Been waiting to say…

Toto, we’re home. Home! And this is my room, and you’re all here. And I’m not gonna leave here ever, ever again, because I love you all, and – oh, Auntie Em – there’s no place like home!

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So, what’s up with you?

So. 

I hope you’re doing well.

Mr. TR drove away today with our pets and all our stuff. Goodbye pets. Goodbye stuff. Goodbye husband.

Hello rented room.

And I thought I was ready to get back to Pittsburgh before? That was nothin’.

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Proof

Just in case you’ve been yearning for visual proof that I hung out on the deck at the Grandview the first week in March:

Also, I apologize for not being around so much since I’ve been back in Oz-tin. Truth be told, I’m a little melancholy and a lot distracted. Ya see, turns out Mr. TR’s job will be starting significantly earlier than mine, like months. So we’re packing up the house so he can move away. Not a pleasant prospect – my favorite person in my favorite place, while I’m still stuck in traffic on I-35. 

Bah.

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Travelogue: Peace, love, and a little dirty trick

Good morning Pittsburgh. Time to find out if I can still be funny and interesting while I’m here.

I woke up before my alarm yesterday, which was set for 3:30 CST. Threw on a sweater (yes!) and waited for Mrs. PF to pick me up at 4:00. I owe her a kidney. She played The Clarks in the car on the way to the airport, because she is funny.

The first flight was easy – at 5:45, we were one of the first flights out of Oz-tin, and the plane was practically empty. I had a whole row to myself, as Mr. TR drove up earlier in the week to bring bedding and home-repair tools in the car. Once we got to Atlanta and its hot mess of an airport, things went downhill fast. Our flight was oversold, the plane was held for delayed connecting passengers, and when we finally got in line to take off, we were informed by the condescending flight attendant that we were 25th in line for departure and could expect another 45 minutes of taxiing. At the same time, he reminded us that we could not lay our seats back, use our tray-tables, use any electronic anything, or get up to pee. I was forced to actually talk to the stranger next to me.

So I conducted a little trick, er, experiment. Once I ascertained that she lives here in Pittsburgh, I let her tell me all about it. I didn’t ever exactly lie, but when I told her that I was moving to the ‘Burgh for a job, she just assumed that I was moving here for the first time and could use some advice. Which was amusing as hell.

She warned me that it is hard to find my workplace. She told me that the neighborhoods where I’m looking for houses are “too city-like” and I should look in the suburbs where houses hold their value. She recommended visiting Wholey’s if I go to The Strip, and she pronounced it “Hole-eys.” She also recommended Primanti Bros sandwiches (she wasn’t sure where they were located), but she warned me that they would put everything I order on the sandwich – “even coleslaw!” – unless I asked them not to. I just smiled and nodded, and felt sorry for the next poor schmuck who gets her advice and actually tries to order a Primanti sandwich without all that extra crap on it.

Once we finally arrived in Pittsburgh, however, everything was okay. As okay as it has ever been. I’m home. I’m happy.

There’s a kind of peace that comes with being at home that is totally unique. You just feel safe. Mr. TR and I drove around yesterday to look at houses (after we had Primanti’s, complete with – gasp – coleslaw), and at one point we weren’t completely sure we were going the right way. I said, “Just keep going. How lost can we get? We’re in Pittsburgh.”

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Explain something to me

Explain to me… the decorative fireplace. If you have never lived anywhere but Pittsburgh, you may never have thought about what a ragingly stupid concept this is. So think of it now: it’s 19-0-whatever, you’re building a drafty brick Victorian house in a part of the country that’s under snow for 4 months of the year – do you build a fake fireplace that doesn’t have a chimney, doesn’t burn any wood, and doesn’t provide any warmth? Do you build seven of them?? In the same house??!

Mr. TR and I are madly house-hunting, combing real estate websites, trying to use Google StreetView as a substitute for actually driving by properties and checking for crazy neighbors or sewage smells, and a good number of the houses in the neighborhoods we’re searching are plagued with an infestation of superfluous fake fireplaces. Some are flagrantly fake, like the one to the left – just a wooden mantel glued to the wall. Others are slightly better replicas – the type that actually has a small bricked-up indentation in the wall with a mantel over it. Still others appear to be actual fireplaces that have just had their flues bricked closed… until you look at the outside views of the house and see no chimney.

Wait, did I say “chimney?” Because I meant “chimneys.” Because these decorative fireplaces travel in packs. If a house has one, it has five. There are phony fireplaces in the living room, the dining room, the master bedroom, the kids’ rooms, the bathrooms, anywhere someone might need a little extra heat and be longing for a warm crackling fire – you’ll find a mocking reminder that there will be no warm crackling fire.

I cannot understand what these early 20th century architect people were thinking. Were they thinking, “The radiators and coal heaters already provide so much reliable heat, a woodburning fireplace would just be overkill?” Were they thinking, “No one around here can afford wood, but that doesn’t mean they don’t deserve a beautiful useless fireplace?” Or were they thinking, “Oh shit, we forgot to build five chimneys, what do we do now?”

People. I think there are more working fireplaces in Oz-tin than there are in Pittsburgh. I don’t have to tell you how pathetic that is. Texas needs fireplaces like it needs a hole in the head. I know there are charms to Pittsburgh architecture, but at least the Pittsburgh potty has some utility. Decorative fireplaces? That’s just a tease.

Photos from actual properties for sale at http://pittsburghmoves.com/default.aspx.

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Pittcetera

1. No, no, no, no, and no. That is all.

2. Spring training is underway, and if you care, follow the analyses here, here, or here. This is the bestest time of year. Almost time for baseball joy, but no actual sucking yet.

You guys, I love baseball. I don’t know if I’ve emphasized that enough. I would anticipate a lot of never shutting up about it very soon.

3. Uh, sorry neighbors. Cleveland is number 4 on Forbes’ 10 most miserable cities in 2009. That’s higher than Flint, MI. Michael Moore made a whole movie about how miserable Flint is.

4. So, Mr. TR and I are looking for a new house (anyone wanna buy a little Cape Cod?), and one of the big pluses noted by a real estate agent about a house we were considering was its proximity to a new retail development. I was mildly annoyed by it (see the rant I just wrote about mixed-use neo-urban development), until I realized two things: a) this is an actual old urban building, the Nabisco plant; and b) we’d be so close to a gym, I might actually go.

Cheers.

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Resolved

It is the year that I move home.

I’m going to say it again, because it sounds so good.

It is the year that I move home.

I don’t need any New Year’s resolutions this year, because I made a resolution three years ago when I was standing in the middle of my empty house, feeling like that house looked a lot like the inside of my heart. I resolved that I would come home again. And now I will.

We planned our move because we thought it would be a Good Thing for the TR family. We were taking next steps in our careers, we were adventuring out to a new exciting growing place. But we actually moved because neither of us had the stones to say, “Wait! I changed my mind! I don’t want to leave Pittsburgh, I want to stay.” At least, not until it was too late – the job contracts were signed, the house was leased, the busted Honda was sold.

In the end though, we both admitted that we had indeed had a change of heart. We knew that neither of us was brimming with enthusiasm for the move to Texas, and that we were already wondering how to get home. It was with heavy hearts that we had our last night in Pittsburgh. So that last day, we resolved that we would come back after all – no last night for us. Not goodbye, but see you later.

So now, it is finally the year that we move home. No cold feet for this move – the resolution stands firm. That’s what New Year’s Day means this year, and I don’t want to change a thing.

But I do think I’ll try to go to the gym more, and maybe learn to bake bread.

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Look, I started a new trend…

…moving back to Pittsburgh. The Post-Gazette today reports a bit half-heartedly on an apparent initiative to publicize PGH’s reputed ability to weather the economic storm. I can’t tell if the author is trying to get us to take the Allegheny Conference on Community Development seriously or if he’s calling it out as a pointless charade. Should we be paying attention to this part:

BusinessWeek magazine said Pittsburgh is one of the best American cities in which to ride out tough times. Time magazine said Pittsburgh, on account of its tortoise-like approach to jobs and housing growth, is now bypassing the hares, the “one economic bright spot on Main Street.” Last month, Cleveland’s Plain Dealer wrote a love letter to our city, “The Steel City’s New Strength” — “a city that once defined Rust Belt decay might show the rest of the nation how to weather a recession.”

Or this part:

Let’s conveniently ignore the city’s crushing pension debt, the city’s crushing regular debt, and the fact that the city is still effectively in Act 47 custody, and the fact that many of Pittsburgh Mon Valley suburbs are nearly irretrievable.

Which is it? Are you picking on us, or patting us on the back? 

How vigorously should I protest that my motives for moving home aren’t about the bottom line? After all, I’m in Austin, which according to the article was the old place to go for economic growth. If the new place to go to protect your little pile of cash is Pittsburgh, what does that make me?

Hey Mr. Toland, let’s not sound so bitter that a bunch of guys who moved to D.C. aren’t running back to get a new job so they can pay for their Lexus, and be glad that the people who are moving to Pittsburgh are doing so because they really want to be there. 

I really want to be there.

I had not, however, heard before of the article in the Cleveland Plain-Dealer extolling our virtues. I’ve been trying to mine Cleveland.com to find it, but it seems to have disappeared like a Browns first quarter lead. Anybody have a copy they could share?

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Conversion

Folks proselytize all the time.  About politics, religion, electric cars, sushi, or video game systems – anything that engenders strong feelings invariably engenders the desire to spread those feelings to others.  I always felt that these efforts were a waste of precious energy.  Surely no mind had ever been changed by this kind of thing.

Until this week, when friends of ours, both lifelong Texas residents and thus henceforth known as the TX Friends, announced that they had been convinced by Mr. TR’s and my incessant lobbying about how wonderful it is to live in Pittsburgh.  They want to move there too.  Maybe before we even get there.

Whoa.

I didn’t know I had this kind of persuasive power.  I wonder what else I can use it for.

Now to be fair, the TXF’s minds were fertile ground already – they have made it no secret that they’re more tired of living in West Texas than we are of living in Central Texas.  And this plan to pack up and leave may end up being short-lived – they’ve dreamed up previous escape plans that haven’t manifested.  

And let’s face it:  it’s not my persuasive power, it’s Pittsburgh’s.  It’s a seed that, when planted, grows.  Like the Playstation 3.  Oh how I love it!  It’s great.  I’ve been playing Madden 09, and I’m getting better all the time.  Everyone should have one…

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When you aren’t looking

I like change. I think it’s good, and I seek it often. But I find myself upset by changes that happen back home when I’m not there. It’s one thing to experience the changes, to roll with them, to be able to say goodbye when necessary. It’s quite another to read about change on the internet, and to come back and find things different.

Things I’m not ready for just yet:

• Replacement of signage on the Parkway West designating the whole length I-376, scheduled to begin in January. But I like seeing signs telling me I’m traveling south on I-279, when I’m clearly driving northwest. It’s fun explaining that to tourists.
• The abandonment of the historic Penn Brewery on the Nor’side. Yes I know the beer will still be available. No it won’t be the same.
• The new and improved Boulevard of the Allies. I’ll be working in Oakland, like I always have – the drive into the heart of it is as automatic to me as filing my nails. The new route is likely to result in near-death experiences every day for the first two months I’m home.
• Tiffany’s at Ross Park Mall. Why? Why was this necessary? Had the Tiffany’s people never actually been to Ross Park before they planned this? Nordstrom I’m okay with – they sell my bra size. TMI, sorry.
• Drink tax. Enough said.
• Pittsburgh’s premier concert venue moving to Sandcastle. Seriously? Sandcastle? Chevy Amphitheatre (née IC Light Amphitheatre) wasn’t the most awesome venue on earth or anything, but I saw the Pixies there. Come on. Don’t move it out of town. The suckiness of this move is, of course, compounded by the fact that they haven’t even reopened yet.

Post script:  Consol Energy Center, eh? Okay, sure, why not.

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