Dad

Growing up, there were never clear cut gender roles in my household and often times, the traditional ones were reversed. Both my Mom and Dad went to work each morning; they took turns packing our lunches and dropping us off at school; household chores were shared; no job was too macho for my mom and no job was too dainty for my dad.

That being said, it was always difficult to find a Father's Day card that fit. The power tool, golf, and beer belly themes hardly resonated. I would search and search for a card that expressed my love for a Speedo Dad. Or an impeccably dressed Dad. I never found a card that talked about a Dad that could sing the harmony while playing the melody on the piano. Or better yet, a Dad that saved children's lives during the day and gardened, cooked, and braided his little girl's hair before she went to bed at night. Often I was forced to go with a generic 'Super Dad' card or the do-it-yourself route, colored pencils in tow.  

This year, while disappointed once again in the selection of cards that spoke to my father, I was pleasantly surprised with the selection that related to Mary's Dad. My husband - the grilling, beer loving, hunting, fishing Mr. Fix It perfectly fits within the marketed 'dad' role. The problem was, even then Hallmark's words and images couldn't detail just how good Peter is at filling that role.

He's not just any old griller, he's a grill master.
He's not just a fisherman, he's a striper saboteur. 
He's not just a beer drinker, he's a beer connoisseur. 
He's not just any old great dad, he's an all-star.

And the big thing missing was something that both my Dad and Mary's Dad do all to well; that is, quietly, calmly making sure everyone in the house gets a good night sleep.


If I ever had a bad dream as a little girl, I would run into my parents room, seeking consolation. While the ultimate goal was to climb up in bed next to my mom, my Dad would always lead me back to my twin bed and sit down next to me. Gently he would pat my back with his strong hand and whether is was the rhythmic sound or the comforting feeling like his heart was beating into mine, quickly the nightmares would disappear and once again I would fall into a deep sleep. I never remember the pats stopping or my Dad leaving the room, the whole house was asleep before then.

Peter has a similar ability to lull Mary to sleep at nap time and bed time, giving both me and her countless hours of precious slumber over the past three months. Honestly, Peter has been the anchor of our little family, keeping everyone cool, calm, collected, and above all rested when it's been needed most.

So even though his 'little grill' got him a pretty cute card yesterday, she wrote a new one, just for her special daddy today. (Okay, I wrote it, but it's supposed to be in her voice.)

Right after Mommy reads me Goodnight Moon.
Or Goodnight Pittsburgh, Chicago and Cape Cod.
Right after she thinks I'm asleep and dozes off too.
I open my little eyes and give the baby monitor a nod.
You come to my rescue and we escape to the baby cave. 
It's our special place, designed for just you and me.
There we sing Go, Cubs, Go! We call Rizzo SAFE!
We talk home brews, the Weber, and all the fish in the sea.
I love you for one last bottle.
For tummy time and helping me to toddle. 
I love you for making your special place into mine.
And for rocking me to sleep until the sun shines. 


To my Dad and Mary's Dad, thank you for always helping us sleep so soundly.

  Lo.

The Brewer, The Baker, and The Mimosa Maker

Had I ever made it to the esteemed ranks of camp counselor, I imagine it would have been very hard to say, 'goodbye' to your campers, especially after a great session.

This evening, that's the way I feel - like I just said goodbye to my very favorite Session 1 camper. And it's a sad, can't wait till next year, keep in touch, long live the memories feeling.   

When we moved this spring, I could already sense it. There was something about living in our new neighborhood that made you feel like you were attending a never-ending session of summer camp. Perhaps it's all the kids or the fact that biking is the preferred mode of transportation. Perhaps it's the large number of parks and pick-up games per capita or the patriotic bunting on gingerbread-esque houses making every day seem like a holiday; Perhaps its the morning competitions along the high school track at sun up, evening competitions block against block at sun down, campfire songs played by garage bands at night, or day upon day lined with your choice of electives.

As a freshman camper, I signed up for the electives that I was already familiar with - running and biking in the morning; writing and fundraising during the day; cooking and gardening in the evening. 

And even though Peter and I are only signed up as big campers right now, I guess this weekend presented us the opportunity to be counselors in training - to invite our first summer camper into our cabin.

She came, trunk packed, ready for non-stop summer fun this weekend.

First things first, as any good counselor would do, I gave her the lay of the land. A 13-mile bike ride through forest, hill and dale. These are the camp grounds - don't go beyond them without your counselor.

The first night brought a hearty dinner - Meatball sandwiches on Bee's baguettes - fuel for the activities ahead. In the evening, we cheered for Uncle Dan, who was doing quite well in the 5K evening competition, while sipping gimlets, the adult version of Canteen's infamous suicide. Campfire was at Bill and Megan's house. The skit where the senior counselors reenacted fast times in Fort Wayne was the best.

Saturday got off to a great start with a little morning competition - the semi-finals to camp's take on the U.S. Open. After a sweaty game, the standings were counselor - 1: camper - 0. There were running and reading electives, and then Saturday night brought a field trip to the big city. The tacos, tats, and Escondida's at Big Star seemed to trump the site and sounds of Conneaut. And Canteen last night was the best - Mario's Italian Ice.

Sunday didn't disappoint either. The finals of morning competition heated up around 9:00 AM. And in a surprising upset, the counselor in training won. We had Chapel or should I say, Church. Then an afternoon learning the ways of the brewer, the baker and the mimosa maker. Our homemade bialy and breakfast sausage brunch was fierce competition for Lake Donut's finest. 

A little while ago, our camper packed her trunk up and I drove her to the airport. So she could fly back to the Burgh where her Mom and Dad would be waiting and excited to hear about all her adventures.

While it's tough to say goodbye to Session 1, like any good counselor, I'm looking forward to session 2. Ellen, you ready?

Lo.

Video

Yesterday was a landmark day. Big news and big media to support it!

First, I turned up on the style section of the blogosphere. The Early Riser was featured as the first guest blogger on the HSS Feed, my friend Nina's blog where all the hot, haute Houston fashionistas turn for style advice. I don't know how helpful my sarcastic style tips were, but hey, it was a fun article to write.

Second, I received a package in the mail from Purvis, our wedding photographer. Within the little brown envelop were our wedding photos on DVD. And a bonus package - 10 or 12 MVI files - videos - oh my God, Purvis was shooting video at our wedding. Wow, yes that was one wild dance floor. Wow, sorry I accosted you, Tia!

 

Third, we had an inaugural grill - a changing of the guard from the 15, no 11-year old Weber that was dying a slow, lilting death, to our new housewarming Weber from Peggy and Jan. Peter wanted to do an eternal flame scenario, so inspired by Purvis' sneaky camera tricks, we dramatically made it happen as our neighbors looked on, officially thinking we were crazier than ever.

Fourth, it ended with good food. Calamari. The woman next to me at the Whole Foods seafood counter asked what I was going to do with the tubes and tentacles I was collecting. I told her we were going to grill them. She looked confused, so I let her and the seafood monger, who had his own secret recipe for the fried kind, in on my recipe.

Toss the calamari tubes and tentacles in lemon juice, olive oil (the good stuff), salt and pepper. Skewer. Grill for 3 to 4 minutes. Remove. (It cooks fast!)

Serve over beans and greens: 1 tablespoon olive oil, two slices chopped pancetta, 4 diced garlic cloves, 1 small diced shallot in a large sauce pan. Saute 3 or 4 minutes. Chiffonade kale, add and saute till bright green. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Add 1 cup chicken stock, 1/2 cup white wine, and one can cannellini beans. Bring to a boil, then reduce to low heat and simmer for a half an hour.  Stir in freshly grated Parmesan cheese before serving.

See landmark day. And with big sis coming on Friday, I have a feeling things will get even better this weekend. Watch out, I know how to use the video function on my phone now.

Lo.

Homesick for the Burgh

As one of my pin boards suggests, I'm frequently homesick for the Burgh. After more than 25 years telling people that I'm from Pittsburgh, it's hard to answer, 'Chicago' when someone wants to know my whereabouts.

I get homesick for the old Pittsburgh - the special places around town that stir so many sweet memories. The Thunderbolt at Kennywood, the blue slide park, Walnut Street, Bucco's games, school picnics under the shelter at Schenley, the pool and tennis courts at the Pittsburgh Golf Club, Mass at Sacred Heart followed by Bach, Beethoven and Brunch, cookouts at my grandparents house in McMurray - burgers from the brick-oven grill that my grandpa built.

I also get homesick for the new, reinvented Pittsburgh - a city that continues to grow, innovate, and culture itself. I'm envious of my friends who are moving back to the city, taking one step closer to the dream houses that we picked out for ourselves in high school. I wish I could try all the new restaurants in town the weekend that they open with my family. I want to go to the lecture series, art openings, shows, and concerts that all seem a little more affordable than Chicago's versions. I want to run over the bridges, bike down the hills, kayak along the rivers, and ride up the Incline to watch the city's skyline gets more and more picturesque.

Running 26 miles through Pittsburgh a couple weeks ago was great, but I was in and out in 24 hours. It wasn't enough. So I was so excited to return home again this past weekend - to spend a whole day Saturday soaking up the city with Peter. We saw the old, running through Squirrel Hill, Oakland and Shadyside. And by bike, we saw some of the new: Kassen and Chris's charming house, Showcase Barbecue and their Big Ben platter - two ribs and three wings - it was truly the hot spot of Homewood, the very hidden East End Brewery (our third brewery in three days) luring us in with their Growler Hours, and Adam, Laura, and Lyla's beautiful new house in the North Hills. Our little scavenger hunt around town was just what I needed.

Although back in Chicago now, three states away from my hometown, I've been able to keep a lot of Pittsburgh in my life. My license plate is wrapped with the Steelers, the Homestead Stacks are framed in my house, there's Heinz in the refrigerator and Heinz promotional materials outside of it, Andy Warhol hangs in the dining room, there are two terrible towels in the front hall closet, and all my favorite Pittsburgh memories are snipped, clipped and pasted in scrapbooks on the book shelves.

Occasionally, I'm able to put Pittsburgh on our plates as well. Like last night. We grilled out in the yard, and after some successful brick work earlier in the day, confidently planned where Peter could someday build our brick-oven grill. (The sooner the better - Peter's 15 year-old Weber has a major lilt)

 

We sipped East End Brewery's Blabber and Smoke Reichbier, imported by bike and car from Homewood to here, which paired very well with the barbecued chicken.

 

And we polished off just about half of the strawberry cake made with Simmon's Farm's best for dessert.

Until I return home again, here's to all the displaced yinzers carrying their Pittsburgh pride into cities far and wide.

Lo.