Hey, wow, it's August.

I don't know what to blog about. Maybe starting to write about the weekend will lead me to some quirky story or observation that the rest of you might want to read.

Friday night Colin and I hung out with some friends on the Nor'side at a favorite bar, favored because of the free popcorn and peanuts and the ability to throw shells on the floor (a habit I wish Colin would allow in our apartment). Walking around, hanging out on the rooftop deck at a friend's apartment, it all felt normal and somehow I feel like I might actually belong here in Pittsburgh.

Saturday Colin and I went to McConnells Mill State Park, an old mill set at the bottom of a lovely gorge alongside a river. It's up near the town where his grandparents live and since we were going up to visit them anyway, we decided to get in a little outdoor activity and excercise. (Heaven knows we don't get enough of that lately. Colin blames our full-time jobs. I blame laziness.) It was the perfect day for a hike - relief from the heavy humidity and heat that have settled in Pittsburgh for the past few weeks. When we told his grandparents we were going to the mill they made sure to tell us that at least one person each year is lured by the slippery rocks and falls in the river and drowns. I think it was a relief when we both walked in their door later that afternoon, dry and alive.

Today we went to church in the courtyard of a beautiful nearby church and had brunch with friends. Now Colin is golfing and I'm getting ready to go visit the chickens I'm watching for a few weeks. I have some letters to write and they could use the company -- I think they're feeling a bit cooped up (wow! Is that where the expression came from?) and missing their owner. One, Dotty, is a bit of an escape artist and try as I might, I can't figure out how she gets out of their fenced-in area. I don't think she can figure out how to get back in, either -- I came the other night to feed them and she was running around the yard all flustered and hungry. Freedom wasn't all she thought it would be, I guess.

Boo

Every week I tutor an adorable 7-year-old for an hour. She's a little chatterbox, so we spend a little time getting to know each other before starting her homework (example: I recently discovered that her favorite singer is Beyonce, but she doesn't like when she sings with that white girl Lady Gaga).

This week we were working on graphs. After a few minutes of me trying to explain what "one-third" is and getting nothing but a blank stare, I ran to the supply room to grab some scrap paper. (Math's not my strong point, but we kick butt when we practice reading.) I came back already chatting away about pieces of pie, but stop abruptly as I look around and see an empty room.

Panic.

I've lost a fair number of things in my life, but this would be the first child to disappear on me. My mind immediately jumps to the conversation I'll have to have with her adorable grandparents, what her brother will think, if I'll be in the newspaper --

"BOO."

She jumps out from behind the door. Relief, right? Wrong. As I've mentioned before, I am a giant scaredy-cat and if you startle me, I'm likely to start shaking, curl into a ball, or maybe claw you in defense. Unfortunately this little girl is not a reader of my blog and thought she was pulling a cute prank on her tutor. She expected a laugh, so when she got a shriek instead she was understandably upset.

My heart rate calmed after a few seconds and I immediately tried to comfort her, telling her I thought her joke was really funny and trying to laugh off my reaction. I pulled her in for a hug, but apparently was still a little shaky because I hit her mouth with my shoulder in the process. She pulled away, smiled and said:

"You hit my tooth."

We had discussed earlier how loose her tooth was, and sure enough, there was her top chomper hanging on at a weird angle, enjoying its last few minutes in her mouth by decorating the surrounding gum red with a little blood.

I hadn't experienced losing a tooth in a long time (my little brother has pretty much moved out of that stage) but some sort of instinct must have kicked in as I coached her in pulling it out, got a wet paper towel and ice for her to chew on, helped wash off the newly freed tooth, and constructed a little tooth fairy pouch for her to take the little guy home in.

Once we had settled back in and pulled out our Dr. Suess book, she paused, turned to me and flashed a huge, toothless smile. And all was well in the world.

victoria falls

This is my new dream. Awesome.

here we go

The couple seated behind me in the coffee shop where I've parked myself for the day to look for jobs is meeting with a wedding planner. While I managed to keep my face in my New Yorker my ears were at their table as they pieced together their dream wedding. As I eavesdropped, their choices began to seem kind of weird to me: the bridesmaids were wearing red, blue, and yellow dresses? Groomsmen in black tuxes with yellow shirts? A lot of talk about "the field?"

Then it clicked. A Steelers-themed wedding.

At which point I inconspicuously turned to sneak a peek at the couple. I saw a young, blond wedding planner, a pretty girl in a red sweater, and the fiance in a Troy Polamalu jersey with a black and gold Super Bowl jacket draped over his chair.

"I didn't want to hire a wedding planner 'cuz I thought you'd just make like phone calls and stuff, and I was like, 'I could do that,' but this is great, you can help us get like black and yellow napkins and stuff. Do you think we could get Steelers keychains and engrave the our names in them as favors?" - him.

"I mean, I think one of our biggest problems is going to be that my dad is a Cowboys fan" - her.

Oh man. Another reminder that adjusting to the atmosphere of this city (even fitting in with Colin and his crew, who are decidedly less psychotic about Ben and gang - there was no talk of walking down the aisle to "Pittsburgh's going to the Super Bowl") is going to take some serious work. Maybe I should be thankful that the Steelers didn't make the playoffs this year - more time to study.

oh, oh-ten

Hi 2010. I know we're rather recent acquaintances, but I feel like old friends. I've been thinking about you a lot over the past year, worrying, dreading, dreaming about our life together and what it would hold. Maybe that's why our several-week-old relationship feels more like 12 years than 12 days.

We met in Grand Rapids, sitting on Colin's couch. My eyes may still have been a bit puffy from mourning the passage of the last 22 years and all the changes they've brought, but by the time you came around I was happily chatting with my best friend about the year ahead and the exciting promise it held. Marriage? Apartment? Job? School? I felt ready for it all.

You came home with me and met my family, laughed and planned and played with us. I resented you when you asked me to pack up my clothes and sort through piles of memories and get in Roger on the road to Pittsburgh, but I did it. It hurt but I did it.

And now here we are in Pittsburgh and you were right. Time passes and it's not a bad thing. As I look out the window of this coffee shop and see the snow falling down, I'm thankful for you and the chance to see and and enjoy a new place. To write about its peculiarities. I mean, any place as obsessed with sports as this town is merits more than a few blog entries, I'm sure.