A few years ago, I unearthed a travel journal from a month-long trip to Europe that I took in 2006. As I reviewed its pages, I was struck by just how many details of the trip I had completely forgotten. And if the memories of a once-in-a lifetime trip that was so impactful to me could fade away – how much of my day-to-day life is lost? Sensations, emotions, achievements, losses, experiences from the mundane to the exceptional, all transforming from that specific moment in time to become that day, that week, that year, that life…

As I get older and gain a better understanding of how fragile, how brief, and how precious life really is, it's become even more important to me to me experience it to its fullest and to try to retain all of those little moments that might otherwise get lost. It's with this idea that I started the process of recording these moments – a travel journal, of sorts.

A travel journal for life.

Sunday, September 30, 2012


Pittsburgh’s cultural district hosted a gallery crawl and a pop-up market this weekend and the normally, ummm, let’s call it sleepy, downtown area came to life.
There was art, there was music, there were drinks, there was fun, and there was super-amazing-eyes-roll-back-in-your-head-delicious-dessert. (Seriously, I'm thinking about taking my toiletry bag and camping out at Bluebird Kitchen for several days. or weeks.)
Pittsburgh, let’s do it again.  Soon.

Sean indulging me by posing in front of Cell-Phone Disco
He said it made him feel like a dorky tourist.
I told him not to worry - only part of that was evident to others.

I really liked this picture I took in the pop up market.
I'm really sorry that the I and the P of the
"I want ___ to pop up" got cut off.
It makes the picture a lot less cool.
And a lot more sexual predator-y.

Some cool installation pieces at Space and Future Tenant, respectively.

Friday, September 28, 2012


 At work.


Ten years.

Double Blah.

But I got a really nice gift... 

That was exciting.

A gift that comes in the little blue bag is never NOT exciting.

Thursday, September 27, 2012


At work, our fiscal year ends in September.   The weeks leading up to the fiscal year-end are crazy and stress-inducing so our recreation committee arranges an annual Fiscal New Year party to help everyone wind down.  It's great as work unwinders go...  There's beer.  And cake.

From the looks of the cake we got this year, the decorator wasn't familiar with the concept of a FISCAL year....

Cake Fail

 Before you ask, yes...  This has been submitted to Cake Wrecks.  If you aren't familiar with Cake Wrecks, you should check it out, it's funny.  And keep your eye out for our Physical New Year cake to make an appearance!

Tuesday, September 25, 2012


I'm all for some good, old-fashioned self-pity.  I think it's o.k., therapeutic even, to wallow for a couple of hours or even the occasional day or two.  But I think that I may have crossed a line here. Today marks the two-week anniversary of the epic pity-party that I've been holding for myself.

A couple of weeks ago, I was playing tennis and tore my calf muscle. It made me really mad - Mad because I'm in pain.  Mad because I don't get to do the active things that I like to do for at least two solid weeks (doctor's orders). Really mad because this injury makes me feel old. Really really mad because it was likely a preventable injury - if only I had stretched and warmed up like old ladies should...

A couple of days after the injury, before I was even off of my crutch (I only used one, because crutches plural, are hard, yo.) Mike had to leave for some stupid hoorah military training important leadership training that requires him to be away for 16 days. 16 daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaysssssssssss...

I always miss my Michael when he goes away, but I'm extra sad this time because I have been doing nothing but going to work and coming directly home to lay about with my old-lady leg propped up.  I'm lonely. I'm grumpy.  I need to pull it together.  Especially since I'm walking around freely now, even (cautiously) up and down steps, and Mike will be home next weekend.
Sad picture of Mike's hats that I took while laying in bed. Probably eating Cheetos or pickle sammiches.

The DVR is empty and I've reached the end of the interwebs.  I think it's time to throw away all the take-out containers, toss my robe and slippers into the washer, fluff the ass-crater out of my couch cushion, do some stretches and call an end to my two-week long pity party.

Ahhh...  I'm looking forward to real life again.

Know who doesn't mind pity-parties? Naps and snacks??  Sign her up!

Thursday, September 20, 2012


I know that this is a stupid car commercial, but I get so sentimental every time I see it. 
I just see so much of me and Mike in it: The way she’s trying so hard, with her sweat-drenched hair plastered to her face, while others breeze right past her. 
All-the-while he’s so supportive, with the “you o.k., babe?”, the “go-jenny-go” sign, and waiting for her when she comes in last… 
That’s my mike, always there for me, through all my silly endeavors – and often with pizza.