Pittsburgh Blue Hens’ First Summer Picnic

Posted in Blue Hens in the Burgh by

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Once again, I was taken aback by the enthusiasm and college pride shown by my fellow Delaware alumni.

Last weekend, the UD Pittsburgh Alumni Club hosted a Blue Hen Picnic event in North Park. As the newly instated Vice President of the club, I had decided back in April or May that this would be the perfect event. I believed that by having a casual summer picnic, we could break away from the happy hour, downtown crowd of the usual events and start to attract new alumni, bring some families out, gain a reputation as a club that has various events for all interests, ages, and life stages. Continue reading →

Welcome to film camp, everybody.

Posted in Career by
On the set of "The Curse of Mokato" at the Joey Travolta Film Camp

On the set of “The Curse of Mokato” at the Joey Travolta Film Camp

On July 15th, I started working with the Joey Travolta Film Camp as part of my job at Steeltown. Steeltown’s Youth and Media program had partnered with the director of the camp, Carolyn Hare, and for the past two years, staff and interns have had the opportunity to work at the camp and act as “aides” for the kids.

If you are unfamiliar with the Joey Travolta Film Camp, as I’m sure many of you are, it is a two-week summer camp for kids and young adults on the autism spectrum. Joey Travolta himself (brother of John Travolta) directs the camp and has held similar programs in other cities for the past eight years. This is the third time that Carolyn has brought Joey and his team to the Burgh.

You can read more about the camp in my article on Steeltown’s website.

But I want to tell you the real story. Not that the article on Steeltown’s site isn’t true. I know it is because I wrote it. But this is my story and the kids’ story. This is behind the scenes. This is the heart of the camp. Continue reading →

Some infinities are bigger than other infinities

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After Pennsylvania’s $60 million in film tax credits were renewed earlier this month, the first movie that was set to film in Pittsburgh using those tax incentives was The Fault in Our Stars, based on John Green’s novel. I figured I’d better read this if movie studios think it’s great enough to create a major motion picture.

I’m a big fan of books. I read just about every day and I fall asleep with a book in my hand. I cling to characters like family and read every word of the acknowledgements when I don’t want it to end. When they make a movie out of a book, I believe the book is almost always better.

I finished it in less than a week. I couldn’t stop turning the pages–I laughed and I cried and I went through half a box of tissues. It was just as good as the news articles and the Facebook posts had claimed it to be. I like cynical characters for some reason—characters who see the truth and harsh reality of a situation rather than the silver lining. So I fell in love with Hazel from the first page. And I fell in love with Augustus because he looked for that silver lining and tried so hard to get Hazel to see it. Continue reading →

House hunters: Pittsburgh edition

Posted in Apartment Living by

In college, I led the search for a house for my roommates and I after our freshman year. We were determined to live off-campus as soon as we could, because that’s what the other girls on the swim team had done. We had few criteria–we wanted to be within walking distance to the pool and we each wanted our own bedroom. That was about all we looked for that first year.

And I learned my lesson. Continue reading →

Real World Summer

Posted in Lessons Learned by

This is my first summer in the real world. It’s the first summer where I have not had ample free time, hours to lay in the sun, or days to do nothing. It’s the first summer where I’m actually working a real job, a job that requires me to come in every day at the same time and leave when the sun has already passed its prime.

Last summer, I had graduated college, but I was still clearly not in the real world. I was still job searching and teaching swimming lessons and didn’t start working in a restaurant until later in July or August. I still had plenty of time to enjoy the summer months.

And all the summers before that my summer job didn’t count. As a lifeguard, I went in to work around 11 AM and spent my days in a bathing suit, soaking up the rays, lounging by a pool. I got nice long breaks where I could lay out or swim or read a book. I taught a few swimming lessons and left the pool at 7:30 PM, with time to either go home and relax or hang out with friends, knowing that I didn’t really have a care in the world, and that an 11 AM start time the next day was plenty of time to sleep in.

Just a typical day, on my break at the pool.

Just a typical day, on my break at the pool.

Unfortunately, I didn’t appreciate those days when I had them. I have had a summer job since I was 15. I started working at a pool–selling ice cream bars in the snack shack and cleaning up the wrappers that escaped the garbage cans. The next summer I was a lifeguard at a different pool and just couldn’t bear to leave that easy life. I knew that it was an easy job. It was a great job for a swimmer, and I could use the skills I already had. But by the last summer or two that I spent there, I started to hate it. I was tired of the sun. I hated putting on sunscreen every day. I was appalled that I had let myself sit there staring at water all that time, basking in boredom. And I had read too many articles about lifeguards getting skin cancer. I finished up my fifth year lifeguarding and never looked back.

It was an easy job. But I still didn’t fully appreciate it. It’s hard to appreciate something until you’re done with it, until you’ve seen the other side.

And here I am. On the other side. And now I see that the old grass was greener.

I am a summer person. I love summer. I love sun and the beach and warm days put me in a wonderful mood. So now I wake up in the morning, shower and put on a sundress. But when I get to work, I can’t even tell if the sun is shining because my office doesn’t have a window. I leave work at 5:30 PM and I feel that summertime is passing me by. I find it difficult to do anything after work knowing that I just have to wake up again early the next morning. My skin will be permanently ghostly this year, unless I try really really hard on the weekends to lay out–but on the weekends, I have other things I’ve been waiting all week to do.

Summers in the real world have turned out to be much more depressing than I originally anticipated.

So this week, I am lucky to be on vacation. I am incredibly lucky that the organization I work for was able to give me a few days of paid time off (and that my vacation happens to be over the 4th of July holiday, when our office is closed anyways). And I can say for a fact that I am taking full advantage. I have turned off my work email syncing on my phone. Our beach house actually doesn’t have wireless internet connection this year, so I won’t have to worry about seeing all the emails pop up on my computer. (I’m writing this from a Starbucks.) I brought plenty of books and bikinis, with the expectation of clearing my mind and de-stressing.

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During those lifeguard years, I would get to the beach and it would be just a different version of my work-day. Sun, water, sunscreen. But this year…this is vacation. This is the true meaning of vacation. It’s a relief. Taking some time to yourself to unwind and relax, to get away from the real world for a short time. And to figure out how to better appreciate the real world when you go back.

So far it’s off to a rainy start. But honestly, I don’t even mind. There will be other days to lay on the beach. Today I will read a book.

The next 100,000 miles in a Toyota Corolla

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My parents’ driveway is filling quickly with aging and dying cars. I have recently added to the collection with a 2004 Toyota Corolla. A car with a whole other life–one in which the owner, a female, applied her makeup using the rearview mirror, fixed her hair at the red lights, took her mother to church, and went through the car wash every two weeks. Purely speculation of course, based on the small and insignificant fact that I found bobby pins still tucked in a slot under the dashboard.

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Anyway…I’ve been driving the car around quite a bit in the past week that I’ve owned it. It is either unfortunate that my commute to work is so long, or fortunate that now I have a beautiful little car to sit in for 45 minutes so I almost don’t mind. This car rides like a dream compared to some other piles of metal I’ve had the pleasure of sitting in that surprise me when they make it down the road.

My dad and I had started this car hunt rather abruptly, I felt. The old ’98 Lumina came back from the shop with a $1,000 price tag on repairs and we said no way, after I had shucked out $600 not long ago. Then before I know it, we’re out at the dealerships weaving in and out of the 2009 Chevys and 2003 Hondas.

When I think of the term “used car salesman,” first I think of Matilda’s portly father with his hat glued to his head, saying “I’m big, you’re small. I’m right, you’re wrong…” And then I think of the movie “Raising Helen” when Helen sells the ugliest green car in the lot and gets to take home a ham for all her trouble.

Either way, these sales people are wheelers and dealers, telling you anything you want to hear in order to sell you a car. And that’s exactly what it felt like when my dad and I met Uncle Leo.

Uncle Leo walked up right away when we got inside and said “Hello there, I’m Uncle Leo.” Even his business card identified him as “Uncle.” Trying to be remembered? It worked. I’ll never forget this guy… (He might also be memorable due his crazy eyes–I swear one of them was fake.)

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We saw this car on our first day of the hunt. It was not the first car, nor the last, but it was the only car I actually took out for a test-drive. It was slightly over-budget, had more miles on it than I would have liked, and we were not convinced at first. I was sure there would be something better out there. Uncle Leo told us that if he were actually my uncle, he would sell me this car, there isn’t any car out there better than this here car, this car would last another 100,000 miles… And on and on.

I couldn’t commit.

We went home, we looked online, I plugged numbers into Kelley Blue Book, I added up my bank accounts. Everything we saw online was comparable for that year and mileage. I thought and thought about it, getting more nervous and anxious.

That was a Saturday. On Monday, my dad and I met after work to head back to the dealerships, trying to rip the band-aid off in one quick tug.

My dad was set on a 2009 Chevy Cobalt he saw online. If it had been at the lot, it probably would have been the one. But we pulled in, asked the first salesman we saw and the words “Just sold it” echoed.

We ended up back at the dealership where I drove the Corolla. This time we asked more questions. I was just dying to say “Show me the CarFax” and almost hoping to see a fox puppet pop out from behind a cubicle. (Kudos to whoever designed those commercials. They got me.) And I actually did get to say it, in not quite the same words. The Corolla had not been listed online, for some reason. And of course, we wanted to see the CarFax. 

One owner. One minor accident, probably a small fender-bender. Taken to the dealership two to three times per year to get the oil changed. Traded in for an Acura at just over 100,000 miles.

“We’ll take it!” I almost shouted. My dad is giving me the evil eye. Apparently you don’t tell car salesmen you want something that enthusiastically. Don’t worry, though, I made up for it with my sad-puppy face when I found out the unanticipated tax and extra fees would actually put it far out of my budget and I couldn’t afford it. My dad tried to pound me on that, I think, when Uncle Leo said he’d go to his manager to see what he could negotiate.

We ended up getting a slightly better deal than the listed price. Even small victories make a difference when you’re buying a car.

So I now get to drive my little Corolla every day. I’m just loving the sun-roof, to be honest. I’ve never had a sun-roof before. And hopefully the car has a lot of miles left in its second life.

The street in front of our house has become a patchwork of transmission fluid, motor oil, and windshield fluid, mixed with a little WD-40. And actually, my new car is not contributing to that (yet). But sadly, the old Lumy has got to go. Soon.

The '98 Chevy Lumina, summer 2010

The ’98 Chevy Lumina, summer 2010

A Blue Hen Forever

Posted in Blue Hens in the Burgh by
UD Pgh Alumni Club at a Pirates Game, May 3, 2013

UD Pgh Alumni Club at a Pirates Game, May 3, 2013

It started with a happy hour. 

I had gotten an email from the office of the University of Delaware Alumni Relations, saying there was an event for UD Alumni in my area and I was invited.

As a general rule, I had dismissed UD emails, ever since graduation. Delete, delete, delete. I loved my four years, but I’ve done my time. All they want is money and I’m sorry, but I just don’t have any. I’ll be paying off those four year for ten more, so nope, I don’t think so.

Except the words “Happy Hour” jumped out at me. So I begged my friend Laura to come along, just see how it was, we could leave if it was super lame.

It was a Friday evening after work. We ended up staying for a few drinks and a few appetizers. And I actually had a great time.

When I went to college in the state of Delaware, it didn’t occur to me that when I graduated and possibly moved back home, that I would be leaving all my friends and would be very far from the people I’d met and grown to love. My friends are scattered across the east coast and trickling into the south. All by myself in Pittsburgh, I find myself missing my friends from Delaware, a phone call just not cutting it.

So when I walked into the Harris Grill and started talking to some of the alumni, I was amazed. They had lived on the same street I did. They had frequented the same bars. They remembered the same things. Some were athletes like I was, others had taken the same classes. I found that I could strike up a conversation with anyone in the room and feel comfortable. I felt like I had found a unique little family there.

Laura and I didn’t stay the whole time, but I didn’t leave without the promise of more. I was introduced to a board member of the UD Pittsburgh Alumni Club and he mentioned that he needed help. I said yes and handed him my card.

So here I am, planning events, making budgets, and connecting with UD Alumni in the Burgh. A position that I never thought I would be in. I thought that my four years would end and that would be that. But I hadn’t realized, as I walked across the stage at graduation, that my college experience is a part of me and it won’t just disappear because I no longer have a Newark zip code.

Last weekend, I went back to UD for Alumni Weekend. I really just wanted an excuse to get together with my college roommate and best friend who happens to live in North Carolina, too far away for a weekend visit. But the trip ended up being a little more than that.

Before the weekend activities officially started, I attended a luncheon with University of Delaware President, Patrick Harker, followed by a new volunteer training session.  I was able to meet fellow alumni from across the U.S. who had attended the university for many reasons and had then become involved in their respective Alumni Clubs for so many different reasons. Everyone had a unique story to tell, but the theme was generally the same. They came across UD alumni or alumni clubs, remembered what an impact their college experience had on their life, and wanted to connect and reconnect with others.

It was a revelation for me. I have friends, and have met others, who love their school and who will identify with their school for as long as they live, regardless of alumni clubs or networking. But those people go to “football schools”–Penn State, Ohio State, Pitt, Michigan, etc. Their loyalty lies in the fact that their school is famous in the media. People rally around players and teams, whether they attended or not.

And here I was at UD, meeting people of every age who feel that way, despite the fact that our school is not a “football school.” These people were genuinely happy to be back on campus with fellow volunteers, to tell their story, and to find new ways to engage alumni.

I learned how much Alumni Relations and the Alumni Association has grown in the past few years and how much more active alumni have become across the country. President Harker expressed his sincere thanks, acknowledging that it couldn’t be done without volunteers like us who plan events and spread the word.

After lunch, the new volunteers broke off into groups to brainstorm about events and come up with solutions to common challenges that every club faces. These challenges include having fellow board members who are too busy to help plan events or getting stuck in the rut of having the same type of events over and over, among others.

I realized that a lot of the clubs in different cities have very few board members, just like Pittsburgh, or they are brand new and are struggling with pulling new members in, also like Pittsburgh. It was comforting to hear the stories, struggles and successes of others, and I learned I was not alone.

I came back armed with inspiration and new ideas for events and ways to connect with alumni in my area. As a young professional, I feel that I  have the advantage in this Alumni Club-situation. I can plan these events, gaining valuable experience in the process–learning communication and marketing skills–and I can make connections and expand my professional network with the people I meet. The way I see it, this is a win-win for me.

I am (slowly but surely) learning to  plan these events and am becoming more confident in my new role. Not to mention, I’m meeting some pretty awesome people, who have amazing stories to tell.

 

If you are a UD alum in the Pittsburgh area, you can follow the UD Pittsburgh Alumni Club on Facebook here or find out more about UD Alumni Relations and Alumni Clubs in general here. 

Fourteen Weddings

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As of yesterday, 14 of the 18 cousins I have on my mom’s side are married. And I have been lucky enough to attend 12 of those Ohio weddings, one of them as a bridesmaid.

My family has come to accept and love these weddings, looking forward to the next one as soon as the doors close on the receptions. I’ve always loved the romance of it all–the way the word “love” slips easily in between sentences and echoes through the church rafters. The way the bride and groom smile at each other and whisper during the first dance (I’ve always wondered what they talk about…) The way that seeing one couple happily starting their journey together makes all the other couples fall in love all over again.

941887_10201108533545574_682753255_nMy parents and siblings have been through a lot at these weddings. We know what to expect at most of them. We wait anxiously to see the dress the bride chose, craning our necks to watch her walk down the aisle (because inevitably we were late and are seated in the back along the wall). We ooh and ahh over the bridesmaids and the flowers and the centerpieces. We take advantage of everything offered and are usually one of the last to leave. We eat, drink, dance and use the little toiletries provided for the girls in the bathrooms. We play the name game and try to remember the names of all the cousins and who’s married to who. Then we start on their kids, but we’ve about given up at this point. The family is getting too big.

When I was younger, I was often too shy to dance much at the weddings. We would sit with our chairs facing the dance floor and watch our parents start doing the YMCA. Sometimes I would get up the courage to do the Chicken Dance, or to dance with my dad during a slower song. But I do remember they would play this funny song that sounded like, “Hang on Sloopy, Sloopy hang on, O-H-I-O.” (Anyone in Ohio will know what I’m talking about.) At first I would refuse to dance to it. I was extremely proud that I was from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania and I wouldn’t be caught dead cheering for the other team. And then I went to a few more weddings and realized it was actually pretty fun. It was the one song where almost every single person in the room got up and waved their arms around.

When I was about ten or eleven years old, I suddenly and astonishingly got over my shy-ness for approximately three minutes. A slow song came on and I was tired of sitting on the side watching my mom and dad dance together without me. So I walked over to a boy about my age and asked him to dance. And he did. I had no idea who he was and had never spoken to him before. He was probably from the other side of the wedding party, because I never saw him again. But we have pictures of me dancing with this boy.

I had my first drink at one of the weddings, when I was about fifteen. I didn’t order it myself though because I couldn’t bring myself to say “Fuzzy Navel” or “Buttery Nipple” without busting out laughing and giving away my age. But there’s a picture of me and my cousin, Kimberly, arms linked holding our drinks high and proud. (She could order a Buttery Nipple without any problem.)

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAThere was one wedding where the favor was a deck of cards at each place setting. My siblings and I played cards during the songs we didn’t want to dance to. At the end of the night, when most of the other guests had gone home and we were lingering with goodbyes, we snatched up a bunch of the decks that were left behind and stuffed our purses and pockets. We got home with about 25 decks of cards that say “Sarah & Matt.” Now I’ll never need to buy cards again, and I’ll always remember that Matt’s wife’s name is Sarah.

At another wedding, there was a photo booth in lieu of favors. We jumped in that booth over and over, whenever we saw it was vacant. The strips of pictures from that night still hang on our dresser mirrors, our goofy faces cheek-to-cheek in the tiny box. “Jennifer & Zachary” is pasted at the bottom of each strip, so we’ll never forget who Jen got married to either.

Some of the weddings had a “dollar dance” where you paid a dollar to dance with either the bride or the groom. I would beg a dollar off my dad and stand in line to dance with the groom, whom I had never met. (Maybe I was less shy at these weddings than I thought.)

525900_10150995743237357_838711366_nLast year I was honored to be a bridesmaid in my cousin Kimberly’s wedding. I met her friends and helped her get ready and held her dress in the bathroom. We rode in a limo and drank and danced and celebrated, and I got to see one of my closest cousins marry her best friend.

And yesterday, my cousin Nate got married. He has been bringing Jenna to family Christmases and Thanksgivings for years and it was truly wonderful to be at their wedding and see them so happy. My siblings and I didn’t play cards or the name game and I drank wine, so no need to worry about ordering Fuzzy Navels. But we danced all night and were still among the last to leave, enjoying every moment.

I wish Jenna and Nate all the best in their new life together, and the same for my other 13 married cousins.

Only four more cousins left–I wonder who’s next…

Just a little trip to Music City, USA

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My first visit to Nashville, TN– Music City, USA

It’s the home of country music. Otherwise known as “Music City.” Nashville.

It’s a city so full of intrigue that they made a whole television series based on its incredible drama.

And I got to see it! (I know this post is a little late. But better late than never right?)

IMG_0183Two weeks ago, I visited my friend, Kristen, who is going to school at Vanderbilt. I used some of my dad’s frequent flyer miles and got there for all of $35. A short weekend, but totally worth it.

The Nashville trip was wonderful. I hadn’t seen my friend since Christmas and we had lots to catch up on. Not to mention I love country music, I grew up on Garth Brooks, the Dixie Chicks, and Mary Chapin Carpenter, and I’m pretty much obsessed with the new hit show Nashville on ABC. I was so excited to visit this home of country that I could hardly contain myself.

I arrived at about 9 PM, Nashville-time, Friday night. (I was amazed to find that Nashville is an hour ahead of Pittsburgh. All this time I’d talked to Kristen on the phone and texted, I had never actually noticed and she’d never mentioned it. Shows my lack of knowledge about U.S. geography.) We only really had time to go out for a few drinks at a bar near her apartment that night, but that was perfect. We chatted until they closed the dining room and our server was trying to leave. Then we headed back to get some sleep before our big touring day.

Saturday morning Kristen took me out to breakfast and we started our day with mimosas and biscuits. (She said biscuits are a must in the south and I agreed. Delish!) We walked past a few shops where she said celebrities have been seen drinking coffee and such. Unfortunately we didn’t see any singers or celebrities but it was still fun to imagine.

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The Parthenon in Nashville, TN

After breakfast, we visited the replica of the Parthenon. I’m not sure why there is a replica of the Parthenon in Nashville. I mean, there is a story behind it, it was supposed to be a  temporary exhibit and then people loved it, blah blah… but it’s still so random. And people are there walking through it and taking pictures in front of it (myself included) as if it were the real Parthenon. Except it’s not. So it was weird. But pretty. It was located in this beautiful park and luckily it was a gorgeous day and the trees and flowers were blooming. But still…the Parthenon in Nashville? Whatever.

 

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Outside the Grand Ole Opry

So after that we went to see the Grand Ole Opry. We took some fabulous pictures of ourselves in front of the humongous guitars outside the theater and then we walked around the gift shop. We didn’t actually go into the Grand Ole Opry because tours were a little pricy and we had better things to see.

We drove back into the city to visit the much-anticipated Country Music Hall of Fame. For this, we actually did buy the tour tickets and walked through the whole thing. I hadn’t realized there would be so much country music and so many singers that I didn’t know and had never heard of. We looked through these exhibits kind of quickly, not wanting to read every little word about every single singer, so that we could get to the more modern country music.

(Side note: Kristen lost the back of her earring on the second floor of the museum. We saw it, unreachable, next to Webb Pierce’s 1962 Bonneville. Unless they’ve swept the floors back there since then, Kristen’s earring-back is currently preserved in the Hall of Fame.)

I took pictures of all the country stars’ exhibits that I know and love. It felt a little awkward taking pictures of one old guitar after another, old boots and million-dollar dresses that were probably only worn once. I don’t think those will be the pictures I’ll cherish from the trip. But for some reason I still felt the need to have photos of the things that once belonged to my idols.

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Taylor Swift’s guitar in the Country Music Hall of Fame

Of course the crowd around Taylor Swift’s flashy rhinestone-studded guitar was large, but we managed to get pictures with her belongings as well. They even had an exhibit for the TV show, Nashville, with Rayna’s and Juliet’s dresses (weird because those are not actually real people) and the original script signed by all the cast members.

After the Hall of Fame we headed to the pedestrian bridge, where they shoot the intimate, heart-felt scenes with Rayna and Deacon. Then it was on to Broadway! Now this street was magical, for someone who loves country music. It was 2:30 in the afternoon and country music is just spilling onto the street from every window and doorway. People are singing along, dancing in cowboy boots and drinking beer. So that’s exactly what we did, making our way from one bar to the next, stopping at a few souvenir stores along the way. We had dinner reservations at Pucketts and ordered their famous barbecue pulled pork. We walked past the Ryman Auditorium on the way but didn’t have time to stop in.

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The famous Bluebird Cafe

After dinner, we headed to the Bluebird Cafe. I expected this grand bar, but it was awkwardly situated in a strip mall next to a hair salon, a dry-cleaners and a children’s store. Unfortunately, we didn’t have reservations there and the stand-by line was too long to waste our time waiting in it. But I got some pretty great pictures outside!

Later that night, we went back to Broadway to enjoy more drinks and music with the late-night crowd. We went to Honkytonk Central and danced on the stage at The Stage. We made some friends and had a ball.

The next day, we slept in and relaxed, watching movies before I caught my flight back to my boring hometown of Pittsburgh.

Pedestrian bridge in Nashville

Pedestrian bridge in Nashville