Catch Up

Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit sniffin' blog.

Or writing in this thing for that matter. A lot has happened recently, I haven't written a damn thing lately, yada yada. We've all seen this before. So I'll skip the lamenting over of the how or the why of letting this blog fall into the disarray of idleness (or at least I'll pretend to skip over that part while in reality drawing more attention to it), and simply move on with the catch up, catch all, come back post. Here we go.

Bermuda

-Gwen and I went to George and Cristin's wedding in Bermuda several weeks ago and had a pretty fine time. The island, the company, the setting, the reception, the booze, everything was solid. I had never been to the Carribbean before, and as it turns out, I still have never been to the Carribbean, because Bermuda is located in the Atlantic (you idiot), at roughly the same latitude as North Carolina. Did I know that before this trip? Of course not. Public school geography at its finest, of course.

-We arrived in Bermuda to the tropical atmosphere and when in a place like that its very easy to simply relax. Collars, muscle fibers, and attitudes all loosen - there's something in the air and smiles simply come more easily. What a great place.

-The accent of the dark-skinned locals was odd. Some sort of cross between Jamiacan or Carribbean and British. We had a friendly and uber-chatty taxi driver over to the hotel, and in that 30 minutes I learned more about Bermuda (and that accent) than I did in the rest of my time there.

-Within 20 minutes of landing I started singing the Bermuda part of the song "Cocomo" by the Beach Boys every five minutes, a behavior which I repeated for 72 staight hours while awake, (That seemed to taper off the last couple days of the Bermuda trip - it turns out you CAN sing a song too much) driving everyone insane in the process.

-George and Cristin had organized a golf scramble the day before the wedding, and so on the Friday before the big day I found myself staring 18 holes of golf square in the face for the first time in over four years. I had even't swung a club since Iraq (where one night we hit old driving range balls - which we had dunked in the translucent green fluid of broken chem lights - over the FOB wall one night for no good reason while smoking cigars), and I knew after trying a few practice chips that things could ugly quick.

The good news was that Pete and I shared a cart and were in the same foursome. Pete, much like my old roommate John "Boy" Clemenns, has what I would call the ideal golf temperament. He's impossible to anger - or even frustrate - and this proved to ease the tensions of the entire group of four of us, none of whom were very good. But we had a blast all the same. The course with its hills and ocean vistas was absolutely beautiful as expected, and even though one of the guys paired up with us was an Eagles fan, things still went pretty well. (Only three fist fights)

The other good thing was that this was a par-3, 18-hole course, which was a great way to "welcome" myself back into the game of golf. The first time I ever played golf was during the end of my third-year of med school. My friends Cameron, Jamie, Alexi, and I went out and had ourselves a time. That day was fantastic because my expectations were so low and when a good shot did come up, even better. And as I recall, we all ended up getting sauced and having a world-beating burger (best cheeseburger I've ever had) at a place called "Port of Call" in New Orleans later on to cap off the experience. It was a phenomenal day. And then I got addicted to the damn game.

During my fourth year of medical school I started playing more and more golf. Thanks to Papa Stup, I was equipped with some good clubs and all the proper equipment. I never had lessons, but I just played and played over again, trying to improve along the way. Something happened though, and though I did improve, my progress slowed and that 'slowing' led to dire frustrations. Next thing I knew I was leaving the golf course more stressed and frustrated then when I entered it, and as a result I made a clean break with the game going into residency knowing that my psyche couldn't handle the concept of spending my precious few hours off being even more frustrated and stressed than while at work. And so I stopped golfing.

Fast forward to Bermuda, where my expectations had once again lowered to almost nothing. I ended up having a great time that day, though I didn't play particularly well (my short game was a wreck - which doesn't help much on a par 3 course). After losing three balls on three consecutive holes, I simmered down and things went fairly smoothly. I even got a birdie and a few pars before the day was through. Plus Pete and I got buzzed if not more than buzzed and I recall vividly one time driving the rented cart from one beautiful hole to the next, staring out at the ocean, sipping on a cold beer, turing to Pete and saying, "Pete, I've had worse days in my life." And he agreed.

He and I talked about possibly golfing in Germany, which is supposed to have nice courses, and it might happen. If so, I'm sure I'll have fun for a while, then try and get serious about it, then get pissed when I'm playing consistently and yet not playing as good as Tiger Woods, then I'll probably start throwing clubs and then know its time give it up again. But for now, I'm back in the good stages of having golf as a hobby.

-Other phenomenal things about the Bermuda trip were the obvious. Basically the wedding and party and of course seeing a bunch of old residency peeps again. Good times.

Houston

On Sunday Gwen and I travled back to Texas - where everying is bigger - to celebrate my sister's graduation from college. Unfortunately our luggage was lost while on the way back (we got it the next day), but otherwise our travels went smoothly.

That night, at a party for my sister, I had a serious worlds-colliding experience (probably not unlike a much smaller version of what most people experience when they get married) bringing Gwen into a party which had my family, including extended family, the neighborhood friends, Eryn, and even my old college roommate Eric Hurtado (E-Hurt). After many hours of traveling, it was initially a little overwhelming (easily fixed with a few beers) but regardless turned out to be a pretty good experience.

Eryn stayed with us a few days in Houston. As it always, it was great to see him, and the trip included laughing at old pictures of me (high school varsity jacket pictures with wicked high school pseudo-tude are the best) and riveting games of head-to-head PSP action. Eryn destroyed me in most of these (especially tennis). It turns out he's pretty good at video games.

Gwen, Eryn, my sister and I went on a rain-soaked bike ride around my parent's neighborhood, and all of that ended up in a rousing game of Marco Polo in the pool. Yes, we are all college educated adults.

On the Tuesday, my parents rewarded Eryn for all his years of loyal friendship to me by granting him the chance (opportunity, really) to drive three hours and help my sister move from Waco to Dallas. Yes, he obtained the honor of being involved in a move which was helmed by none other than the legendary Papa Stup. It only cost him about 130 dollars (to change his plane ticket), a small price as compared to the infinite spiritutual reward of having things like the "balance point "explained at length and being around a U-haul with a dead battery in the 90 degree heat which could have potentially caused him to miss his flight.

Now its no secret that my San Diego friends are held in low regard for their moving abilities by my dad. A single incident of Iwan "not paying attention" some time after college cost them all infinite credibility in the area. But I like to think that Eryn made up for this with his uncanny ability to secure things to the inside of the truck with rope. His technique was so solid that it caught Papa Stup's all-seeing eye and Eryn was asked to repeat his rope-wizardry several times. Kudos, friend. Kudos, indeed.

In all seriousness, we appreciate Eryn's help that day, and as always it was great to see him and hang out, even if he did miss seeing the spot in Dallas where Kennedy got shot which we drove to not an hour after dropping him off at the airport.


Since the Trip

Since we've gotten back, things have been busy again. Landstuhl is on level TEN all the time these days thanks to this little operation we have continuing in the middle east. I was on call the whole holiday weekend, and it seems like the summer will only get busier as casualties rise and providers leave the hospital to go to other duty stations. More to follow on this, but it looks I'm in for a busy summer of work up here.

Gwen and I did manage to throw a little BBQ yesterday (Monday) for Memorial Day. Gwen bought a grill and though the weather didn't cooperate it stopped raining long enough for us to grill some meat and enjoy some good company. Gwen is quite the hostess when she tries - I was impressed by her ability to arrange all the things so well for the party, despite being on call all weekend.

And now - some pics. I'll try and stay more caught up on this thing in the future.




My Ernie Els-esque swing...








Three beers in...





Pete and I continue our World Tour of this pose - this time with Pete in full Bermuda Shorts






Looking Stylish...




And Again...







"Bermuda, Bahamas, Come on Pretty Mamma..."





Team Madigan






This one sort of stands on its own...

Ungrateful Birds

OK, so it's been a while.

Since coming back from our travels, and certainly since my last post, Gwen and I have been decidedly grounded into the grind. Work, come home, maybe work out, eat dinner, watch something, I play Madden (or she plays Final Fantasy), I make chess moves on itsyourturn.com (that's right - I'm playing a lot of email by chess! Its f*cking NUTS!), I obsessively analyze my fantasy baseball team, she plays Puzzle Quest, we go to sleep. Then repeat. Work has kept us both busy.

Our weekends of late have also been dull . Since our run to "The States" (as we jet-settingly call them now) in March, we burned out on traveling a little, and we haven't taken a single trip, or gone anywhere, other than to a little BBQ party about an hour or so away near Frankfurt. It was a little reunion for Gwen and her brothers-in-arms buddies from Iraq, which was cool, but only soaked up one Saturday night. (The party was fun, but possibly even better - for me - was driving back on the Autobahn on a Saturday night to some wicked-sweet Euro-techno radio show which lined up perfectly as we drove through Frankfurt. I was in heaven - Gwen would try and say something to me and I would reply, "Not now, honey - I'm driving at high speeds to Euro-techno," with a smarmy grin on my face. Awesome beyond words. )

In fact, other than the party above, the single most exciting thing we've done is tried to figure out what type of bird seed the local stoic German birds seem to enjoy. In a flash of inspired lawn care, we put up a bird-feeder up in our back yard one day - one easily visible from the window. The first day we loaded it with some generic seed and then glued ourselves eagerly to the window, like five-year-olds staring down a pot of dirt mere minutes after planting a potato plant beneath the top soil and "demanding" it grow right in front of their eyes. For many hours, we watched. And no birds came. We were distraught. So we increased our efforts - after cursing the ungrateful sots - eventually braving a German version of a Home Depot Garden Store (sadly it was a lot like an American Home Depot Garden Store; no black-spandexed employees, no techno - nothing) to buy FIVE different kinds of bird seed and do a little Pepsi/Coke birdseed challenge.

We placed piles of bird seed around our picnic table in separate groups with big stupid grins on our faces. (I felt like I was Wile E. Coyote baiting a trap for the Road Runner.) We also hung a different kind of "string food" up in the tree (it's like a small branch with chewable bird food - or something) near the birdhouse.

Well, again we watched, and were disappointed with the lack of turn out. We again cursed the ungrateful German birds, and things once more degenerated into childish name-calling. And so we sort of gave up. But no sooner after we had done that, the German birds started to surprise us. Once they found the food, things picked up. They checked it out, warily at first, but then more comfortably, told their buddies about it, and finally they made their selections. Most of the smaller finch-type things prefered two specific seed types. And that "string food" thing has become a universal hit - anywhere its located brings in several birds at once - so much so that I envision male birds escorting their lady friends to "the string" for hot dates prior to sassy bird love-making (it is Spring, after all).

And so with the results of our study complete we have loaded up our birdhouse with the "popular" food, slathered the tree with the uber-hip "strings", and tossed the rest out. Now so many birds are here that even the neighborhood cats have taken notice. We've found several cats napping in our yard at times, or better yet stalking under bushes near the house. At this pace, I will soon have the wild natural park - complete with cat-on-bird slaughter - that I have always wanted and so richly deserve. And right outside my own window!

Other than that, there isn't much going on.

I caught Spider-Man 3 recently and was more or less disappointed. Like any Spider-Man movie, I watched with the anticipation of a nervous mother, hoping - just hoping - it wouldn't screw up. Well, Spider-Man 3 screwed up. It tried, but it failed - most noticeably in the middle when Tobey Maguire a.k.a Peter Parker became "dark" because of his new suit. There was a 15-minute sequence involving him prancing around the town that was somewhere between absolutely laugh-out-loud funny (not intentional) and wincinbly bad. Also, in a brilliant stroke of directorial genius, Tobey Maguire pulled his bangs down "when he was being darkly influenced by the symbiote suit". This was ridiculous. He looked like he was trying to fit in with the goth kids on South Park. ("Life is Pain.") It was all very sad, and despite momentary flashes of good old fashioned Spider-Man fun, I found the movie to be a let down.


And now, Gwen and I are off to the States once again. First, its a wedding in Bermuda. Then my a graduation in Texas. More to follow. Hope all is well with all the (patient) readers of this thing.

Out.

Lazy Weekend and Lawn Care Flashbacks...

Gwen and I stayed home last weekend (even though it was a four-day), opting to sleep in and enjoy the mornings at our leisure over getting away and traveling somewhere. It was a good call - nice and relaxing - coffee stretched out over a few hours lounging around, playing video games, checking the internet (and not returning emails) - that sort of thing. The weather has been beautiful here, and I was able to get out and exercise a bit in the sun as well. I've resurrected my running career, having gotten sick of the 5-10 pounds I put on during the months of traveling, not working out, and eating like a pig.

We did yard work, trying to get a handle on our less-than-stellar lawn. Our lawn is not God-awful, just PRETTY awful, but nevertheless I'm sure its a topic of disdainful discussion amongst some of our neighbors, who probably gather around at night, eat schnitzel, drink beer, and scoff at the "Americans" and their "Dummkopf" lawn care. Even the 156 year-old lady who lives next door manages to keep her yard in shape (with help), so I suppose we should at least make SOME effort. (We can't get shown up by Frau Frenzel.)

And so I found myself mowing the lawn last Saturday with an old push-mower while Gwen trimmed some of the hedges and trees with newly bought clippers. The smell of freshly-cut grass always makes me think of three things. One is my allergies, the second is early football season back when I used to play Pop Warner - running laps, stretching on the grass, plastic mouthpieces, etc - and the third (and most poignant of my associations) is all the times I was forced to mow the lawn as a pre-teen and teenager back in New Jersey. Things started with a push mower, and then our lawn care graduated to a rider model. And always, Papa Stup would stand at the edge of the driveway, fists on hips, surveying my somehow inadequate mowing actions, regardless of the implement. He would stare me down, ever-vigilant, and just wait for me to screw up.

OK, it wasn't quite that bad, but still, my dad was a little bit of a lawn tyrant - a man who ran his lawn care precisely, anal-retentively and with an iron fist - with a teenage son as his slave.

One time I remember my parents were headed out somewhere some Saturday afternoon and my dad told me to mow the lawn while they were gone. He warned me not to "take the speed above 3" on the rider mower because somehow the wicked cornering speeds of the lighting-quick "4" and the utterly ludicrous "5" ruined the lawn. Well, they left, and being an apathetic teen who didn't particularly enjoy mowing lawns, I promptly fired the mower up, engaged the throttle to the inconceivable "5" and started mowing like the wind, shaking my head the whole time and thinking "how the hell would he know?". Well, that was a mistake. Sure enough, when Papa Stup got home a few hours later, he knew almost immediately something was amiss. He walked to the edge of the driveway, looking around, scowling. Then he stepped out onto the lawn and damn if he didn't go down to one knee to inspect the grass like a Navajo tracker who's quarry was afoot. Seated in front of the TV, I could see it all out the window. I froze, staring in disbelief, both amazed and horrified. Then my dad frowned, stood up, turned and stormed toward the house. As I recall, things didn't go too well from there.

Ah, memories.


I've been playing a lot of games lately. Madden on the PS2 is the staple, but over the weekend Gwendolyn and I bought "Puzzle Quest" for the PSP and both got promptly hooked on it, even though it cheats and cheats horribly. I've also been playing a lot of chess on itsyourturn.com with a couple of friends - and been generally getting my ass handed to me in the process. Still, I'm enjoying it. Gwen and I also still have our LOTR uber-nerd board game set up and in process, awaiting its resolution.

I also drafted a fantasy baseball team on yahoo which started as a "this will help me casually pass the time until football season" sort of thing but has since morphed into my daily obsession. I haven't followed baseball with any closeness in years. In fact, I only recognized like three players from my draft by name. Now, however, I wake up and go right to the computer. How did my team do? Why is my catcher sucking? How is my pitching staff? What does ESPN say abou this guy? It's addicting. And its worse than football - changes have to be made daily. Anyway, its been a fun thing to do. I recommend it, even if your only lukewarm toward baseball. Just be prepared to obsess and spend some time...

Lastly, Man Room is up and running, but that's a post unto itself.

Tschuss!

Yo VIP - Let's Kick it!

So, THIS GUY showed up on the wards at work today.

Landstuhl is funny this way. Everybody who's somebody - and sometimes not even that - comes out - usually on their own publicity campaign - to "visit the troops". We get everybody from some big VIP's (President, staff, senators, generals) to little VIP's (retired no-name sports stars, barely heard of actors, etc) and everything in between (a lot of pro wrestlers, NFL guys). Oftentimes I find this hilarious.

Today I was running around the wards, busy on call. I'm flipping through a chart and in walks this Michael Buffer with a small posse, which includes one toady who's carrying a large blue bag filled with something that turned out to be large red boxing gloves. After introducing himself to the staff, the esteemed Mr. Buffer wandered the halls, visiting the war wounded, and at each room would take out a glove and sign it with his name and "Let's Get Ready to RUMMMBLLE" written clearly on the back of it. (One of my patients showed me his.) I half expected him to start belting out his famous line every time he went into a new room, so that as I worked at the nursing station I would hear his bellow down the hall every three minutes on cue and be left shaking my head. Fortunately (and yet sadly), he did not do this.

I'm not sure how happy these VIP visits make the soldiers feel or not - most of them seem to have a whatever type of attitude. I would imagine most wounded joes would rather have their missing limb back and not have seen Michael Buffer, but I could be wrong. And as for internal medicine patients (much more likely to be the war SICK than the war wounded - or even more likely to be elderly folks having nothing to do with the war), I have no idea how it makes them feel. Oftentimes these VIPs just avoid their rooms all together, probably because it would be awkward if Michael Buffer walked into a room and said "Hey, you're 72 and got pneumonia - LET'S GET READY TO RUMBLLEEEEE! Thanks for serving your country, umm, 40 years ago I mean - and here's a glove..." But again, I could be wrong.

From a staff perspective, the VIPs are mostly a nuisance. If its a general (whom I will actively AVOID if I know they are coming) who steps onto the ward, then we all have to stop what we're doing, stand at attention, and pretend to be interested in whatever "rah rah, you're doing great things for your country" monologue they have prepared for that day. Work - or care of the sick and wounded - ironically grinds to a temporary but complete halt while this happens. If its a non-military VIP, then its interesting to get a glance of the person (like when I watched the WWE's Undertaker standing there half-menacingly, half-uncomfortable and mean looking, towering over IV poles) but then the charms fade quickly.

The nursing staff, who suffer far more of these visits then I do (being on the wards all the time), are often outwardly bitter after the VIP's come in and out and slow down everybody's work. Many question if these "VIPs" are really here for the troops - or more for their own publicity agendas.

I suppose in the end, its at most harmless for these guys to come by, and if it does actually lift the spirits of Private Snuffy then I suppose its worth it. And it does make working at Landstuhl a tad more interesting than your average hospital. Nevertheless, I also can't help but wonder if the nurses are right regarding the agendas of such visits.

Thank YOU, Michael Buffer, for making me think about these things today.

Travels

I've been back from the States for almost a week now - its about time I tossed some words down on this thing. As most people reading this know, Gwen is already at least two, and possibly three posts ahead of me, having detailed not only our trip but also what we've been doing since we've returned. Such are the "burdens" of traveling (and being) with someone so maddeningly efficient I suppose. And so perhaps this post will come with sort of an "old news" feel, but oh well - everybody can just deal with it.

There are some advantages to posting second, one of them being that I can simply refer any readers over to her blog for the details of our trip (If you still don't have the password, feel free to email me) and use the space below on my jonny-come-lately blog to comment on the high points.

For my part, I will say that the trip was both fun and exhausting, as trans-Atlantic traveling tends to be. Our journey was mired in delays upon delays, with nary a leg of the trip going according to plan (other than perhaps our initial hop from Frankfurt to Amsterdam), and so much so that it nearly became a Planes, Trains, and Automobiles sort of fiasco. In the end, I was sorry to miss the intended wedding, but there was nothing to be done to be done about it, and everything else more or less worked itself out, though we did spend a fair amount of time in airports and train stations.

And now, my musings:

-First, it was great to see everyone. Great to see (and spend time) with my parents, great to meet Gwen's dad, step-mother, and the rest of the Pittsburgh faithful, and great to see some old family friends (Ceil, Jackie), who always bring back solid memories of childhood.

-Second, it was great to be back in the United States. It was the first time I had set foot there since returning from Iraq, and its always a good feeling to be "home". I am grateful for the opporunity to live in and see Europe like this, but after four years I will be absolutely ready to go back. (Its just too hard being a football fan here.) Anyway, its hard to quantify how nice it is to be cognizant of cultural nuances, or how cool it is to walk into a Best Buy and know that all voltage and electronics issues don't even factor in - or that I can clearly speak the language.

-Pittsburgh is a great town. I had never set foot in it before, but after having spent significant time with both Gwen and Cameron (another person lucky enough to hail from the Iron City), I had heard many tales of this strange Western Pennsylvanina town with its powerful aura and unique charms. And I was impressed.

The city is pretty, with a tight skyline situated amidst the infamous "Three Rivers". The surrounding area is hilly, with cool neighborhoods built on industrial history (namely steel) but transforming nicely to fit more modern times. The local brew (Iron City) is gritty but rewarding, the type of thing to put hair on a man's chest without always causing blindness. Gwen showed me around the impressive University of Pittsburgh, we took an "Incline" and ate at some of the hallowed town haunts (Primanti's, The "O") and a nice restaurant or two as well. One night we even ate inside of PNC park (home of the Pirates) in probably the nicest Outback Steakhouse I've ever been in.

There was Steelers (and Penguins, and Pirates) stuff everywhere, and a more loyal fan base - or a town more defined by its sports teams - I can't recall. (Gwen's dad and Donna even gave me a Steeler's shirt to help me try and fit in. I even tried rooting with the accent - "Go Still'ers" - but I'm not sure if it worked. Anyway, as the Steelers are not a direct rival of the Giants, I don't feel like a "dirty" sports bigamist wearing the shirt, and I can even say with pride that the Steelers are BY FAR the best team Pennsylvania has to offer. Like comparing my sister's boyfriends' physical strength with my dad's - its not even close.)

All in all, I have to give the Steel City a big thumbs up.

-For the second leg of our trip, we visited New York City, which, with each trip, becomes more and more one of my favorite cities. I've always thought it would be fun to live in Manhattan for exactly one year to really get a feel for it. And had I not been indentured to the Army for the purposes of my residency, I think I would have strongly considered New York as an option. Regardless, NYC is great. It's expensive and busy, but I love the palpable energy there - and no other city I've been in has such a true international flavor as New York when it comes to the people (and food) one encounters there.

-Spent a hour or two at the World Trade Center Site, which I had visited before (in 2004), but which is always something to see. Again, I was struck by the great empty space on an otherwise uber-dense chunk of prime real estate in crowded downtown Manhattan. Standing there and contemplating the infamous events is indeed sobering. Clearly, the fall of the Towers has played such a role in my own life, of course, and this sense of connected national history is a different, and certainly more jarring, sensation to register when compared to experiencing some of the more sobering landmarks over here in Europe - even the dour Holocaust ones. To stand there and think in some part that I spent seven-plus months in Baghdad (even though Iraq had nothing to do with Sept 11 - but that is quite a different story...) because of what happened RIGHT HERE is kind of a crazy thing indeed. Hard not to stare up and imagine planes hitting buildings and people running like hell. Very chilling and certainly a little emotional.

The memorial they have up currently is simple and effective. There are poignant photographs and little distressing blurbs of text detailing the events of the day. People were strolling slowly by, taking it all in. The names of the victims are posted, one of which I was sad to learn was the son of the people whom we sold our house to in New Jersey as we left for California many years ago.

All in all a very sobering experience.




-We saw "Phantom" on Saturday night on Broadway, which was a great night out. What I find interesting about Broadway Musicals (Tm), however, is that the experience of dressing up, of going out to a nice dinner, of then hitting the theaters amidst crowds of other theater-goers and having cocktails in the lobby, is in fact far more enjoyable than the actual performance itself. Mostly I think this stems from the fact that I'm not really a "musical guy" - I find the entire story-telling device to be snicker-worthy, even outwardly hilarious at times. I knew I was in for it when the first words of the first song were sung and I had to suppress a laugh. Why is he singing? Why can't he just TALK about it? Does he deeply and emotively serenade his mirror every time he brushes his teeth? Is anyone else finding this funny? What the hell is going on here? Why can't everyone just settle down?

Anyway, this sort of attitude doesn't quite mix with he musical scene. I've probably just seen too much MST3K and other satire... That said, WITHIN this story-telling device, the performances were mostly top notch and I still enjoyed it. The singing was excellent, and the woman who played Christine was amazing, both in acting and voice, and I thought she blew everyone else off the stage, especially the Phantom, whom I found a little lackluster in his acting (though his singing was solid).

-Gwen surprised me with Business Class tickets for the trans-atlantic portion of our trip (to and fro), and I must say that it will be difficult to go any other way from now on. The leg room was vast (I had to stretch fully horizontal to touch the seat in front of me with my foot), the chairs went almost completely flat, and well, this picture of my chair control should say it all:




-And finally, some more photos from the trip:



Heinz Field with PNC Park (on the right)


The Burgh




The Cathedral of Learning at U Pitt (Where Saruman came out and threatened us)





You can really taste the Iron!



Being an Ass in Pittsburgh - its Easy and Fun!



An unfortunate encounter at the NBC Studio Store...







Saw Bill Murray and the other Ghostbusters here...



Empire State Building - Inside



Empire State Building - Outside


Spider Sense Tingling...




Calling for the curve on Willie Stargell



Now, back for a week, Gwen and I have embarked on a home improvement weekend (maybe Bed, Bath, and Beyond - if there's time). The most exciting prospect, of course, is the development of my Man Room (Tm). Stay tuned for details...