Done deal

"I was alone, I took a ride,
I didn't know what I would find there;
Another road where maybe I could see
Another kind of mind there.

Ooh, then I suddenly see you.
Ooh, did I tell you I need you
Every single day of my life."

-- Got to Get You Into My Life, The Beatles



I'm going to be a grandmommy!


Yes, it's sort of true. Let me explain...

Joe has two grown daughters. They are nearly my age. And each has a son. And Joe and I made our engagement official.

I'm no math wizard, but I figure when we get married, that makes me a step-grandmother.

I just turned 33.

I have not met his girls, but since they live in Florida -- in BROWARD COUNTY, my recently abandoned second or third hometown -- I assume it won't be hard to cross paths with them at some point. I wish I could have met them before I have the baby, but it appears that possibility is disappearing. At this point I hope Joe tells them about our baby before it magically appears.



I got the ring last night, after my birthday dinner. Joe insisted on taking me to the Georgetown Inn in Mount Washington, (I think he is growing tired of my penchant for Eat N Park and my grieving for the defunct Chi-Chi's), and during the stroll back to the car, he kept asking me to hold things -- his wallet, his keys, some gum -- as he fished things out of his pockets. And then the ring appeared among the things he was handing me to hold. It wasn't the most romantic delivery, but I suspected it was coming and I think he knew that. The funny part is that he thought he had left the ring at the restaurant and was giving me his belongings to hold while earnestly fishing in his pockets for the prize.

It was no Chi-Chi's, but the food at the Georgetown was fucking awesome. And it's a beautiful ring. I thought about posting a photo of it, but I'm too embarrassed. Anyone who knows me and saw the size of the stone would laugh out loud -- it's worth enough to buy me my Payless shoe supply -- and my kids' -- for the rest of our lives. In fact, I've imagined the things I could trade it in for: A new kitchen, a roof, a new car....

But what's a girl going to do?

I'll probably just start sending my soon-to-be step-grandkids toys that are too young for them and clothes that are too small for them and stock up on hard candy, start misplacing my car keys and go get fitted for dentures and a cane........

Happy birthdays to come

"God damn the wounds
That show how deep a word can cut."

-- Before You Were Born, Toad the Wet Sprocket



Yesterday was my birthday. Few people remembered. Joe greeted me as we woke up in the cabin (see the camping blog below), gave me a mushy card and promised to deliver my present on Friday. Dad called. Rebecca and Bob both called AND sang. And my sister-in-law and another friend in Florida left messages. And my brother handed me a card when I got back from lovely DuBois.

OK, everyone important remembered. Everyone who had any knowledge of my birthday anyway. And I know my sister remembered, because my dad told me she called and mentioned it, but she and I apparently are going through a no-talking spell. Last time we spoke on the phone she hung up on me and she won't return my emails, even though I owe her money. That's impressive. Even I am sweet as pie until someone pays up.

But no one celebrated happily that I'm 29 again! I hope to see some sort of dessert topped with candles this weekend.

The baby's birthday is on target too, according to the ultrasound today. Mid-December. The sonagram technician was all syrupy, telling me I better have my holiday shopping done by Thanksgiving. And she asked if we were interested in knowing the gender. But of course.

Joe and I were leaving the appointment when I began text-messaging the news to my sister-in-law. He stopped me, and suggested that we keep that news private. I thought about it for a second. I decided the sentiment was silly, but felt I should at least give the appearance I was giving it some consideration. My quiet pondering drove him crazy.

"Why do you always get like this when I try to talk to you about something?" he barked at me.

We were driving by then, and the argument ensued. It wasn't even about the baby's gender anymore. He was mad that I didn't give his feelings any weight and I was mad that he was telling me what I was allowed to tell people about this nine-pound gut hanging off the front of me.

I told people anyway. My family, my close friends. I know that should be a decision Joe and I both make, but I had no idea it mattered at all to him, and he didn't bring it up until moments after we found out. It didn't seem fair.

It will be a fun counseling session on Monday.

After I got home and calmed down, I saw no reason to keep it quiet. I'm the one struggling with my lopsided body, living with my father with no permanent home in sight, and I need all the support I can possibly get. Joe hasn't even told his family yet that he has another child on the way.

Let alone that it's a son.




Zoe and I both have to warm up to having a boy, since we both professed our desire for a girl. "Let's call him Millie," Zoe says.

Parker Dam State Park

We had a long weekend of camping. I've been back one full day, and I'm still tired!

Zoe had a wonderful time, sleeping on the top bunk and taking a shower like the big kids. She got to ride her bike with the cousins and didn't mind that she had the only three-wheeler. We swam at the beach and went hiking and roasted marshmallows and hot dogs on the campfire. There were four cabins split among my family members, so Zoe made her rounds every half an hour or so, knocking on doors for food.

I got in a little fishing and a sunburn. Ahhhh. This is what moving here was all about.

Some photos:

Veggie madness

My brother has grown the biggest kohlrabi I have ever seen. It measures 21 inches around and weighs about five and a half pounds.



For the uninitiated, kohlrabi (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kohlrabi) normally ranges between the size of a tennis ball and a softball. We have yet to dig into this monster to determine if it tastes any different; for now, it is making its rounds through the neighborhood.

My brother also gave us a zucchini the size of my lower leg. I didn't get a photo of that, but there's sure to be more to come: Many gardeners often grow this yummy veggie too big to have any taste. But baked in the oven with a can of tomato sauce and smothered with American cheese, any vegetable tastes good. Even Zoe ate zucchini for the first time.

Who's on first?

"Floating in this cosmic Jacuzzi,
We are like frogs oblivious."

-- Warning, Incubus



All-Star fever hit Pittsburgh!


Fever is a strong word, unless one is referring to an illness. It ain't like we're hosting the World Series.

They (whoever that is) did clean up the city a bit though. I noticed on my way home from work yesterday, most of the potholes that I normally speed around were filled in over the weekend. And not just the big ones, the little ones too.

Along Route 51 (pronounced "Raht Fittywan"), garbage bags lined the guardrails. Whoever adopted that section of the road had gone all out to "redd up," as this big campaign to fool tourists into thinking our city is clean has been called.

Today I left work a little early thinking the traffic would be a nightmare. Our office is between PNC Park and Heinz Field, but there were fewer people on the roads and in parking lots than there were on Pirate game days. (And I don't have to say here how bad the Pirates sucked this season.) I actually made it to Zoe's preschool faster than I normally do.

And today on the way home it was fun to observe all the locals still swerving around phantom potholes. But the garbage bags along Route 51 had mostly been blown about and ripped open, the contents strewn along the shoulder and the bags waving from tree branches.

Luckily it seems mostly West Virginians and Ohioans were in town, judging by the evening news. The reporters couldn't even find someone from as far away as Indiana or Philadelphia to interview.



Dad is off this week. Again. How on earth do government employees get so much time off? What do their unions even bitch about nowadays? That three months of vacation a year isn't enough?

Anyway, he's been painting. I don't know what he does while I'm at work all day, but for two days, as I get home from work, he's gearing up to paint.

Today it was threatening rain, so he moved his painting operation to the basement -- that place beneath the house with no ventilation except the unusually large laundry chute that leads to the rest of the house. I was outside for much of the evening, and when I came in, I thought he MUST be painting the staircase or something, it was so strong. I mentioned sheepishly (sheepishly because the last time I complained about his cigar smoke setting off the carbon monoxide detector he told me to move out) that it was a wee bit overpowering.

He said he couldn't paint in the garage because his Explorer was in there. And he couldn't paint on the porch because... well, it might rain... on the porch. "I can't drag this out for a month," he told me.

Those cabinet doors have needed painted for 20 years. But he had to wait until I was back in Pittsburgh, pregnant, and coming in the door from work to paint them.

Then my potential landlord called and told me my credit was just fabulous, but he decided he didn't want to rent to someone with dogs.

I tried to bait Joe into inviting me over, but he didn't bite. So, I stuck me and Zoe in our bedrooms with towels under the doors and fans running at high speed. So far, so good.

Time to restart the rental search.

Looking, looking

"I have run,
I have crawled,
I have scaled these city walls
Only to be with you."

-- I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For, U2



I went out in search of nail clippers at 10:30 tonight. I went a couple miles in every direction and still came back empty-handed. Everything was closed.

When people ask me if I miss Florida, I don't hesistate: NO. But at certain times, such as when the need arises for nail clippers and I can't find mine, I'd like to be able to go to the store and just get them. In Fort Lauderdale, with a 24-hour Walgreens every block and a half or so, this wouldn't have been a problem.

Sory if my typping is not so goood. My nails aree realy lonng.

Pittsburgh must go to bed shortly after supper. After leaving a movie Saturday night, we found a sub shop right outside the theater was closed. And it was still somewhat light out.



I have been feeling a pain in my side lately and I was skeptical that it was, in fact, the baby. I went online to find one of those fetal development charts that walk you through week by week, and I realized I had no idea what week I was in. Fourteen? Fifteen? Then I realized, holy shit, we're well into July...

So, I counted backward from my due date and discovered that I am actually 18 weeks! I'm almost half way there!

Joe and I have been wavering about what to do with ourselves, and even (briefly, very briefly) considered me moving back in with him. But I think the plan we will stick to is me renting a place until we are sure we won't kill each other under the same roof.

We've looked at a few places, and the one I really like -- a three-bedroom, single-family home with a huge yard -- wouldn't allow pets. But the landlord was really nice and we spent way more time talking to him than we needed to after I found out he wouldn't allow my dogs.

But he called me Friday anyway. I told him again that I wanted a place that would allow my dogs, and he asked a lot of questions about them and said he'd get back to me when he ran my credit. He didn't come right out and say he'd rent to me with the dogs, but I was pretty clear that I wouldn't take the place otherwise.

And it's so cheap. I'd pay twice the rent for the same house in Lauderdale.

I feel like a loser renting, I don't know why. Maybe because I feel like I'm compromising too much for my relationship with Joe. But the fact of the matter is, if I found a house tomorrow, by the time I closed on it I would be too fat and tired to want to move boxes, let alone unpack them. I need to do something now.

Letting go

On Monday, Joe turned up an engagement ring.

No, not like that. Well, not exactly.

Last Thursday we had another counseling session. He almost didn't go, and I bet during that hour, he really wish he hadn't. I just let go. I was, uh, pretty passionate about letting him know exactly how I felt about him kicking me out of the house, and spent much of the hour expressing my, uh, passion on the issue.

I wouldn't say I was insulting (OK, maybe a little), but I was rather direct and, at times, loud.

At one point I used the word "fiancee," and the therapist jumped on this. "You two talked about marriage?"

You wouldn't know it by the way I was ranting. But then Joe told her something I didn't know: That he had had a ring ready to give to me. Since mid-May. It was a blip in the session and I didn't say anything about it at the time. I really thought he was just blowing smoke to cover his ass about all the stuff I was finally venting about.

I didn't really feel great after purging all that anger, even though I thought I would. So I just decided to turn things off, stay away from Joe for a while, go rent an apartment and think about all the big stuff later.

Friday morning, I went into the office and there was a plant on my desk. A peace lily, Joe pointed out later. I stood there at my desk crying. Good thing I was the only one in that early.

He sent me an email saying he was up most of the night thinking about everything I said, and when he did sleep he dreamed of me. Awwwwwww.

Fast-forward to Monday, after a weekend of communication, and we're driving around looking at rentals for me. And we're holding hands and he's telling the landlord that he's trying to sell his place and then he'd move into the rental with me so we could look to buy a home in earnest, with no time constraints. I know it's half bullshit, but it is a plan we had talked about in the past. And even though these were rentals, he's picking over them like he would be living there. All of this is bullshit, I'm telling myself. Stop feeling good.

We go back to his place for coffee. I don't know why, but I ask to see this ring. And he actually produced it. He said he was nervous about the size and had been trying to figure out my size before he gave it to me. He put it on my finger.... and it fit.

And it was big. I actually complained that it was too big. I'm the only woman in the world, I think, who would do that.

He said he'd get it polished and then I could wear it. I turned down the offer and told him to give it to me when he was more sure -- like, 100% sure -- he wanted to marry me. He didn't resist, and I don't think he was insulted.



For the Fourth, it was raining for most of the day. Municipalities threatened to call off fireworks. We had planned to go to the Regatta, but it didn't seem worth the effort. All the museums were closed, so Joe, Zoe and I went to play golf instead.

It was the first time Joe and Zoe were together since before the Florida trip. Zoe hadn't asked many questions about why we weren't staying at Joe's house, but when she did (usually she asked about a toy that was still there), I just told her that Joe and Mommy were mad but we were trying to be friends.

I was so reluctant to go, but when I told Zoe we were going to play golf with Joe, she was pleased. And Joe surprised me too. We played a round of miniature golf before hitting the driving range, and he didn't just display patience for her dragging her ball down each green, he really got into watching her, and he playfully scolded me for not helping her more. He even brought his ancient digital camera, something I had never seen him lug anywhere.

At one point Zoe hugged Joe at the knees and he rubbed the top of her head, and it felt like everything did five weeks ago. But surreal as all hell.

I couldn't help feeling guarded, but I had a great time, one that I didn't expect. And while I was still full of skepticism and doubt, I realized that for the first time in more than a month, I wasn't angry anymore.

Having a blast

Zoe and I spent most of the weekend up in Butler County.


Zoe snapped a few shots of fireworks.


After the fireworks, we all went fishing, and my brother Rob (with his friend John on the left) caught one of the biggest catfish I've ever seen.

The next day, Aimee and Lewis joined us for the Big Butler Fair. I couldn't ride the rides, so Aimee took the kids on those she could tolerate, including:


The Tilt-a-Whirl...


...the bumper cars...


...and The Caterpillar.

More photos from the fair:











And the grand finale:



Zoe got her pony ride.