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OK. Boys suck.

No surprise here. It's just that I've tried for years to assure to myself that boys don't suck. It's been in those same years that I've also tried to convince myself that many girls, aside from me of course, are frivolous and just care about shoes.

And, indeed, all the evidence has been to the contrary. Well, I continue to not be frivolous, so it's nice to have a constant.

OK. What I have arrived at thus far in twenty-five years, in summary:

1. Boys suck.

2. Girls kick ass. All the time.

Well, hell. I could have stopped at first grade.

Mmmm... crunchy tasty goodness.

It may look familiar, but what the hell. Still yummy.

OK. So, if you haven't pissed your pants laughing at something in the past few days, this should help out.

Thanks, JB in NJ.

Oh, and who knew? Pittsburgh doesn't have sales tax on clothes.

Absolutely no part of this makes sense to me. However, I'll take it.

Wonderful lunch catching up with work friends from DC. They chose a restaurant at the Waterfront that served quite tasty food. It was a great time chitty-chatting and, well, there are a ton of stores at the Waterfront and I figured I'd set aside my distaste for box stores and try finding some clothes. I was in a good mood, and despite being full from lunch, tried _really_ hard to shop.

Dismal.

Absolutely dismal.

Up until this point I thought Pittsburghers just had bad taste in clothing.

Nope. They have nothing to choose from.

Yeah, I've been spoiled living in DC. The stuff in the stores here has already run it's course through the Marshall's and TJMaxx's in DC.

And DWS Shoe is fucking crap.

They should just call themselves "Shoes Like Everyone Else Already Has."

This isn't much of a surprise, but since I'd never been in a DSW, I thought I might just be imposing my self-created stereotype on them.

Nope.

One hundred boots that look the same, just at different prices.

On to Marshall's...

The nice thing about Marshall's is that they will sell just about anything. Even the ridiculous junk no one else wanted. No one except for me, apparently. Scored a decent pair of boots that I haven't seen on anyone else's feet. Yeah for me.

I didn't have the patience to even try and search through the racks, so just boots and headed out of there.

Also scored some nice underthings at Filene's Basement. Yeah again.

Tried E. Carson St. Some encouraging finds by local designers, but nothing fit. I don't know who these people are making clothes for, but it's not me. I don't have a belly. Apparently girls/women buying the size 4 ultra-low hip-hugger pants have very wide hips and budda-bellies. It's nice to see clothes are out there for them. However, they aren't out there for me. I can't see buying jeans that barely cover my ass-crack if there is four extra inches of waist. Useless. I'd be better off pantless: everyone could still see my entire ass-crack and I wouldn't need a special effing belt to hold them up.

Somewhere in PGH is a store that sells clothes that (a) fit me, (b) fit my budget, and (c) don't need ironing or hand washing.

Oh, and I sincerely pity all the sales people out there that have to listen to eight hours of complete shit Christmas music while they work. At least E. Carson St. is playing the Shins and not complete shit Christmas muzac.

OK. Of all the things that rile me up about today's political situation, this is yet another. Constitutional amendments afoot to this tone:

"Neither the federal government nor any state shall predicate benefits, privileges, rights or immunities on the existence, recognition or presumption of non-marital sexual relationships."

Where is the separation of Church and State? We have all but abolished the separation of Corporation and State, which I'm not sure the Founding Fathers could foresee. And, yes, it's a continuing battle to keep the church out of it (and it never really has been), but dammit, could the religious zealots effing keep out of it? Of course not, but I'm about ready at this point to give money to some Civil Liberties group who is a powerhouse in Washington to fight for me.

The Democracy is a farce. Money talks. I don't have much, but a lot of people with a little money can, I'd like to believe, do something.

I support Gay Marriage, but we are so far from seeing that as a reality, it's pointless to get any hopes up at this point. But Civil Unions and domestic partner benefits help everyone. Even my father. To have recognition of substantial relationships helps the economy and helps people put a label on non-marital relationships (because, yes, society must put a label on everything). The Religious Right is stumbling all over themselves trying to stamp out non-marital relationships/unions. Get over it. Wake up! People who love each other are living together, _sleeping together_, and enjoying healthy lifestyles.

Some of us don't want to get married, at least not now. Some can't get married, because the love of their life is the same sex as they are.

Please don't take away our domestic partner status.

Time to bone up on Pittsburgh History in the next few weeks with the Heinz Pittsburgh Regional History Center and the Frick Art and Historical Center.

I've been spoiled in DC where so many of the museums are _free_... Tomorrow will be catching up over lunch with friends in town for Thanksgiving, but maybe next Saturday can be a museum day.

Rain.
November rain.
Post-Thanksgiving drizzle.
Cars on the streets,
water on the streets,
water on the jackets,
in the hair.
Rain on the mind.
People on the mind.
Work, just a little, on the mind.
Time for a nap.
Will muster later.
Will go out again,
later.

I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving yesterday.

Mine was very nice. I didn't realize what I was getting myself into by taking up an invitation to spend Thanksgiving with a pair of friends and their family.

I showed up about an hour before dinner and, standing in the kitchen looking out to the tables, saw that this was a _large_ event.

My presence rounded the total out to thirty. Folks had flown in from Jamaica, California, and Kentucky. Other folks drove from as close as down the road to as far away as DC. It was great: A big family, bountiful table, and plenty of wine and port.

And then there was poker. This family plays poker like other families play scrabble. The little kids stand at your side asking if they can put your bets on the table, and the older kids (just so happen to be 12 and up) help fill out the table, asking questions on if they can raise yet or not but otherwise playing with years of experience.

I've played enough Gin and Canasta to be an old person. However, for some reason, poker has passed me by. Last night I played my first hands of poker, and it was good. The father of the house let me sit over his shoulder for a few hands and then I took my own seat. It turns out I folded on a few really good hands due to me not remembering what hands are higher than others but that's OK. I was at least able to tell when I had a hand of complete crap. I played for a few hours until we all called it quits. I only lost $2.00 overall. Not too bad. Of course, we were playing nickel bets with progressive betting, but towards the end folks were losing dollars at a time, so still not so bad.

Obviously a few hours of poker does not make me an expert, but now I don't have to feel like someone who has lived in a box when I'm invited to play poker. I hate having to respond, "Actually, I've never played."

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Ah, what to do now. I think it's time to get back out and about. Just had lunch, and the kitties are fed. Now just to pick a destination.

I'd like to go out tonight, but might just hit a coffee shop and get some more work done. I don't _have_ to get it done tonight but I might as well. Maybe the Beehive again, but I've also had my eye on another coffee shop I passed last Saturday near the PGH Glass center.

It's actually a tough weekend. I was looking forward to this rare time off from work. I was looking forward to spending time with someone I'd like to spend more time with. Things have turned, though. Patience is so hard.

So, despite everything else, I still do have today off. It's time to get out and see some more of Pittsburgh. Who knows, maybe something fabulous will turn up for tonight.

Happy Thanksgiving!

So, I finally went into Beehive, the coffee house at 14th and E. Carson.

Fantastic. So glad I got up from my nap.

Got good coffee, got stuff done, got good people watching, got good pictures, and got excited that it's not very far from me.

Like most of PGH, there is no website for Beehive, but I did find this, just click on "Beehive."

I'll be catching up on picture posts this weekend. After a while tonight I moved to the window seat of the coffee house so that I could take some street pictures. I discovered a new beauty in car lights: 100% near focus makes them into perfect circles. This may not sound exciting, but just wait until you see the pics. OK. You still may not be excited, but this will be great for other spots around town with busy business lights and steady street traffic. One day when I make movies from pictures, these will be ridiculously great.

Some of you may have already discovered this little gem of glory, but for the rest of us, here's a quick must-do:

1. Go to Google.

2. Enter "weapons of mass destruction" and click the "I'm Feeling Lucky" tab.

3. Enjoy.

(Thanks to the Man From the Future.)

WooHoo!!! Home from work!!!

Looking forward to a great Thanksgiving with friends tomorrow.

I'm also looking forward to the nap I'm about to take... Collected some things from work that need to be done this weekend and actually broke my policy and brought them home (I try to keep work at work, usually). There's a lot of reading that needs to be done, figured I'd change things up a bit and head down to E. Carson street tonight for a little coffee house studying.

Maybe the stuff I'm supposed to have done by Monday will sit better over warm coffee and background chatter.

It's a great fall day out today. Gray and chilly, but not dismal. I love how sound travels further in the cold weather.

Hurray!!! We'll be getting out of work early today!!!

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I went to Target tonight. The snackbar at work is bare and I, being the keeper of said snackbar, needed to restock.

I'm trying to find a one-stop alternative to Wal-Mart. We all know they are evil, and despite my strange fascination with Wal-Mart, I went to Target tonight. I don't support Wal-Mart's evil practices.

It won't be one-stop, however. They don't have the packs of full-sized candy bars. They also don't have tea, or at least I couldn't find it.

They did, however, have one pair of women's pants that fit. The search is over, for now. A simple pair of pants. They, too, had many pants that were inches too long, cut for heels. I'm talking about cotton kakis, not dress pants. Why in the hell would I want to wear heels with my work kakis? I don't.

Also found a pair of boys pants that fit. Boys size 16. The kicker: they are half the price of women's pants. This is absurd, but hey, I have two pairs of new pants now.

Target does have a crapload of very ugly sweaters. Pittsburgh itself has a crapload of very ugly sweaters, and Target is just giving them what they want. I guess.

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I'm an engineer.

OK, just barely, but it's my job description and I get paid for it. I'd like to think that, at times, I'm actually good at it. We are presented with problems (sometimes ones we created ourselves) and we fix them. We _engineer_ a solution. And it's satisfying.

I'm also me.

OK, I'm very much me, despite myself sometimes. It's not my job description, but I live it and usually really like it. I'd like to think that, at times, I'm actually good at it (the living part, at least). I am presented with opportunities (sometimes ones I've almost created) and I take them. I make decisions. And it's exciting.

It's also hard. It's hard to live every day and take it all in. To process it. The living part isn't all that hard (eat, breath, sleep, do), but knowing what you are _supposed_ to do is hard. There are no equations, charts, graphs, calculators, or modeling simulations. Thank god. But it's hard sometimes to consult yourself. When you are in the thick of it, it's hard to zoom out.

It's contorted enough when your decisions only involve you. But they rarely do. In the end you are the one who has to live with everything, but in the reality of it, it's more than just you.

I like the horses analogy. Love is like horses.

I grew up with horses. They are big. Even small horses can be hard to handle. In fact, the worst horse I ever rode was the pony, Ginger. She was mean. Not so much mean as in 'nasty,' but she hated to be caught and knew how to get away from me. She gave me my first scar on my knee: tried to scrape me off between a tree and the fence. I don't even remember if I fell off. I remember mom telling me I couldn't let her get away from me like that or Ginger would keep doing it. I couldn't reach the stirrups. I was four.

I also know I kept riding her that day.

We got bigger horses. I got bigger. And stronger. And grew.

I have scars from horses. But most of my scars are from bicycles. I can only blame myself for the bike scars. And, if I'm honest, I can blame myself for the horse scars. Even the ones on my ribs and left arm from the barbed wire.

I was training a little horse that was about two years old. She was my focus when I was thirteen and fourteen. She had been so underfed when we got her that her coat was dull and rough and sun bleached orange-brown. After a few months, her new coat grew in and she completely changed color. It was slick and shiny. Dark, almost black hairs with just enough white ones to look blue. And her rump was a perfect white blanket. I don't remember the name on her papers, but I called her Dixie. Dixie Blue. She trusted me.

She was young but I could strong arm her when she spooked. I was galloping her in a circle in the not-so-large cow pasture. She was barely saddle broke, but I wasn't too worried because she had been doing so good. And, she was so small compared to how strong I was. She had spooked before and I was always able to rein her in and calm her down and start over. But this time she spooked hard. She took off and I reined her nose back to my left toe, literally. Horses don't run very well with their neck craned around to your boot, you can usually bring them into a tight circle and slow them down. She slowed down but was still running hard, and straight. We were running out of pasture and she wasn't turning. She couldn't see were she was going and we were heading straight to a tree (one of many). And the fence wasn't much further. She wasn't about to give in, and the tree wasn't about to move, so I gave her her head back. Figured whatever she did, it had to be better then her ramming into the tree, blind. Maybe she'd head to the right and I'd be able to stop her with some more room.

She took her head, was startled to see the tree, and banked left. Straight to the fence. I actually thought we were going to run through the fence. It was the original property fence my dad (and probably brother and sister) laid when I was a baby. The posts were so dry that they had begun to spit some of the staples out. The barbed wire was actually supporting a post here and there that had rotted from the ground. I hoped the worst of it would be a little blood and a broken post or two. The possible worst of it would be a horse tangled in barbed wire, never good. The fence was only about thirty feet from the tree, I tried slowing her down again. Not happening, not enough room, loosened the reins. I was thinking quick. But not as quick as she stopped. She didn't even slow down, just stopped. At the fence. I stopped on the fence. Left ribs and hip on a post. Still had her reins in my hands. I have no idea if my left foot was still in the stirrup or not, but I turned back to see what she was about to do before I quite figured out my situation. The last thing this needed was her dragging me all over the place. But she was frozen. She was so scared I could see the whites of her eyes just a few inches from mine. I was mad, relieved, and bleeding. I don't even remember if she scratched herself.

I have a temper. I wanted to beat the living shit out of her with the reins. However, I knew this would do more harm than good. She knew she has done a very large wrong. She was already antsy with anticipation of what I was going to do. We stood there. I tried to figure out if my ribs were broken and checked out my arm. She tried to catch her breath, heaving and heaving. Heaving. Staring at me. Heaving. We stared at each other.

I walked her around. On foot. Didn't say anything.

I didn't say anything until we had both calmed down. This was unusual since I was always talking to this horse. I had taught her voice commands and was almost always saying something to her. We had both caught our breath and we started from scratch. Worked on things she knew how to do for about fifteen, twenty minutes to get her mind back in it. Basics. Halt. Walk. Halt. Walk. She relaxed back down. Finally, I got back on. She tensed up.

We just stood there for a few minutes.

I rode her and worked on more basics. I rode her until she relaxed again. We trotted a little, she tensed up, and I kept at it until she relaxed. Finally I got her galloping, relaxed, and we were through. Done for the day. "Never end on a bad note. Even if you have to go all the way back to the horse just standing there. Stand there until the horse does it well. And call it a day." She did good.

I'm thankful to have gown up with horses. Of all the animals we had, they taught me the most. They are strong. They will go all day, day after day. And they know when it's feeding time. And it makes you feel good when, sometimes, they come up to the fence just because you are standing there. Usually they lose interest when they realize you don't have any food, but it feels good just the same.

I just followed a link to here.

I followed links to him before, but this is the first time I actually arrived at _the_ page. We've never met, but it's as though we have. I've had the pleasure of getting to know a close friend of his.

His writing. It captures. Go there, it's far better than anything you'll find here.

If I posted what I felt right now, it wouldn't make any sense.

Not that I make much sense most of the time. But tonight especially.

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I will say thanks. Thanks to everyone. Thanks to all the special people who are themselves, come hell or high water. In the end, that's what's beautiful.

Very glad we left early for the airport. Had no troubles returning through traffic, but the traffic was significant on the way back. More so than I had expected, but there was plenty of time cushion. Thank god. I'd be hard pressed if I had been stuck on 51 from an accident.

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Love
It's easy to love.
It's hard to understand it.

Self
It's easy to be who you are.
It's hard to understand the implications of who you are.

Love is like horses.
Strong and beautiful.
They can take you far distances.
They appreciate a well kept stable.
But they seem most beautiful
running in the sunshine through
open fields.

It's been a good weekend.

Sitting here, back at home, with Seth's homebrew Belgium Double and Seth. Life is good.

Primanti Brothers started the day with high carbs, fat, and grease. Oh, how I love Pittsburgh. Slaw and fries right on the sammich, just like the truckers asked for in the 40s.

Continued the pants hunt. Complete failure in that department, but there was only time to run into one store before it closed.

Tried a little DJ bowling at Arsenal Lanes (Butler and 44th St. in Lawrenceville), but we got there too early and it was a surreal intense league night... moved on.

Moved onto The Church Brew Works. Fantastic beer. The had good representation of beer styles, beautiful space, and very good service. Great night weekend ender.

OK. Must get some sleep for the early drive to the airport...

OK. Well, despite our best efforts, slept until 3:00 pm.

No Fallingwater today.

However, we can still enjoy PGH this afternoon/evening. I just wish the museums were open later...

I love art.

I'd make a horrible art critic. I love it all, I can justify just about anything someone wants to call art.

So, with that in mind, let say that we saw a fantastic play this evening. Quantum Theatre is running "Closer" now.

Seth stumbled across this while waiting for me at the Warhol cafe yesterday. The counter girl was telling him about it. She made herself out to be a minor side role. Try the main character.

The Space:
The hook was the greater picture behind the production, which Seth found out from the girl at the Warhol.. The lady who is behind Quantum Theatre feels the production _space_ is as important as the production. Closer was in the Jackman Building downtown at 6th and Penn. The building has been taking up space now for a few years, basically unused. It's not a super-scary burned out shell, but it's vacant. They set up lights, seating and stock the bathroom with toilet paper. Ready for production.

The Play:
Seth captured it perfectly, "I wonder how many people came here on a first date?" There are four characters. I won't go into the details (because, as everyone knows, hundreds of Pittsburghers plan their weekends around what I say is happening in PGH– I wouldn't want to spoil the plot for them), but here's a few tidbits:

1. There are four characters. Period.

2. The bare set is perfect.

3. You almost get nudity.

4. The acting is good. One character in particular is very good.

5. It's an accurate depiction of human nature in the way that spilt thick crimson paint is an accurate depiction of blood. Complicated sexual relationships based on the notion of love and how everyone's personal definition/expectation of love is different. And it is the differences that drive people apart. And back together again. And ultimately apart.

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Let me say that it re-affirms my fear of marriage. My fear of "settling." I don't want to "settle" for less than fantastic. I don't want to give in to the daunting task of finding _the_ person. I haven't signed up for the task. I don't even feel I'm part of the hunt. I'd like to think that I'm just more part of a series of events and intersections. It's just hard to figure out which intersection to take.
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So, great play. Anything that you see or take part of that makes you actively think about what it means and what you mean, is good.

I love art.

Thanks, artists.