work for the Municipal Authority of Westmoreland County for three summers while I was in college. I worked with a great bunch of people and had some pretty interesting experiences. I worked in the office with a wonderful group of ladies who handled a variety of duties from taking payments to answering phones. They would take down complaints and send a crew out to handle water problems that came up during the day.

One of the guys on the crew, who went by the nickname Turk, became overwhelmed one day when it seemed like the calls kept coming in and he was being pushed to the limit. Most of the conversations between the office ladies and the guys happened over a two way radio, but this day Turk came in personally. He told the ladies in so many words that he couldn't fix everyone's problem. (Hence the Superman, Clark Kent reference.) This phrase has come to mind many times with my three kids, especially when something has gone wrong and I am expected to fix it. Sometimes even moms need a day to keep the cape in the drawer.


You can have it all, just not at the same time.

These wise words of wisdom came from a co-worker when I was expecting my first child. Bonita's children were older and she finally had the chance to focus on her career. She told me as I was preparing to go from a full time job to a part time job that it wasn't a myth that women could have it all, but that I would have to be patient and enjoy the seasons of motherhood and everything would come together, in its time.

Bonita had such an excitement about her to be back on the job and thankful for the opportunities that were presented. I have been lucky because having a career in communications has allowed me to work part time for 15 years. I have been able to dabble in both radio and print, but I also had to take on other jobs including cashier and caretaker when flexible jobs in my field just weren't there. At times there have been highs and at times there have been lows, but I've kept Bonita's words in my mind along the way.

Hopefully like me, you, dear reader, have been blessed with individuals that have imparted wisdom, which continues to guide you along the bumpy road of life.

1992 - KB's high school graduation day with little sis.
(Rockin' my silver cords!)

Goodbye Mushroom Steak Special

I know nothing stays the same but if you're willing to play the game it's coming around again. -CS

Carly Simon hit the nail on the head with these lyrics from her 1987 hit Coming Around Again but for a few decades something did stay the same. It was a little eatery in McKeesport called Dot's Family Restaurant. It was a place where my family got quarts of chicken soup when we were sick, ate mushroom steak specials with grandma, and enjoyed a good Salisbury steak.

On Monday, Dot's closed it's doors for good. Yes, Carly. I know. NOTHING stays the same.

Some may say, "Kristen, aren't you being a little dramatic?" This is what my sister wanted to say when I called her at 7:00 a.m. last Thursday after I learned of the news. I said something to the effect of, "Dot's has pulled a Kennywood and is closing in four days. (A reference to Kennywood management waiting until the final operating weekend of the 2017 season to tell riders it was curtains for the Log Jammer.)

My younger sis was not happy to be awoken over something 'so trivial' and our conversation ended abruptly. But she redeemed herself minutes later when she texted, 'I'll go there for lunch with you tomorrow if you want.'"

I'm six years older than her so her lack of nostalgia is not her fault . I've had six more years of Dot's soup, clearer memories of dinners with grandma, and age has left me more sentimental. But it wasn't just the food or the memories which made Dot's so special.

It was the fact that in the forty some years that I have been going there, the décor basically stayed the same. The same orange bouncy booths, the same 70's style light fixtures, the same men and women silhouette signs on the restrooms. There were some minor additions here and there over the years, but if ever there was a time machine, Dot's was it.

So my sister and I went to lunch on Friday and heard other customers and restaurant staff lament the closing. I really didn't take in too much of the chatter. I am not exactly sure what the reason is for the restaurant closing or if I really want to know.  I was just happy to be there for one of my final visits, sitting in the booth I remember sharing with my grandma, taking photos of all the things I will miss.

The following day I went back for a rare dinner out with my husband and our kids. We all squeezed in an orange booth, at my request, even though a table would have been more comfortable. It was an intimate meal for sure and amazingly, my kids cleared their plates. They even spared a few fries for me who, as fate would have it, had a dinner that got lost in the shuffle. When my second mushroom steak special in two days finally came, after the rest of my brood had eaten, I was surprised to see it was taken off the bill. I wasn't going to complain. It was my last time eating there after all.

I made a special trip back to Dot's on their final day to get one last quart of chicken soup. They asked me if I wanted it heated and I said, "No".  I knew the quart was going in the freezer to be enjoyed at a later date when maybe someone isn't feeling well and needs a little Dot's magic to put them on the road to recovery.  I make a pretty good chicken soup of my own, but it's not like this special recipe. I'm not even sure what makes it so good.  Is it the thin noodles or the little carrot bites? I have one last chance to find out.

Yes, things change but I liked having somewhere I could go that didn't. Maybe that is one of the reasons Dot's had to close. Maybe the vintage décor didn't appeal to a younger hipper crowd, but if those millennials could have given that mushroom steak special a chance, I know they would have Twittered, Instagrammed and Snap Chatted the hell out of it, so much so that it would have gone viral. MSS DOT'S OMG!

I drove past Dot's Monday evening and both parking lots were full of customers for their last dinner rush. It made me happy and sad at the same time. I have now added steak specials to my list of perfect foods I'll never order again from establishments that are gone for good; along with Irene's Sicilian pizza (former restaurant in East McKeesport) and Mr. Food meatball sandwiches (former deli/mini grocery in Johnstown) . But for now, as long as I can get Murphy's wings, Luciano's pizza and grilled stickies at any Eat n Park, I'll be coming around again.

A Whipple Reflection

Life got a little crazy for my family two months ago.  In some ways it seems so much longer than that considering what has been happening. On February 14, my father had something called the Whipple procedure. Don't worry if you are not in the know. I hadn't heard of it either.

This particular procedure is used to remove tumors from the pancreas. It is a complicated surgery with too many details, which I won't bore you with, but basically after having the Whipple, you wake up with less than what you started with, and I am not just talking about the tumor. (If you Google it, you can get all the amazing details and you can even watch the surgery if you are up for that.)

Once the tumor was analyzed we learned it was cancer, but dad's doctor is confident that it was caught early and all the bad stuff is gone. The chemotherapy has begun, which is just a precaution, in case there are any lingering cancer cells, and in five months, my dad will be able to get back to normal.

I have learned so much since February. I have learned that the pancreas has three parts: the head, neck and tail. I have learned there are quite a few body parts people can live without. I have also learned that angels are around disguised as people, especially in hospitals.

A stranger hugged me when I was alone and needed a shoulder to cry on. A stranger made an elevator full of people, including my mom, laugh when we needed some comic relief. And nurses, don't get me started on nurses, we had a few who certainly have invisible wings. They treated my dad like he was part of their own family. Their care and concern made a not so good situation bearable.

My dad's five hour surgery happened on Valentine's Day and his first chemotherapy was on his 45th wedding anniversary. Those special days have even more significance now that we are on this journey. There was some wiggle room on the chemo start date, but my dad didn't want to wait. The sooner you start, the sooner you are done and that finish line will only get closer with each week.

So many families have their own stories about cancer and the aftermath. No two stories are exactly the same but it is comforting to know that we are not alone. A lot of helpful advice has been passed along and words of encouragement. It is like a warm blanket you can take with you. The cancer/chemo club is not one you choose to be a part of, but once you are in you find yourself in some pretty amazing company.

When my dad was serving our country in Vietnam, he made a sign that said U.S.A. Each day he was there, he would color a section of each letter in as a countdown to when he would be back home. Nolan and Nick made him a chemo sign to mark off each treatment as he moves closer to the goal of being cancer free and capable of enjoying all the blessings life can bring.

Let It Go!

I know I am not alone when I say I have a sad little patch of daffodils that just gave up. They are hanging their festive yellow heads down to the ground like they have had it. I know guys. I get it.

Photo by Nolan Keleschenyi

I normally look forward to the daffodils coming up each spring. I inherited them from the lady who we bought our house from 13 years ago this month.  Their vibrant green stems usually pop up underneath a blanket of last year's faded mulch, ushering in the newness of the season.

But this year was different.  When I would walk past them I would say, "Not yet, guys. Hang in there." Our spring weather has been so wacky, I didn't want their beauty to be wasted on a winter that refuses to leave. But they didn't listen. They bloomed right on schedule and have been covered with more snow than they probably ever have in the years we have lived here.

Like the flowers, I am trying to shake the cold weather blues. Right now, as I am writing, I am wearing a coat and scarf. I don't want to do that anymore. Not that my pasty white skin is a great alternative, but my pores want to breathe. We get an 80 degree day, like over the weekend and then bam a coating of snow.  I don't want winter pinching me every couple days. This April Fools joke has been the worst and no one is laughing.

What can we do about this? Absolutely nothing. We are Mother Nature's hostages and are waiting for someone, anyone to rescue us. And the kicker is that since the time change we have more hours of daylight to enjoy the gloom. At least before, we could nod off early and call it a day. "What it's only 5:30 p.m.? Well, it is dark outside so I am going to bed." Now it is light until about 8 p.m. and I cannot go to bed with any brightness coming through my curtains and a view of sad foliage trying to survive in unfavorable conditions.

Of course if it wasn't snowing in April we would find something else to complain about, but Tuesday's gripe of the day was the white stuff I had to clear off my windshield. My little guy and I were out with our Steelers' ice scraper taking that layer of frozen precipitation off of our vehicle. All of this done in the shadow of our little daffodils, completely drooped over from the weight of the icy slush.

Then I have what I think is a cherry tree in my backyard. Its lovely pink blossoms are in full splendor, despite the winter that will not quit. I love when the tree blooms yet I know the beauty is temporary. The gale force winds from Sunday night blew quite a few of those blooms off the tree which made our car, parked in the driveway, look like it was decorated for a wedding, like the kind Elsa from Disney's Frozen would have. Pink buds and a blanket so snow - I'm sorry but I'm ready to Let It Go!

I'm not sure what to make of this horrible spring. I think we all just want some consistency with extended warm weather, which we are desperately in need of, to boost our spirits. Have you heard anyone say, "Oh, great, more snow," and mean it? Or, "Yay, another coating! This is the best spring ever!" If you have please let me know. I would like to meet this unique individual and find out what makes them tick.

Maybe like me you have turned to sweets to overcome this weather confusion. Between this week's pint of Ben and Jerry's and the double donuts at work on Tuesday, this technique is keeping me going by adding some extra insulation to my weary bones. If I still have to wear a winter coat then another helping of dessert please. I'm drowning my sorrows in sugary goodness.

So where does it end? Who knows. According to the National Weather Service, the latest snowfall on record here in Pittsburgh was on May 31, 1893. It was only a trace of snow 125 years ago, but 0.5 inches of snow fell on May 25, 1925 and three inches were measured on May 9, 1966. It looks like we might have to wait until June to call it officially over for winter. But that is ok. From there we will have three months before it starts all over again. The earliest snow was recorded on September 23, 1989.