My birthday and dinner

Dinner with two good friends and traveling companions, Virginia, me in the center, and Ellen.

Yesterday was my birthday. I took the day off and snoozed in for a bit, drove my husband to the light rail, walked the dogs for a lazy, muddy hour in the park, then took a long walk by myself on a warm February day. Most of the rest of the day I spent in the car, driving to and from Cranberry to shots at a travel health clinic. And I got some free advice from my nurse there, who had a really nice, simple and small nose piercing, which I've been tempted to do since last summer. She told me where she had it done: Hot Rod Tattoos on the South Side (this is an nurse we are talking about here -- Hot Rod Tattoos on the South Side?) Then I heard about her tatts -- all on her back -- and her 18-year-old daughter who is presently backpacking by herself in the Dominican Republic.  Guess she's never heard of helicopter parenting. Yay!

The good thing about driving that far, 20 miles or so, is that its all  interstate and 279 and 79 north, to me, seemed designed for speed. I like driving fast -- not recklessly -- but fast. In fact, it's the only thing I like about driving. I like how the car feels when its at 60 or 70 or 80. I don't know if its the quality of the car we drive -- a VWPassat (??) -- or the fact that its a manual transmission, or that on those particular highways, there's not much but interstate, hills, exit signs and trees. It's pretty countryside, like the Ohio Turnpike. Never mind though. I drove fast and the end of my day was still not my own. Focus & breathe & all is fine.

Dinner.

Two of my loveliest friends, Virginia and Ellen, and I started a tradition I don't know how many years ago when we were all working together, of lunch, which turned into dinner, on our birthdays. I'm in February, Virginia in March and Ellen in May. From dinner came travel plans and we started with a trip one spring Savage River Lodge in western Maryland.

http://www.savageriverlodge.com/

We had such a good time. Stopped at Whole Foods in the East End and bought prepared food and breads, brought wine, got there I think at about 7 or 8 on a Friday night. Stayed up into the deep darkness noshing and talking and then slept Oh! so late. It is so quiet there. No crickets since it was early spring, just forest silence. It was just lovely to have that time; long walk on Saturday and I think Ellen and Virginia had a run. I think that's what gave us the nudge to experiment with other trips. Most were to NYC but we did do a D.C. weekend a few years ago.

So we've kept up the birthday dinners and expanded the travel tradition. We went to Paris last fall with another good friend, Carol Morton, and I feel lucky to have fallen in to such a good, fun smart group. I think what's nice is that all of us are self sufficient, in varying degrees. We have enough individual interests so that, on a trip or even in a dinner conversation! we can find different places to go that we are all interested in.

OK. I did not take pix but I am working my way up to being brave enough to point my camera in places like the morning bus, Starbucks, etc. But for what its worth, here is my word picture of waiting for a train at the Gateway Center light rail stop at 8:30 on a Thursday night.

It's really a pretty station. There is a gorgeous mural of Pittsburgh's history by Romare Beardon that never fails to intrigue me. Here's a link on Downtown Pittsburgh places that includes the mural
http://www.popcitymedia.com/photoessays/publicart/bearden.aspx#

The mirror image-abstract composition, the shapes hinting at Pittsburgh's history and the Native American silhouetteded figures at the far left, watching as their home is invaded and overcome, are all the more fascinating for being so stark. I wonder why it's in a transit station? There are lots of pictures of the station on the Internet. I need to make one of my own. I was so tired. Ellen dropped me off and I waited a minimum seven minutes for a train. In Pittsburgh, the underground stations have classical music piped in. Gateway was moderately crowded, but I found and empty granite bench, sat down and leaned my head back to listen. I recognized the music, but not the composer. Soaring, but sad and funereal. "Schindler's List?" I don't know. But near me, muffled couple conversation and as I tried to listen to the music, their words kept wafting over. Weird words, kind of trashy.

Then the train came, fast, rolling but as I thought about it, nowhere near as fast or noisy as then NY or Paris subways, which just hurtle! But as I got on the car and this couple embraced. She got on, blond, bulky shapeless yellow jacket, blond hair half pulled into a pony and half hanging. He stayed on the platform, shaped trimmed beard and black sweatshirt and slacks and as the train pulled away, knocked a couple times on her window, pointed to her and waved. She waved too, then leaned her head against the glass.

The train pulled out. And wherever we were going at 8:50 on Feb. 12 of 2009, we were all on our way.