Hello, Its Me...NOT

It is a good thing my friends/family know me.

I mean even you, dear reader, probably would be scratching your head if my blog encouraged you to sign up for a $50,000 government loan that you never have to pay back.

"That doesn't sound like Kristen." You might say.

Don't get me wrong. I would love to get my hands on some free cash and I certainly would try to pass on the good fortune to people I know, but...we all know there are a lot of scams out there and if it sounds too good to be true it probably is!

Let's go back a few days. Last Saturday, I was out and about wearing my reporter hat, when the first text came in. "Did you send me a message on Facebook?" "Nope," I replied to one of the moms in my kids' Tamburitzan group. I didn't really think anything of her message until I got home.

When I logged onto Facebook there was a post from my aunt. Did you send me a message? I responded right away. "Nope, it wasn't me." Then minutes later there was a voice mail on my phone. "Kristen, can you call me when you have a chance."

All the evidence pointed to the fact I had been hacked. Me - a part of a sneaky scheme to snooker people out of their personal information and get their cash. Wow, that definitely does not sound like me.

So right away my husband and I started our investigation. We were able to log in and see where and what devices I had used to access my account. That is where we noticed someone in Philadelphia had my been on my page two hours prior.

Weird, I thought. I had only been as far as Churchill that day and yet my footprint extended all the way to the land of cheesesteaks, Rocky and the Eagles.

There was nothing out of the ordinary on my page or in my messages, which was strange. I have a whole thread of past messages I have sent and nothing new popped up regarding anything about loans. The one friend, who I spoke with over the phone, said she and I (the imposter) were messaging back and forth but there was nothing indicating any prior Facebook chats we had had. (Usually when you message someone and you have done so before, the previous thread appears before you start typing your message.)

So I changed my password and I posted a message on Facebook alerting my friends I had been hacked, but everything had been taken care of. Hacking into a Facebook account is nothing new. How many times have you gotten a new friend request from someone you already thought you had friended? That usually happens after someone has been hacked. It happens all the time but I didn't think it would ever happen to me. I really do not comment or post photos regularly and I basically use the social media site to keep track of all the happenings in the Valley Mirror coverage area.

My husband asked if I had done something irregular lately using my account. I did share a photo that a friend had shared, although I was not familiar with the person who was the original source of the photo. I have decided that I will no longer be sharing information from people I do not know. This makes me a little sad because Facebook is a great way to get information out about something that is lost, an event that is happening or just a good article to read. But this hacking incident has me thinking about the safety of my information.

I did receive an email message from the Facebook team. Apparently, someone reported a profile (Gina L.) they thought was impersonating me. "We’ve reviewed the profile that your friend reported and found that it isn't pretending to be you and doesn't go against our Community Standards. If you think we should take another look, please reply to this message and let us know."

Ah, yeah. I think maybe you should take another look. I have not completely read Facebook's Community Standards policy, but I would think impersonating someone and trying to get personal information from their friends is not a standard you would want in your community. So it wasn't this Gina L. person who you investigated. Can you keep looking until you find out who it is before someone else is a victim and actually gives out their personal information to a person they think is their friend?

Well, I guess Mark Zuckerburg is going to be very busy today trying to get to the bottom of this, but in the meantime, next time you share a funny cat video, make sure you trust the source because if not, you might find yourself, unknowingly, trying to get your friends to sign up for a free cruise around the world and all they have to do is enter their debit card pin number.

Roll With It

I almost hit the easy button.

You know that Staples commercial which features the big red easy button that customers are supposed to press to make their shopping experience as smooth as possible?

I joke with my husband that in life we always opt for the hard button - making daily experiences as complicated as possible.

This was the case a few weeks ago as we prepared for Easter. As usual we had planned on putting together our traditional Slovak basket of food to be blessed at church - the ham, kilbassa, Paska bread, nut, apricot and poppy seed rolls. My husband takes care of baking the bread and, in the past, had also taken care of the rolls.

We have not had good luck with our rolls. We have a family recipe that for some reason falls short each time. The dough on the top cracks or they don't raise enough or the filling oozes out of the sides. It is frustrating for sure, especially after you use almost a bag of flour and forget the price on walnuts these days!

This year my husband said, "I'm out. You want rolls - you can make them. Or make it easy on yourself and just buy them."

"Buy them?" I thought for a moment. Imagining the pure ease of just opening the package and placing them gently inside my basket. Now that is easy and I was starting to see the advantage to that kind of rogue living.

But then the little voice in my head starting making some chatter. "You come from a distinguished line of proud women bakers. Are you really going to throw in the towel? Are you going to shame the name of all that is Eastern European?"

So I was dealing with a mental tug-o-war. I figured I could buy them from a local church and at least justify my sixty dollar donation. But Holy Week is not the time to be looking for rolls from churches. By that time the ship has sailed. Now it was on to local bakeries. I found two options - one close by - one a bit of a drive. My husband made the decision seem so easy. "Please, just go to Patti's (Patti's Pasticceria in White Oak). It's close and you're done."

Oh if only I wasn't OCD. Friday morning I found myself driving around looking for cake yeast and poppy seed filling. I decided I wasn't going to use the family recipe. I was going off book. I picked a recipe from a cookbook my aunt bought me when I got my first apartment. It was a cookbook compiled by members of her church and each entry featured the parishioner's name and their special dish. It came down to Tom's Easy Nut Rolls or 2-Hour Rolls.

Nothing against Tom, but his yield was more than I needed. I didn't want to take the chance of having to cut the recipe in half and mess something up, again. So I went with Bev's 2-Hour Roll recipe and in two hours I was hoping to have some nice basket worthy specimen.

In honor of my Grandma Bishop, who always donned a bandana when she baked, I got my red headscarf and was almost ready to rock n' roll. But first.. I needed to pray. I needed a higher power to intercede on my behalf of my dough.

I asked my daughter to find the patron saint of baking and that is when we learned about Saint Honoratus of Port-le-Grand, France, who served as a bishop in the late sixth century. Apparently, after his death, praying to him helped stop floods and droughts ensuring a prosperous wheat crop. This made him a good friend to bakers.

There is even a cake named after the saint. The St. Honore cake was invented in Paris. It's a ring-shaped pastry filled with pastry cream and airy Italian meringue, topped with small cream puffs dipped in caramelized sugar, and draped with whipped cream. I don't know about you, but I'd wouldn't turn down a piece!

Anyway, my daughter and I prayed together and let the raising begin. I don't know if it was the recipe but, during the course of an hour,  the rolls tripled in size. I thought to myself even if they don't taste good, they sure will look good. When I cut them up, to put a few easy to snack on pieces in my basket, I did a taste test. To be honest, they could have used a little more filling but I was satisfied. Everyone who tasted them said they were good so I will used the recipe again - just add more of the good stuff.

So a special thank you to Bev for sharing her recipe and a special thank you to St. Honoratus. His feast is coming up on May 16. Are you thinking what I'm thinking? Ring shaped pastry filled with Italian meringue?

Do I Have To?

There are a few things in life which I have to do, but I would skip if I could.

I would skip going to the dentist, if I could, but a recent incident involving the loss of part of a tooth indicates a regular 6 month visit is probably necessary.

I would skip going to Wal-Mart, if I could, but I haven't gotten comfortable yet with buying my feminine products at Aldi. Meat yes, tampons no. Weird, huh?

But the thing I would skip most of all is going to a car dealership. I hate having to buy a car.

First, let me put things in perspective. Buying a car is a huge expense. I think that is what ruins it from the start. Since my husband and I do not go to the nearest car dealer with a briefcase full of 50s and 100 dollar bills ready to drop it on a Ferrari, the fun in car buying is already diminished.

My husband and I have had some bad experiences with car buying. Once we were strong armed into buying a car after being told we could not leave the salesman's office to even privately discuss our options. If we left - so did the deal.

Once, this hipster couple (before hipsters were even a thing) bought a Volkswagon Jetta we couldn't afford and then, less than a year later, we tried installing our first car seat. I cried when by pregnant stomach touched the dashboard. Bye bye, Jetta.

We have since embraced buying used vehicles and, in a way, that has opened up a world of security. There is not much wiggle room when it comes to price. Kelley Blue book tells you what it is worth and the internet allows a person to research any vehicle, stress free without even setting foot on a lot.

This past Monday, my husband and I began the search for our next van. We had one day to check out a couple options, in person, which means we had to finally do the dance and interact with salespeople.

It started out really well. Our first guy was very laid back. He was older, had a been there done that attitude and pretty much gave us our space. We took a test drive, got some paperwork and bada boom bada bing we were off to the next location. This is where it got interesting.

At our second location we were paired up with the "top gun" of salesman - young, slick and ready to make a sale. He was hungry and wanted to see us drive a van off of his lot. Initially, our interaction was pretty standard - test drive, some talk of figures, financing, but when we were ready to go, it was time to bring in the heavy - a guy who, just minutes before, walked across the showroom blasting "Eye of the Tiger" from his phone.

The boss man was in town, just for the day, and he had a pot of money to throw around as he saw fit. He offered to shave money off the cost of an extended warranty on the van. "But when I leave town tonight I take my money with me." It was like a deal we couldn't refuse. I saw a horse head in our future if we didn't agree to the terms.

Luckily, we saw through the smoke and left on our terms. Ultimately, it was about the vehicle. It was too much like what we already have and what we already have has been nothing but trouble. So we'll bide our time and wait for the van that feels right. The van, which will probably be our last, as our kiddos are growing fast.  Maybe down the line, my husband and I will have that suitcase filled with money so we can drop it on our 'empty nester' Ferrari. After putting three kids through college that doesn't seem likely but hey, a girl can dream.

Dragon's Den Coming Together in Homestead

On the outside,  St. Mary Magdalene Church in Homestead has not changed much in the almost four years since Giulia and Bill Petrucci took ownership. But once you walk through the doors, your jaw might drop a little. The Dragon's Den, an indoor rope course is taking shape and huge wooden poles that weigh 1800 pounds and extend 25 feet high, line the nave of the former Catholic church.

It has been a challenging process, as one would imagine, to take a church that is more than 100 years old, and had been vacant for 15 years, and transform it into a place kids can challenge themselves physically, mentally and socially.  The inspiration came from an outdoor activity park in Italy, near where Giulia is from. A few years back, her children, who at the time were ages 10 and 6, had an amazing experience and could not wait to tell her all about it.

"They said, 'We have done the most amazing thing. We were climbing on ropes, and drawbridges and zip lines. it was fantastic.'  I needed to see that. I went back and I was astounded," recalls Giulia.

She took pictures and videos and sent them to her husband. She also spoke with teachers who organized field trips to the park to get an educational perspective. Each platform had a different challenge the kids had to overcome. The skills, determination and sense of accomplishment she witnessed, even with her youngest child, made this seem like a dream worth pursuing, in Homestead.

From that point the dream involved bringing the designers of the Italian facility to Pittsburgh to specially design the course at St. Mary's. Giulia and Bill sat at their dining room table with the European designers and painstakingly thought out each aspect of the Dragon's Den, which takes its name from the mascot of the former St. Mary Magdalene School.

Due to the uniqueness of the project, many firms were interested in building this indoor course, but Giulia says, unfortunately, they did not follow through. That is when she and her husband decided to keep the project in the family, which includes the Dragon's Den Board of Directors, and build it themselves.

"We wanted to have the designers back.  They have a ton of experience and they can tell us exactly how to do it, how it's done," and between January 4 and the middle of February, Giulia's idea started to come to life, before her eyes. "It was a fantastic 40 days," she recalls.

The two month period came with many challenges. Getting the 25 feet poles in the building was the easy part, anchoring them to the walls, another story. Because of the safety issues involved, excessive time is being taken to make sure things are done properly. Each aspect of the rope course had to be approved by a structural engineer from the Department of Agriculture. But as of right now, a two week period in April is all that is needed to complete the second level of the course and move closer to  opening. All the pieces are precut and with the poles already being anchored to the walls, the assembly time will be a lot less than the first level.

In the meantime, work is happening behind the scenes as well to expand the board of directors to include individuals with a local connection. Within the next couple weeks, the nine person board will increase to thirteen, four of whom have ties to the Steel Valley area.

Treasurer Lisa Earle explains why the expansion is necessary. "Not only to get the word out but to help us adjust and tailor what we are going to be doing - the other programs later on and things like that." Giulia adds, "We are doing this for the community and you need to know the community you are going to help."

Many on the board have experience with non-profits and foundations and have been trying to encourage support of the Homestead project. Giulia says the idea is to be something the community can really take advantage of. "We have a place and a lot of non profits and schools have programs, but do not have a place. We really plan to partner with non profits to have even more to offer these children."

The vision is for the Dragon's Den to be open to the public a few nights a week and during weekends and then to serve as a field trip destination. Schools will be able to utilize the space and be provided a customized experience tailored just for them and the kids they are serving. For the local community, the facility will be a place for kids after school who may not be a traditional athlete, whose parents are working and may not have a place to go.

Kids will be able to chose their challenge level and progress each time they visit. The experience will also incorporate the unique architecture (brickwork, archways, terracotta medallions) of the Italian Renaissance style church, which is certified by the National Register of Historic Buildings. Bill says, "Someone that goes to church - those details are 25 to 30 feet away. These kids are going to be right up against this."

The slow process of the project does come with some limitations. Foundations are slow to back something, which is not yet up and running. Although Giulia says many groups and individuals have been generous in donating to the effort so far, more funds are needed. Once the course is built, many new expenses come to light: harnesses, helmets, staff and insurance.

"I'm sure the community is thinking 'when are they going to open?', but it is the same feeling for us. We just want to open and start making a difference because that's the reason why we started this huge project," explains Giulia."There are lots of people who are really connected to this place and can't wait to see those doors open, but we need help (additional funds) to see this through."

For more information on the Dragon's Den visit dragonsdenpgh.org.

An Indisputable Loss

I think many of us are anxious right now. Many of us are wondering about what is going to happen and how will we be affected.

The trial for Michael Rosfeld got underway this week.  If you live in the Pittsburgh area, his name needs no further explanation. He is the former East Pittsburgh police officer who fatally shot 17-year old Antwon Rose II last June.

I am not writing this to initiate a debate about what the jury should decide. I am praying for these men and women in the days ahead. I know their job is not going to be easy.

Many people were impacted by the protests that erupted following the June shooting. I am hoping we do not have to revisit this kind of expression. Antwon's mother has called for a peaceful period during the trial proceedings. Again, I pray people respect her wishes.

There are two sides to every story and this case is no different. But then there is the mother's story. That story only has one side. The side of loss. A heart with a piece missing, a void that will never be filled.

I have had contact over the years with a few women who have felt that loss - a loss I cannot imagine. Somehow they have foundt the strength to get out there and try to make a difference in the name of their children taken too soon.

I am inspired by these ladies. They cause me to be aware that what I have - my three amazing children - are on loan from God.

Last summer, I became very introspective because, as the mother of a 16-year-old, I know the kind of promise a teens' life holds. Will they chose to go to college? What career will they chose to excel at? Which one of their talents will allow them the chance to enjoy the amazing experiences life has to offer?

I remember being at the birthday celebration for Antwon that was held in Rankin last July on what would have been his 18th birthday. A table was decorated with items the young man treasured - his guitar, his writings, his skateboard.

 I stared at the table for the longest time, looking at these things any teen could have accumulated. It brought into focus the enormous loss to not only his family and his friends, but to the entire community.

At that moment I wanted to wrap my arms around my son and never let go. We don't know what life holds in store for the people we love. As a mom, I often want to make time stand still because now is safe, now is close, now is my kids here with me.

I felt guilty being at the party as an observer not a participant. I felt guilty knowing that I could hug my son and Antwon's mom no longer could. I wanted to go home.

Many issues will come up in the days ahead. Whether we like it or not, race will be debated, police brutality will be debated and the events leading up to the fatal shooting will be debated.

There will be an outcome of this trial and not everyone will be happy with the verdict. But no matter what side you are on, there is one fact that remains undisputed...a mother had her son violently taken from her and no verdict will bring him back.

ER ER Ohhhh

It is funny what you can observe when you spend an afternoon in the emergency room.

Let me first start by saying everyone is ok. My dad was dealing with some balance issues after a high fever. All tests came back negative.

But the emergency room in itself is it's own weird little universe. During the time you are there,  nowhere else seems to exist. If you are lucky and get to spend more than a few hours there, you meet some interesting characters.

My first encounter came about simply because of what I was wearing. Because it had been a leisurely Saturday, I was sporting my favorite Beatles t-shirt. The urgency of the phone call about my dad did not lend time for a costume change, not that one was even warranted. We were only headed to the emergency room. I am not sure what it is about this particular shirt but I have been approached by a stranger on various occasions while wearing it.

Last summer, I was stopped near Market Square and asked, "You a Beatles fan?" After I answered in the affirmative I was invited to check out a Beatles tribute band who had an upcoming show. While at the ER, walking to my dad's pod I was stopped by a nurse, I think he was a nurse, and had to prove my allegiance by answering a trivia question. An easy one by my standards. Which former Beatle had the first number one post break-up and the most recent number one? I'll give you a hint...he was the quiet one.

Once I excused myself from that encounter it was on to Dr. Doogie (reference to Neil Patrick Harris' breakout show from the 80's.) I had noticed this guy in scrubs walking past our pod a number of times.  (His striped socks and Chuck Taylor's stood out to me as a former wearer of Chucks until my arches gave out. In fact, my husband and I both were wearing Converse low tops on the day we met twenty-two years ago.) I only had a view of from the knee down, due to the curtain shadowing our door, but a mental note was made. Little did I know this guy was my dad's doctor.

Since my dad was only allowed two visitors at a time, I missed the first appearance of the doc. My mom did warn me though... he was cute. (In the medical profession, at least around here,  most of the people you deal with are not fresh faced and skipping around in sneakers.) When this gentleman stopped in the second time I was more caught up by the fact this Converse wearing, college boy looking guy was my dad's doctor.

His bedside manner was great. Very personal, funny, heck he even tossed in some age digs that seemed to go over like butter. Here are some of the gems from his interaction with my dad: "You are not my youngest patient" and "Something's gonna get you sometime." Who says this stuff? I was thinking to myself, "Doogie, good thing you are cute. "

He even pointed out my dad is in his eighth decade, which threw us all for a loop because my dad only turned 72 a few months ago. But after doing grade school math in my head, ten years in a decade, 0 to 10 years is one decade, I realized Doogie was right. An hour later, when I explained the math to my parents, they realized he was right too.  Not cool man. I wonder if he would have tried this shtick with a woman?

So despite the reality check comedy show, Doogie was able to get my dad a "private" room pretty quick. On his way out we exchanged some pleasantries and he shared that he was about to become a dad and hoped he would be a good one. (I'm sure those age jokes will be a hit on the toddler circuit.) We assured him he would be fine and then he was gone. My mom then turned to me and asked,           "Didn't you think he was cute?"

Frankly, he wasn't my type and the fact that he is about to have a kid and my oldest is about to turn 17, kind of killed any possible attraction. Then I did my own mental math and I realized I am in my fifth decade. I did the Charlie Brown walk down the hall as we were getting ready to move my dad into his room for the night.

In the distance, I noticed a pair of Chuck Taylor's zipping down a side hallway. I wanted to warn Dr. Doogie that he would eventually need more arch support with being on his feet all day. But then I realized he was probably less than a decade away from figuring that out himself.

From that moment on, each cushioned step I took in my Swedish comfort sole sneakers felt a little softer - a little wiser. Step gently Doogie and keep an eye out for Dr. Scholl.

One Sweet Street

Twas the night before Valentine's Day and all through the 'burgh a trip to the new Oakmont Bakery did not sound absurd.

You undoubtedly have heard about the beloved Oakmont Bakery moving to a new location. The move has been in the works for about four years, but as of February 6, the new location at the corner of Hulton Road and Third Street, just a few blocks from their previous location, is now open for business.

My relationship with Oakmont Bakery began 8 years ago. I kept hearing commercials on the radio about these paczkis, (pronounced pownch-kee) Polish donuts and I needed to get to the bottom of this tasty delight. (Since I am Slovak/Hungarian I grew up on ceregi not paczkis!) Because of the timing of learning about pownch-kee and having my third child, his nickname Pootchie was inspired by this Polish specialty.

The first trip to Oakmont Bakery turned into a tradition that now spans nearly a decade. We make the yearly trip, just before Lent begins, to get our last taste of sugar before the fasting season begins. There are at least 15 flavors. I have never strayed from the Oakmont Creme which has a chocolate buttercreme filling, but most of my family ops for the fruity flavored filling.

But I digress, we are talking about Valentine's Day not Lent.

The weeks prior to the bakery's move, news programs were filled with stories about the new luxurious location. It was during that time my mom saw a photo of one of their specialty cakes called the Sweetheart Torte, a chocolate and yellow cake topped with strawberries and chocolate ganache, and mentioned she would like to try it. She even saved the newspaper which featured the photo and article about the new store for me to read. This cake had made quite an impression on her.

The new bakery is 6 times the size of their previous location down the street and boasts more indoor and outdoor seating with lots more parking. But that parking was simply not enough on the night before Valentine's Day. Cars were lined up down the street as people were trying to get that special treat for their loved ones.

I had meant to get to Oakmont Bakery earlier that Wednesday, but the snow and cold didn't  make for an inviting afternoon errand. I thought about going to the bakery early Valentine's Day morning, they open at 6 a.m., but after seeing the stories about traffic being a bit snarly at the new location, I didn't want to risk being late for the school drop off.

I was in a bind. Either l would let it go and not get the cake at all or I would make a mad dash at 6 p.m. Mind you, they close at 7 p.m. Since I am a bit obsessive- compulsive, letting it go is not in my DNA.

My daughter accompanied me on the dash. She was having a bad day and I thought nothing boosts your mood like the prospect of getting tasty treats. I had full intention of getting us pre-annual paczkis, since I was making the 35 minute drive and thought I also deserved an extra treat this year.

When we turned onto Third Street the traffic was backed up and it was already 6:45 p.m. I told my daughter to run in and at least get a number and I would park. I was able to find a space down the street, not far, and I ran to the bakery.

When I looked at our number we were 160. The number they were serving at the time was 100. I wasn't sure how this would play out, but I figured since we were inside, there was a good chance of getting something.

Once I caught my breath, I looked for the cake. There were a few in the glass case. Yes! Then I looked at the paczkis. There were plenty of those too. But because we had so long to wait, and there was so much to see, cookies, cupcakes, cakes, my order changed a few times. I talked myself out of the paczkis, because the rest of the family wasn't with us and it just wouldn't be right. I talked myself into gingerbread men, for my sons, eclair, for my husband, and cannoli, for my daughter and I. Oh, and yes, the cake for my mom.

 Eventually, they locked the doors, as people were still trying to get in at 7:10 p.m., but shortly after that our number was called. I was pleased with how smoothly the transaction went and how I used self restraint in leaving with not much more than what I intended. Once in the car, my daughter and I enjoyed each bite of the mini cannoli and started the journey home.

The cake was really important to me because of what transpired one year ago to the day. My mom, siblings and I spent Valentine's Day 2018 in the hospital as my dad underwent major surgery. It was not a great way to spend the holiday, but it did provide us the amazing gift of my dad currently being cancer free.

I thought enjoying the Sweetheart Torte was appropriate this year to symbolize the sweetness of life.  So I left the cake on my parents' side porch with a small Valentine card. I sent a text to alert them of the special delivery. My mom was very surprised and said she would have a tough time waiting until after dinner to cut it.

Later in the evening, I even got to try a piece. Each moist bite made me happy there is an Oakmont Bakery for those times you just need something a little out of the ordinary to make the day mouthwateringly delicious.