If the Shoe Fits

One of the favorite annual events of my childhood, along with Christmas and my birthday, was the yearly airing of the television production of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella starring Lesley Ann Warren in the title role. Lesley Anne was just luminous, and I was entranced each time I watched her win the Prince (played by Stuart Damon).


I looked forward to seeing it all year, and my friends and I would often watch it together. We would sing along with all the songs we loved so much, envisioning ourselves being lifted from our everyday drudgery by the love of our very own Prince Charming.

My love of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella never really diminished. I still get that same warm and fuzzy feeling every time I catch a clip of Lesley Ann in the role on You Tube. So when I heard that the Robert Morris University Summer Colonial Theatre (where I like to spend my summers) was doing the show this year, I was excited. I was thrilled when I was cast as the Stepmother.

Although I am now old enough to be Cinderella’s, well, mother, I do still share one characteristic with her. It’s about our feet.

We were talking one night at rehearsal about how unusual it was that no other woman in the kingdom wore the same size shoe as Cinderella, and our director shared her theory that perhaps it wasn’t a matter of size, that perhaps Cinderella had misshapen feet. My husband immediately turned and looked at me.

Let me set one thing straight right now. I do NOT have misshapen feet. They are an unusual size, to be sure- short, with an unnaturally wide instep, a narrow heel, and a high arch. This makes it hard to find shoes that fit, but does not exactly qualify me for a circus side show or anything.

I don’t know what Cinderella did for footwear before the Fairy Godmother showed up, but for years I ran around in 8 ½ W shoes that cost $19.99 or less at one of the discount shoe chains. These shoes did not fit me, but I didn’t know that at the time because I had never experienced a shoe that fit.

My fairy godmother showed up in the form of a salesperson at Lady Foot Locker, where I went when I joined a gym and decided that I wanted a good pair of sneakers to work out in. She measured my foot and informed me, much to both our surprise, that I actually should be wearing a 7WW, which she assured me would be hard to find. They did not carry shoes that size, and so she referred me to the Easy Spirit store across the way in the mall.

The Easy Spirit sneakers I purchased that day were so comfortable that my spirit actually was easier when I had them on. I wanted to wear them every day. I began to wonder if shoes that actually fit my foot came in other styles. As it turns out, they do, and it seems that only Easy Spirit makes them.

So, I set out on a lifelong quest, with shoes that fit as my Dulcinea. Each shoe purchase is its own little scavenger hunt. First you have to find a style that comes in a 7WW, and then find a 7WW that is actually in stock. Once I started wearing loafers and pumps that fit, I discovered that my feet were slightly different sizes, which means the more adjustable the shoe and/or straps, the better. And I never could wear heels and I still can’t. However, with time and patience, I have acquired a small wardrobe of Easy Spirit shoes, suitable for all occasions.

Easy Spirit shoes have changed my life just the way that glass slipper changed Cinderella’s. Wearing shoes that fit has been a revelation to me, a luxury I never imagined would happen to me. And my feet and I are living happily ever after.

Robert Morris University’s Summer Colonial Theatre presents Rodger & Hammerstein’s Cinderella July 28 – 31 in Robert Morris University’s Massey Theatre. Curtain is at 8pm, Thursday – Saturday with a 2pm matinee on Sunday. Tickets are $10 and will be available at the door.  For more information about the show - http://www.rmu.edu/theatre

But I Won't Do That

You hear a lot lately about people and their “bucket lists” of things they must do before they die. Me, I have a list of things that I’d rather die than ever do again. I call it my “chuck it list.” 

Of course, there are things that I’ve never done that I don’t care to try. Mountain climbing, skiing, sky diving, and bungee jumping all come to mind. My “chuck it list” is made up of things I’ve tried (often more than once) and never want to experience again. My top ten things I never want to do again, in no particular order, are:

1) Washington County Fair - I was a city girl who had never even been to a county fair when I was put in charge of my organization’s food booth at the Washington County Fair one year. To say that week was a living hell is a gross understatement. Beyond the horror and utter exhaustion of that assignment, I realized that there really was nothing at a county fair that I liked to do, with the possible exception of chatting with the carnies (the quirky and off-beat folks who travel from fair to fair to run the midway rides). Nonetheless, I attended several more times when my son and his high school band performed before the School Bus Demolition Derby each year. Seriously. I can’t make this stuff up.

2) Any Body Of Water- I am a non-swimmer who hates the feeling of being in water, even in a bathtub. When I was 12 I had to be rescued by the lifeguard at a local swimming pool. At 23, I almost drowned after falling in while riding the rapids on the Youghiogheny River. You don’t have to hit me over the head more than 2 or 3 times. I can take a hint. I stay out of bodies of water now.

3) Horse Back Riding- You know that old adage about getting right back on that horse if you fall? I am here to tell you that you never have to get on a horse again after breaking your pelvis in two places when the horse you’re riding throws you, even after the nightmares stop.

4) Canton Football Hall of Fame-I once spent FIVE HOURS in this museum, because my then nine-year-old son was determined to read every word of every display in the place. That was quite enough for this lifetime.

5) Any Production Of Copacabana- I have nothing against Barry Manilow or Lola (she was a show girl), but I sat all the way through one fine , well-done production of this truly abysmal musical based on the lyrics of the song. The very thought of seeing it a second time makes me cringe.

6) A Roller Coaster- I used to ride roller coasters, within reason. But as I “matured” I lost my taste for these and most other amusement park rides. I have morphed into one of those studda bubbas who holds everyone’s stuff while sitting on the bench in the shade, eating my Sno-Cone and Potato Patch fries.

7) Grade School Spelling Bee- You would think these would be fun and happy memories, wouldn’t you? Instead, they were intense affairs, with driven 8-year-olds and anxious parents, and (in at least one case) enough trauma and angst over a misspelled word to last a lifetime.

8) A Yes Concert- Yes is a 70’s rock band that is perfectly enjoyable in concert – the first 5 or 6 times you go.

9) Confession – In my Catholic elementary school, they used to march us over to Church periodically to confess our sins. Despite being generally wracked with guilt all the time, I often couldn’t really think of anything I did that was all that wrong – I was a kid after all. I confessed to disobeying my parents and lying far more often than I actually committed those offenses, because I felt like I had to say SOMETHING when I went into the confessional booth. The last time they made us go to confession in eighth grade was the last time I went to confession.

10) Canonsburg Fourth of July Parade – Been there, done that – 14 times. Enough said.

Don't Know Much About History

Don’t know much about history
Don’t know much biology
Don’t know much about a science book
Don’t know much about the French I took.

                             -“What a Wonderful World”, Sam Cooke

I always like watching Jeopardy, even though I could never make it on the actual show. My general lack of coordination coupled with my need to mentally process the clue and THEN formulate the answer (in the form of a question) means there is no way that I could possibly buzz in before two fellow contestants whether or not I knew the answer.

So, when I discovered I could play Jeopardy online I was pretty happy. Online Jeopardy is different. There are no opponents – just you and the Machine. It is also in a multiple choice format. Being provided with four possibilities gives me a fighting chance - I have at least a 25% shot at a correct answer in every category, even if it is a complete guess.

This is important for me because I am stronger in some categories than others. I like to think that this is the case with most of us, with the exception of a handful of brainiacs who just know something about everything. What disturbs me, though, is the particular subjects with which I struggle.

You see, I don’t know anything at all about serious, weighty subjects like science and math. Math was always the bane of my academic existence, despite coming from a family who was, largely, good in the subject. I cannot accurately add and subtract numbers in my checkbook without my calculator, but my sister is an accountant who elected to take Trigonometry in high school because she figured it would be an easy “A.”

Geography also baffles me. For some reason, I have never been able to remember exactly where all the places are or what they’re called in this big world of ours. I am embarrassed to admit that I’m not exactly sure of the placement of some of the Midwest states in our own country, and, honestly, I really have never been able to distinguish Montana from Wyoming.

I actually do know a little bit more about history, which is the story of people. I have always found the subject of people and their motivations very interesting, if often perplexing. However, I am better at modern history than ancient, especially those current events of my lifetime which happened long enough ago that they are now history. I do keep up with current events – e.g. politics, the weather, anything that involves a Steeler - stuff like that.

So what topics DO I know, you’re asking yourself? I am quite proficient in what I like to think of as the “Fine Arts.” I am very knowledgeable about Broadway musicals, theater in general, literature and writers (especially Mark Twain), anything to do with language, the movies and Oscar winners, actors and actresses, and the pop culture of my youth. While I may not be able to tell the difference between a trapezoid and a triangle, I know without hesitation that Cherie Currie appeared as “Annie” in the movie Foxes with Jodie Foster in 1980. Trust me neither of these topics typically comes up at your average dinner party.

Music is a little trickier – I know a LOT about Broadway show tunes and popular music produced between 1930 and 1989, but not so much about classical music and opera. Somewhere in the 1990’s the popular music scene lost me. My first thought when I heard that Josh Duhamel was dating Fergie was that Sarah Ferguson, the Duchess of York, and he made quite the odd couple.

My ultimate top Jeopardy category, though, is television. I am an avid television fan, and you can ask me anything about it, from its beginnings to the present. I even know facts about shows that were on before I was born and about shows that I have never watched. I am a living, breathing example of how watching too much television can absolutely rot your brain, and keep you from learning important topics like science, math and geography. Unless of course you‘re watching Jeopardy.

Freedom on the Fourth

I am as patriotic as the next person. I love being an American, and I thoroughly appreciate the democratic process. In fact, I continue to enthusiastically participate in it no matter how many times my candidates are turned down by fellow patriots (Hillary was ROBBED).


So, here it is – the Fourth of July. The birth of our nation certainly warrants a national holiday. What a better way to tip our hats to our hard-working forefathers than to take a day off work in their honor?

The chairs are lined up and down the parade route in Canonsburg, in preparation for what is truly one of the biggest and finest Fourth of July parades, certainly in Pennsylvania and perhaps in all of the United States. I have no intention of going anywhere near Canonsburg today. See, I’m not crazy about parades, and after attending 14 consecutive Canonsburg Fourth of July parades (each attendance has its own place on the things-I’ve-done-for-you list that I have compiled for my son), I’ve blissfully retired from parade attendance.

My husband and I aren’t much for fireworks, either. I mean, they’re okay, the first few are pretty, but really, how many fireworks in a row do you want to see? They’re certainly not worth leaving the house and staying out after dark. Our mutual distaste for fireworks is one of the things that brought us together. “You don’t like fireworks? Really? Wow! I don’t like fireworks either!” A pause, as you look at each other, the happy realization that you have found your soul mate sinking in. “Let’s get married!”

So, perhaps it comes as no surprise to you that my husband and I had no specific plans for the Fourth this year, aside from watching the Boston Pops on television. When we realized that my father’s senior apartment building was having their meal at noon, as they often do on holidays, we asked him over for dinner. Our first thought was a cookout, a Fourth of July tradition we actually wholeheartedly support. We cook out on our grill all the time. However, my dad doesn’t much like eating outdoors, and since we do grill out all the time, my husband decided to make Shrimp Jambalaya. We all like shrimp.

Actually, when you really think about the meaning and spirit of Independence Day, this will be a perfect holiday celebration. And I know all about the signing of the Declaration of Independence, and not just from studying it in school, way, WAY back when. I have also seen 1776 four times on stage, which included seeing three performances of one production of the show in a five-day period. My husband played Benjamin Franklin in that production. It was my favorite husband playing my favorite founding father. How could I resist? Believe me it is a better history lesson than it is a musical.

Today, by breaking with tradition, we will celebrate the very principles upon which our nation was founded –that is, the freedom to be exactly who we want to be, to express ourselves without fear, to live as we please and to do whatever we damn well please on any given holiday.

Besides, jambalaya is at least as American as, well, hot dogs and hamburgers, originating as it did in the French quarter of New Orleans, most likely by Spanish immigrants trying to recreate their native paella without using saffron (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jambalaya ). And I did buy a festive plastic Fourth of July tablecloth for our Shrimp Jambalaya dinner. I fully support the red, white and blue thing. As anyone who knows me can tell you, red is my favorite color.

The Great Weight Loss Challenge

My husband and I like to think of ourselves as youthful, fun loving folks. That’s all in our minds, of course, and our bodies continue to age no matter what we think about it. Both of us have been told by various doctors that losing weight might help or alleviate some of our troublesome conditions related to aging, so we finally bit the bullet, and, hand in hand, joined Weight Watchers.


Weight Watchers and I go way back, all the way to 1980. At the time I was just a fraction of what I weigh now and ashamed to be "fat" at a weight that I now consider to be VERY thin. However, I desperately wanted to lose 20 pounds so that I could wear a size 9/10 wedding dress to my first wedding.

The program worked, with its mixture of foods from different food groups (which were determined based on the nutritional value of the foods). I faithfully followed the program, weighing in weekly and attending the motivational meetings. I was proud when I met my goal, became a lifetime member and earned a black Weight Watchers pin, which I still have. Over time, I regained the weight and then some, because maintenance was not something Weight Watchers or I had mastered back in the 80’s.

The biggest difference going into the program now is that it isn’t really about weight this time. I am no longer ashamed of my weight and am totally comfortable in my own skin. I know now that people of various shapes and sizes can be healthy and attractive. My husband absolutely thinks I am beautiful just the way I am, and it has nothing to do with my weight. I am, however, very interested in being in good health. For me, eating right and exercising always seems to result in weight loss, so my optimum weight is definitely less than my current weight.

So here I am back in Weight Watchers, after all these years. I have to hand it to them, they have continued to take what they know about nutrition and tweak and revise the program to continually make it better, more effective and workable. The Points Plus program is light years ahead of the program I followed in 1980, totally flexible and actually individualized. I can keep track of my food and progress online, in addition to weighing in in person.

The other big difference this time around is that my husband and I are doing this together. While I had support from people around me in the past, and the meetings were always there if I needed them, it is different - and better - to be doing it with your life partner and housemate. In our case, it is just one more adventure we are exploring together, and we are actually enjoying the process.

It feels a little like we are in our own weight-loss reality show, without the abusive trainers and hosts or the downright dangerous forced exercise routines (no one forced us to run a mile our first day on the program). But it is about surviving challenges, in a way. There’s the Doughnuts and Birthday Cake at the Staff Meeting Challenge (just say no). There’s Eating Out at a Real Restaurant (that doesn’t provide nutritional counts for its food) Challenge – can you pass up the bread and the delicious dipping sauce which you did not account for when planning your meal ahead of time looking at the menu online? The Pizza Challenge - can you stop at just one or two pieces, so that you can eat something other than fruits or vegetables for dinner? You get the idea.

Of course, there’s no prize money, but there is a pay-off in weekly weight loss and long term improved health. And we can all be winners here – no one gets voted off this island.

Can't Tell the Foliage from the Weeds

Some people are born with a way with plants. I had a roommate who could make African violets bloom in the dead of winter. Our apartment was filled with her beautiful plants that she lovingly cared for, each with its own specialized watering and feeding schedule. Another friend had a similar knack, except that he treated all his plants the same – he watered them once a week and used their pots as ashtrays. His plants grew like Audrey II in Little Shop of Horrors, including a small corn plant that grew to be 7 feet tall in just over a year. To my knowledge, none of them turned homicidal.

I, on the other hand, came into this world with a brown thumb. With the sole exception of the peace lily, houseplants wither in my care, no matter what I do. A helpful friend once wondered if I talked to them. Well, no, I didn’t. While I can generally keep up my end of any conversation, I simply don’t know what to say to a plant.

All this has led me to be generally oblivious to plants while maintaining a generic appreciation for them (i.e. I think flowers are pretty). Except for some of the more obvious ones (roses, tulips, sunflowers) I didn’t know one flower from another until a boss of mine put me in charge of a Mother’s Day Plant Sale fundraiser many years ago. I was a like a toddler learning the alphabet looking through those flyers of flowers.

When we moved into our dream house last year, it came with a yard full of unfamiliar and unsuspecting foliage that was suddenly under our care. We were delighted that we had a sour cherry tree in our front yard. My husband gathered sour cherry pie recipes, and had his cherry pitter at the ready. Every so often, he would eagerly check the berries, which, curiously, never seemed to ripen.

One day a passing neighbor remarked on the crab apple tree in our yard. Crab apple? The good folks at Soergel’s Farm Market verified that our sour cherries were actually crab apples. My husband quietly put away the recipes and the pitter, and we moved on, our dreams of homemade fruit pie dashed.

Another revelation upon moving here is that not all plants are desirable. Some of the plants that grow in our yard are weeds, and must be removed lest we invoke the wrath of the homeowners association. So, gamely, I bought a pair of decent gardening gloves, hedge clippers, and little gardening tools and I occasionally set out to weed the yard, probably long after others might have noticed that it needed to be done.

The problem? I don’t always know which of the plants are weeds and which are flowers. Oh, some are obvious – those awful jaggedy ugly things with the 6-inch roots are insidious and evil weeds that must be destroyed. Even I can see that. But others baffle me. My husband always says that anything that we didn’t plant and don’t want is a weed. Well, we didn’t plant any of it, and clearly some people have some strong ideas of makes a weed a weed, whether we treasure the plant in question or not. Some of the weeds have little flowers on them, and what about the clover? I don’t know where they came from, but I like them.

Then there is the issue of trimming the bushes. I thought bushes were supposed to be full. Isn’t that where the word “bushy” comes from? I try to trim them but somehow they just look like smaller versions of their original selves, not like the beautifully shaped and coiffed little shrubs that grace other peoples’ lawns.

Well, all I know is that the clover is staying. There might be a four-leaf clover in there somewhere, and I need all the good luck I can get.

Travels on the Pennsylvania Turnpike

So here we are again, traveling across this great Commonwealth of ours from Western Pennsylvania to New Jersey, a trip we make at least twice a year. Try as you might to find some better cost-free route, the only logical way to get there is on the Pennsylvania Turnpike, with all its glory and potholes.


Right now we are driving through a construction zone, which is to be expected in the summer. The curious thing is that this particular section of the road has been under construction as long as I can remember, with the same lane shifting and uneven roads that it always had.

On one hand, I appreciate the consistency. It is one constant in an ever-changing world, something on which you can rely. On the other hand, I have to wonder if they will ever finish working on it. How long can it possibly take? Shouldn’t 20 or 30 years have been enough time? One of the great mysteries of life, I suppose.

The road itself isn’t the fanciest, but it takes you where you need to go. It’s just a lot of trees, rest stops, and signs, with a few bridges, tunnels and farms thrown in, for good measure. The scenery can be pretty, if you like that sort of thing, especially in autumn, when the leaves turn. Our turnpike trips have become much more joyous since we broke down and got E-Z Pass, allowing “e-z” sailing through toll booths, and eliminating the need to have enough cash for tolls.

Our established routine on these trips goes something like this. My husband drives first, including our stop for fast food breakfast sandwiches and coffee on our way. I take over for the middle of the ride. If it is going to rain, this is usually when it happens (I am an inclement weather magnet). I turn the wheel back over to him for the final leg of the trip.

We are not driven to break speed records (no pun intended). We are perfectly happy to stop whenever there is a need. The rest stops are some of the most pragmatic establishments that you will ever find. They all have a gas station which has gas at the same outrageous prices you can find at home, not-always-clean-but-better-than-an-outhouse restrooms, and fast food. Whether you are at the state-of-the-art Sideling Hill rest stop (which features an entire convenience store), or one of the more modest stops, you can find all the necessities you might need on a road trip there, including maps, sunglasses, umbrellas, aspirin, reading material, and, perhaps most important of all, coffee. Conveniently, they also carry Pennsylvania souvenirs like coffee mugs and t-shirts.

Traveling on the turnpike is the great equalizer among people. No one cares who you are, how much money you make, or what you look like at turnpike rest stops. Folks of all walks of life bond together in a common experience. We all just want to refresh and replenish before resuming our quest to get where we’re going.

Back on the road, my husband and I pass the time with conversation and music, which is pretty much the way we pass the time everywhere else, too. The Hairspray and Big River soundtracks are some of our favorite traveling music, and Cool Yule by Bette Midler, the best Christmas album of all time, is as enjoyable in July as it is December.

To risk embarrassing a certain family member (she knows who she is), I will admit here that we also pass the time by singing, usually a medley of our favorite T.V. theme songs. My personal favorite is the theme from “The Patty Duke Show” (about “cousins, identical cousins”) but I also have a real soft spot for the duet we do to the theme from Green Acres, with me doing the Eddie Albert part, and my husband doing a spot-on Eva Gabor.

On this trip I have also found one more way to pass the time. The turnpike is a mighty fine place to write a blog. I finished this one before it was my turn to take over the driving.