Chihuly at the Phipps: WOW!

Our daughter flew in from Chicago for the weekend, and we wanted to do something besides join the feral mall shoppers. The Phipps Conservatory and Botanical Gardens has been featuring a glass installation by renowned artist Dale Chihuly. I had been wanting to go but, naturally, something else always came up. Lucky for us, the show, originally scheduled to close last month, has been extended to February 24, 2008. We had no problem reserving tickets at the last minute-reservations are used for crowd control due to the popularity of this event-so off we headed to downtown Pittsburgh.

We weren't exactly sure what to expect. I had seen some pictures in the PostGazette. They looked....interesting. But for some reason it wasn't enough to propel me out of my seat with any sense of urgency to visit. Yes, it was an EVENT. Yes, I love glass. Yes, I wanted to see the exhibit before it closed. But navigating my way in and out of town, looking for a parking place....those thoughts had tempered my enthusiasm. Thank goodness for my artsy daughter's visit and my distaste for crowded shopping malls on a Saturday.

The chandelier in the 50 foot rotunda at the entrance is the first piece that you see. It has been purchased with a grant from the Colcom Foundation, and that installation will remain permanently at the Phipps. I had read some raves about it, and it is "nice," but, frankly, it did not do too much for me. There were some birds who had found their way indoors and seemed to be trying to nest in it. Now that made it fun.

Step through the doors into the Palm Court. Tower of blue and yellow twists of glass in the midst of the trees. Hmm. Better. We followed the path to the right and were delighted to find some glass "surprises" tucked amongst the greenery, including a pink flamingo-like piece. More fun.

And then the Serpentine Room. Yikes! Stretching before us were tall, snake-like orange tongues among the canna lilies, picking up their amber color....striking against the green foliage of the elephant's ears, vines and grasses. We were ramped up to "Wow!" at this point. It was facinating to inspect the amber Cattails, to see the texture, the twists, the layers of glass used to make each one unique and yet alike. "Look at this one!" we'd repeat over and over again.

The fern room was next and still remains in my mind. Possibly because of the holiday season, the red glass reeds, some over 10 feet tall and rising out of the lush ferns, reminded me of a Christmas centerpiece with red tapers. I wanted to take it home.

We were so busy looking at the glass "floral arrangements" in the orchid room that we had to remind ourselves to check out the live flowers. We wanted to see the glass installations from every angle and debated over which angle was best. Who'd have thought we'd be so engrossed? Yet, isn't that what art is all about?

For the art-challenged thinker, the Fiori Sun in the Stove Room, looking like an orange, red and yellow fireball, was positioned next to a fire bush with a sign indicating the plant's name. Ah, yes....Installation. That means considering the surroundings and how a piece will fit in. This was echoed later with a yellow sun-like structure hanging over the Desert Room. No sign though. No need. By now we "got it."

The Float Boat, or"boat of balls" as we called it, was fabulous in the South Conservatory. Relaxing, colorful, soothing, exciting, it is a setting for sitting. It would be wonderful if this, too, could become a permanent installation.

The brilliant color in the Sunken Garden made it a standout as well, although we didn't think the installation itself was as well integrated into the setting. The focus here was more on the artwork itself, but that's not a bad thing. This Macchia Forest was made up of hugh glass bowl-type structures that resembled poppy flowers. The insides and outsides were different colors, with speckles of color variations in each layer. We actually circled the room twice to experience how different it was seeing it from each side of the room. It was almost like two different exhibits.

There is a beautiful floral chandelier called "Persians" in the Victoria Room that looks lovely reflected off the water below it. But our favorite room by far was the last one, the East Room. For us, it was breathtaking. The installation was fully integrated into the room. The blues of the glass forms played off of the blue-gray foliage and water features in the room. It was cool, calming and seemed absolutely perfect.

We were surprised to discover as we were leaving that we'd been there for four hours. Although that included a snack break at the Phipps Cafe midway through our excursion, again, who'd have thought? It had been a terrific day, and we're still talking about what a great time we had and how much our expectations had been exceeded. Wow!

So if you're looking for something to do, and I know that Frommer's just listed Pittsburgh as one of THE places to go in 2008, get thee to Chihuly at the Phipps before it's too late. It's not about the pictures. It's about the experience.

Upgrade Beyonce

According to my dictionary, upgrade means to raise to a higher grade or position. Does anyone else find it ironic, then, that Beyonce's commercial for a TV company [I won't name it because I'm not about to promote them] focuses on the word "upgrade," yet it is degrading to females?

Does she really need the money that badly? In comparison, her commercial for American Express tries to show her as caring, wanting to purchase a personal gift for a relative on her own [with the help of her AmX card of course].

I've heard both males and females of various ages comment on how the TV commercial demeans women. Beyonce does nothing but shimmy and move suggestively while repeating the word "upgrade." Upgrade to what? The message seems to be, move up to a slut???!!! Is that the message that someone with her talent and position wants to send to the young girls who look up to her?

Shame on her! She should be using her fame to make the world a better place for the women who follow. She's already got a fortune. Wouldn't it be fortunate if she'd look deeper than the dollar?

Our '53 Chevy

As she carried us over the hill, a sleek silver hood ornament adorning her blue-and-white skin, the old girl moved faster. Returning from the beach at Pepper Park, with sand on every exposed part, she needed a bath. Numerous days spent in the sun and salt air had damaged her complexion. Not much to look at in her old age, Reliable Nellie had been around and looked it. But could she ever hum when she had gas!

Mack and the White Powder Incident

Back during the Fall 2001 anthrax scare, my 86-year-0ld neighbor, Mack, and I took a trip to Princeton, NJ, with his wife's ashes to be spread over her family's plot. They had no children. We drove his wife's Cadillac up so he could give it to her sister, then rented a car for the return trip back to Jacksonville, FL, down the I95 corridor.

At 5:30 pm, about 2 hours after returning the rental car to the JAX Airport location, my home phone rang. "This is Sgt. Harris of the Jacksonville Sheriff's Office." [I'm thinking this is another phone solicitor trying to get a donation and am ready to say I'm not interested and hang up.] "Is this ...?" Well, now that he has my full name, he's got my attention.

"I'm calling in regard to a rental car you returned to the airport today. They found a plastic bag containing white powder in it, and we wondered if you could enlighten us as to what the powder is?"

ENLIGHTEN??? I don't like the sound of that.....YIKES!!!! This could be BAD!!!!

After a few horrified moments, it dawned on me. "Oh my gosh! I had my 86-year-old neighbor with me and it's his Weight Gain! It's a diet supplement! It comes in a big canister, and he didn't want to carry the whole thing with us, so he poured a bunch of the powder into a gallon-sized Baggie! [I'm in a panic, talking fast, envisioning life in prison as the reward I get for doing a good deed.] He set it on the car seat for the trip, but then we decided we should hide it with all this anthrax stuff going on. We didn't want people to look in the window and think we had anthrax or cocaine. We must have left it under the floor mat in the back seat! In fact, I don't think he even used it. We forgot it was there!"

As I paused to take a breath, the sergeant said he'd been trying to reach me unsuccessfully by phone for some time, but the line had been busy. "We tried twice to do an emergency break-in, but you were apparently on the Internet." He informed me that a police car was currently en route to my house.

I imagined the officer bursting through the front door, gun drawn, skeptically listening to my pleading as he handcuffed me. What would my children think when they saw the headlines with my picture on the front page of the newspaper? Mom Arrested!!! ---they'd have to cook their own Thanksgiving dinner this year.

The sergeant told me to get the exact name and manufacturer of the white powder from Mack so that I could tell the officer when he arrived. [Maybe there was hope for me yet???] When the squad car arrived, I met the officer at the door with the information and offered to take him across the street to Mack's so he could see the exact source.

Fortunately, in addition to having a friend who also used Weight Gain, the officer had a sense of humor. "Last week," he told me, "a woman called to report she thought her son had Amtraks."

Whew! I would remain a free woman. And Mack would have a story that he'd never forget.

The Great Fall

You know those movies where the hero/heroine slides down the steep slope and it ALMOST looks like fun?????

So....it's sunny and 47 degrees out...a perfect fall day...gentle breeze blowing the rest of the leaves off the trees...and I'm outside raking [yeah-I realize the breeze could be a problem for this task, but the weather is only supposed to get colder, and I'd rather deal with the breeze...]

We aren't supposed to put leaves out with the rest of the garbage, but since we live at the top of a hill with nothing but trees and vegetation behind and below us, this is not a problem. We just toss the yard stuff over the steep bank out back [you can see where this is going, can't you?].

So I'm two-feet-deep in leaves around the backyard, and I decide it's time to start scooping, carrying and tossing. I'm way too lazy to continue to sweep the ever-growing piles all the way to the edge...my arms are exhausted and the blisters are starting on my hands. Far easier to stoop and scoop. I approach the edge of the cliff carefully because I realize there could be DANGER there. Twenty times I approach the edge carefully and make the toss. But then, on about the twenty-first approach, instead of looking at my feet, I look up and out through the gap in the trees at the city of Ambridge. There's often a haze, but this time the view is clear. And breathtaking. Blue skies, hills covered in autumn browns, yellows, green and oranges. Just a ribbon of the Ohio River, looking blue from a distance. This is God's country! A truly perfect spot on a truly perfect day. Is there anywhere on earth that could....YIIIIKKKES!!! I am on my butt and on the way DOOOOOOOOOOWWWWNNNN the hill. FAST.

I'm reminded of the time I went down the slide at Lowry Park, using wax paper to increase my speed. But I was only about seven then. And limber. I'd like to recommend dry leaves as an environmentally sound alternative to wax paper for today's youngsters. CUT-RITE has nothing on dead leaves.

I suppose it might have been worse. The dead stump broke only my descent. I was able to pull myself back up the bank by clutching at the vines and shrubs that survive in the shadowy ground under the trees. And, thanks to Tecnu, the poison ivy just may not get the best of me....

livin’ is easy and the taxes are high - Moon, Pennsylvania

 Here in Moon, Pennsylvania, where the livin’ is easy and the taxes are
high, Chez Lounge is jumpin’ and the
bullets fly, I’ve managed to settle into my new life as a transplanted
Floridian.  Well, actually, I confess I was born in
Ashtabula, Ohio.  But 36 years in Florida would seem to cancel out the
Northerner in me.
 And yet, I feel like I’ve come home.
 The grass here smells like it did in my Grandma Van Slyke’s backyard
when I visited as a child.  Mom would
send me out back to play so she and Grandma could talk in peace.  The
tiny backyard, visible from the window in the
breakfast nook with the ledge filled with sunflower seeds for the
redbirds, was a short walk from the side door up the
shared driveway.  I’d step over the curved wire edging onto the footpath
and feel like I was in a special, private place.
 At the center was a birdbath made of mortar and small, rounded river
stones.  Grandma kept it filled with
water for the birds to bathe in.  I liked to splash my hands in it,
flicking water out at my little brother on those
occasions when he’d follow me there.  But mostly, I was alone.
 Surrounding the small, grassy area with the birdbath were the most
wonderful plants!   Nothing like we had
in Florida.  There was lily of the valley, which was also Grandma’s
favorite scent.  Sometimes she’d let me have a dab
of her perfume to put behind my ears.  Back then I didn’t mind smelling
like my grandma.
 There were the currant bushes, planted up against the sides of the
garages that formed the side boundaries of
the yard.  It was so exciting to see the bright berries that I knew
Grandma would turn into small, clear jars of
beautiful red jelly.  I would eat buttered toast with her jelly for
breakfast every morning.  Then she always presented
me with my very own jar to take home at the end of our visit.  It made
me feel special.
 Stalks of rhubarb grew up against the house.  Grandma prized them for
her pie baking, but I was not a fan.
Give me apple or cherry pie, please, and hold the weird stuff.  Pie
should be made from fruit off a tree.  Or, at the
very least, pudding!
 And there at the back of the yard was the pear tree.  At bedtime my
mother used to tell me stories about
when she was a little girl.  My favorite was the one about the time she
was stuck in the tree and couldn’t get down.
I’d giggled when she confessed she’d wet her pants.  It made her seem so
HUMAN.  I made her repeat that story
over and over.  “Tell me about that time in the pear tree,” I’d beg.
 Grown now and returned to the North,  I go to the farmers’ markets and
buy homemade jellies and fresh
vegetables that remind me of what I’ve missed over the past 30-odd
years.  I buy fruit pies at Fratangelo’s and
Soergel’s that remind me of Grandma’s.  And when I smell the fresh-cut
grass after mowing I am comforted at being
here.
 Life is so full of twists and turns.  It never is what we expect.
Given a choice, my husband and I both agreed
we never would have come here on our own.  What?  Leave the sun and warm
winter weather.  We thought we were
happy there.  But you go where the job takes you, and here we are.  In a
place with gorgeous hills, changing seasons,
warm people, and a sense of the familiar.
 Life is good!

Working for Child’s Tuition

As if it wasn’t hard enough to find a job after my children left home and my resume was filled with large, unimpressive gaps because I opted to follow the path of a homemaker, I hit the market when unemployment was at an all-time high and pay was low due to the glut. It’s humiliating to be intelligent, competent, responsible...and begging for minimum-wage work. Which I couldn’t even get because...somehow...I was over-qualified. Could it be the sign hung around my neck, “Working for Child’s Tuition,” that discouraged any offers? Did they think I meant $50 thousand a year? Let’s see: I can plan, implement, supervise, and make good decisions. Which is why I THINK I passed the intelligence test given by one of the places to which I applied. Question Number One: During arguments have you ever hit someone (A)once; (B)2-3 times; (C)into oblivion; or (D)never? And the intelligent...I mean CORRECT answer would be....well, gee. That’s a tough one. If I answer “D,” will they think I’m lying? Number Two: Someone leaves ten crates in your area stacked like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. A little old lady is rumbling down the aisle, her cart aiming at the bottom crate. Do you: (A)call the rest of your department to get over there QUICK to watch what happens; (B)grab the old lady, being careful to protect your head as she beats you with her handbag, and call somebody to restack the crates; (C)assume that whoever stacked the crates knew what they were doing and ignore it; or (D)clock out for your break? What kind of workplace am I getting into? Number Three: When stealing from former employers, have you (A)taken anything worth more than $10; (B)taken less than $10 worth of pencils; (C)been able to establish a large trust fund for your children; or (D)never been caught? Yikes! What kind of colleagues am I going to have here? And are the ankle bracelets part of the uniform? Number Four: If a customer is being rude to you, do you (A)ignore it and keep working; (B)stick your tongue out at them and say, “Sticks and stones...” followed by “nonny nonny boo boo;” (C)call your supervisor and say loudly, “There’s an old fart over here who’s making me crazy;” or (D)pull the flask out of your pocket and take a drink? Do I have the job yet? PLEASE pick me! I KNOW I can live up to your standards and be a real asset to your workplace. I even have MY OWN flask already! But, wait a minute! What if the computer was timing me on how long it took to answer each question? What does it mean if I took too long? What if I didn’t give it enough thought? I wonder if I can take it again? What if they don’t call me? I’ve got it! If they don’t call me in 60 days, I get to start over. Next time I’ll CHRISTMAS-TREE my answers!!! But what if they’re Jewish? I don’t want to offend anyone. If I don’t get the job, it just wasn’t meant to be. That’s it. There’s something else out there that I’m supposed to do. Or was I supposed to do THIS job but I just messed up the test? Is it MY fault? Is it FATE? The angst is killing me... I don’t think I can work now. I need to rest. How much money do we really need? My daughter can get a loan...and is an education really so important? Look at ME. I have a degree. A degree and NO JOB. There are lots of us out here...do I really want her to go through this? Whew! That was close... What if they’d actually hired me?