Colors

We've been in a deep freeze for the past couple of weeks here in Western Pennsylvania, with temperatures in the single digits up  to the teens and low twenties. The good news is that the days are getting longer. The late day light has a longer slant and tonight -- I got  home around 5:14 -- the dogs and I were able to take our evening walk in dusky light. As we came back down the street out of the park, the sunset was fading from cool slate to clear gold to brilliant coral on the horizon. The horned owl hooted above us in the park, then flapped away to a distant tree.

Color has been a lot on my mind lately. My living room is painted a deep Oriental red and decorated with various framed paintings of birds, mostly cranes, that I've inherited. Over my fireplace is a screen depicting a stand of bamboo and a lone sparrow done in black on gold that my dad's mother bought in Japan in the 1960s on a round-the-world tour with the Congressional Secretaries Club. I love the red and have been trying to figure out good complementary colors for the adjacent dining room, which is small and houses a Mid-Century Modern teak dining table (minus its two leaves) and chairs. The set was purchased by my parents at a PX in France when we were stationed there in the 1960s. The chairs originally had seats covered in a nubby cool chartreuse wool, with tiny flecks of brown and flax. They're presently covered in deep teal and the two captain's chairs in deep lavender. My choices. I thought they were good at the time, but I now want to get back to the warm smoky chocolate and cool chartreuse/lime green scheme. The room will be painted in the warmer deep smoky brown below the chair rail and a pale smoke above with the chairs in a kind of warm-ish chartreuse. Hmmm... Sounds almost too 70s. But they will fit nicely with the red of the living room and the celadon planters I have there. I could also do them in a nubby wheat fabric as well. 

Colors. Speaking of, the NYT had an article today about the Obamas and redecorating the White House, specifically focusing on the re-dos that Jackie Kennedy implemented with the help of favored designers.

The article is here:

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/21/opinion/21needleman.html?partner=permalink&exprod=permalink

I remember seeing, not live on tape but many years later, Jackie's televised tour through the updated White House. I don't get the sense that Michelle Obama is that kind of behind the scenes person-- personality and the times. But, about six or seven years ago, my Mom and sisters Elizabeth and Mary drove down to D.C. from Pittsburgh for an exhibit of dresses Jackie wore as first lady, for trips she took, and for parties she planned. She looked fabulous no matter the occasion but the memory I carried away was the huge reproduced photo of the gathering of Nobel Prize winners that the Kennedys sponsored at the White House during JFK's first term. Brains and style on display. This was in the Dubya's first term and was particularly poignant because it had become so clear by then that brains, discourse, engagement and humor were among the least of the 43rd president's interests.
Well. We now have a president -- I was going to say leader, but I truly do not believe George W. Bush was a leader -- of a different color. Good luck Mr. Obama. You will need it, but I don't think you will wait for it.

Turning 180 degrees... or even further...
I am going to India in March to visit a friend and former co-worker. Never would have picked Indi on my own, but its a hard invitation to turn down. Kim, my lovely friend, has been posted in all kinds of places because of her husband's work and I am happy that she has offered to be a tour guide for a week.

Miss Baby

There's a particular panhandler in downtown Pittsburgh who calls herself Miss Baby. She stands with a worn fast-food cup and a big smile, cap pulled down over her hair and asks "Can you spare anything now for Miss Baby, precious?" How can you resist that? I gave her a dollar today on Forbes Avenue on my way from Market Square up to Macy's. "Oh thank you precious!" Made me feel like I wanted to be a small child and have her cradle me in her arms.

One of my coworkers is of the opinion that panhandlers and beggars should not be given money, because it only encourages them not to go into shelters. I don't know. Sometimes I don't give, and truthfully its because the person seems too unlikable. One poor woman who appears and disappears from the streets is tiny, with stringy white-blonde shoulder-length hair. I think she is missing a few teeth. Her beg is always the same, she spots you, makes for you and whines "Do you have fifty cents?" I feel bad for her. But for some reason, I don't like her.

***

Random funny line from "Seinfeld":

"He was moving on her like the storm troopers into Poland," Newman.

Episode: The infamous making out during "Schindler's List" show.

***

Random headline from today's Pittsburgh Post-Gazette

http://www.post-gazette.com/pg/09013/941345-28.stm

Headline: CMU spinof firm's software teaches non-native speakers clearer English.

***

Thanks for reading, Katy

 

An apology, and a quiet moment

I have a few things to write about today, when all of Pittsburgh and the Steeler nation diaspora is glued to the Steelers-Chargers AFC playoff game. Even now, at Heinz Field, a man is walking along a yard-line spraying snow off it.

I'll start with the hard issue first.

The day after Christmas 2008, my husband and I went to the funeral service for a coworker who had died, at age 54, of lung cancer. He was a kind and gentle man, a runner and nonsmoker and a thorough and compassionate reporter.

The service was at 8 p.m., and Carl and I were to get up the next morning and drive home for an abbreviated Christmas with both of our families. Three former coworkers spoke first after the pastor led a prayer. They were eloquent, tearful and funny. A friend from his church spoke next, briefly and kindly.

Then the pastor got up and began with these words: "I'm a pastor, so forgive me, but I've got an audience so I've got to speak."

He proceeded to talk about my friend's acceptance, some years past, of Jesus Christ as his personal savior, then began wandering all over the proselytizing landscape. He spoke for a half-hour and it was barely about my friend. I could not stand it. My right foot started tapping. My husband and I rolled our eyes at each other. I got the giggles. The woman next to me whispered "This is so inappropriate."

The only good thing is that we were sitting in the back. I felt like Mary Richards at the funeral for Chuckles the Clown, although that is an entirely inadequate comparison.

After the pastor was done trying to win new converts, he led an eloquence-challenged prayer and the service was mercifully over.

Most friends and coworkers there agreed the pastor had gone too far. But his son's father-in-law came up to me and asked how I knew our friend. I explained my relation to him and the others who had stood and spoken for him. What a gentleman he was, but, and I have no idea where he was sitting or if he witnessed my stifled impatience, he merely asked and then thanked me for attending.

Here's the deal. I don't go to church. Organized religion is not for me. I was baptized as a Catholic and still have an affection for the Latin Mass rituals of my childhood. I will duck into church Downtown to pray for my Dad on his birthday, but as I've gotten older, my attitude has been to be thankful for every good day and to try to be kind and generous as much as possible. Just don't preach to me.

So my lesson learned -- and I knew this already -- is to remember that not every situation is about me and to have respect for the beliefs and wishes of others. A week or so after the funeral, I spoke with a coworker who had sung at the funeral. He, too, felt the pastor had gone to far. But he also said that he had no doubt that our friend had planned everything (in fact, he contributed to his own obituary). And that was what I had failed to realize. My friend, I'm sorry.

***

Already the days are getting longer, though still not to the point at which I can walk the dogs in daylight morning or evening. But going out at dusk or before dawn means the owls that live in the park by my home are hooting. I love hearing them call back and forth to each other.

Friday morning, the girls and went out and were serenaded by the familiar "Hoo-hoo-hoo... hoo hoo" being called back and forth. The really cool thing is that last spring, I actually saw a baby owl in the park. That's him/her at the top of the page. To hear that call in the quiet of the evening is quite something.

A few years ago, on Thanksgiving day, I was taking the girls for a long walk before we went over to my brother-in-law's home for dinner. We were actually outside of the park, but I happened to look left into it and saw a huge shape on a tree trunk. It had a crested head, and I saw a flash of red. Before I could get too close, huge wings opened and it flapped off. When I got home, I checked my bird book and realized I had seen a pileated woodpecker. My sister Elizabeth remembers hearing them frequently when she would walk her dog in D.C.'s Rock Creek park. They don't so much peck as they do pound trees. And their call is just as rackety.

We stopped on our way back home tonight so I could listen to the owls. I think the dogs were listening to other things, but we all enjoyed the moment.

Thinking, comedy and shopping

I started this because I wanted to write every day. Hmmm. Maybe every few days will have to do. There's a comic named Koi (spelling?) on TV trashing France. Sorta funny. But he's wrong. The French are nice.

Like I said earlier, I wish I could have a machine or something attached to my brain to record my train of thoughts.

These two girls are my companions when I do my thinking. The greyhounds and I spend a lot of time in the park by my house. They sniff everything and I think about lots of things.

What a lazy weekend. Slept in on Sunday then ran a couple errands (namely getting my glasses fixed for free at Lenscrafters) that resulted in me spending a couple hundred bucks at the mall. Shoes, purse, coat. Everything on sale! Yay! Course, its on sale from ridiculous prices. But I can still be sucked in. I bought a gorgeous red coat at J. Jill for 90 bucks to make up for not buying a truly, hugely, fantastically expensive red coutourier coat in Paris last fall. Hah!

It was a late morning on Sunday because we were out late Saturday night. Had tix for a Jerry Seinfeld show at the Benedum, but when I bought them, the only good seats were for the 9:30 show. Never again. Too late. I fell asleep. And I don't think it was because I was tired. Jerry just wasn't up to his usual standards. We left early. Wow!

I wanted to mention this link, sent to me by a coworker who's a real Internet miner. Doesn't play real well on Safari on my machine for some reason, but fine at work on my PC. Its safe for work and really, really Creative.

http://vimeo.com/2554266

New Year's Day in Pittsburgh

Jan 1, 2009
I started 2009 by waking up at 4 a.m., my husband lightly snoring next to me, his reading light and glasses still on. I shook him to take his glasses off. “Too hard” he mumbled through his sleep. I didn’t get mad. I took off his glasses, grabbed my comforter, turned off his light and went upstairs to the guest room.
After a lazy snooze and bizarre dreams (about a water park visit with my sister Elizabeth, giant, mutant hydra headed crocodiles and lunch at a floating restaurant, where on earth does this stuff come from?) I woke up around 10 a.m.
A gorgeous day, and very cold. Coffee in the living room with the sun streaming in the picture window, the brindle greyhound stretched out on the carpet. I love the quiet of the morning house, especially on a sunny day with a good cup of coffee.
Carl was still asleep when I bundled up and took the dogs for their morning walk. Despite the cold, I didn’t put their coats on since the sun was throwing up a lot of heat from the asphalt pavement of the street. We walked down to Cedar to Bird Park, through the park up Youngwood and back down Mayfair. Almost an hour. Its never much of an exercise walk with the greyhounds, as their long noses pick up some fascinating scent or another every five feet. Some mornings if I’ve slept late, this irritates me and I hurry them along. I know they don’t get it and then I feel guilty.
Came home, let the dogs out back to run off some energy and had another cup of coffee in the living room. Carl still sleeping, but I decided to get started on breakfast. Left-over ham inspired me to fix a brunch of ham and cheese omelet, toast, hashbrowns and cut up apples and pears. We had champagne, too, and as Carl was cleaning up, we christened the new year by breaking one of the champagne flutes. Somehow, it seemed like a good sign.
I took a long “me” walk after breakfast, picking up bits of trash along the way. An empty pack of Marlboros. A lighter. A plastic milk carton. An empty can of Coke. Some of it scattered no doubt by the fierce winds earlier in the week but some of it you know is just carelessness and ignorance. That really bugs me.
But it was a nice walk. The side streets so quiet. Smell of fireplace logs burning. Beautiful bare deciduous trees and stately evergreens. I love the pines that resemble Joshua trees, with their coarse bark and stately horizontal architecture. I love to feel my feet pounding and my heart beating hard, and the sight of the brushings of white snow that we’ve had gleaming the slanting winter sun.
A walk, like a good swim, is so good for thinking. Sometimes I wish there was a way I could attach a recorder to my brain and capture my thought train. My mind does wander, but it’s a purposeful, problem solving wander. How to improve my backyard. Ideas for making the paper better. Or sometimes just taking deep breaths and being present to the moment.
Carl was napping when I came home around 3. I’d been out for an hour. The daylight already is starting to fade and I’m glad of having had the chance to spend a day pretty much doing nothing. There’s a whole year ahead of us – time to around to a few things on my mental list of plans. Time for plenty of walks too, and mornings in the living room with the sun shining in and a greyhound or two at my feet.