The beauty of rock bottom (not to be confused with Rock Bottom) and other stuff

Not that you would ever think I'd write about a brewery chain...

One of the things my first college roommate and I had in common was the fear that whenever something good happened, something bad would naturally follow. It's like the cliche you hear about "waiting for the other shoe to drop."

That dear friend of mine eventually found a quote that muted her fear:
"If you believe in fate to your harm, believe it at least for your good." -- Ralph Waldo Emerson

My experience was different. I just eventually realized that the bad stuff wasn't such a bad thing. While fear may have been part of my character, the failure to rebound, and rebound quickly, never was. My optimism is often unyielding, and I've always believed in working things out, talking things through and pressing up, basically. Plus, I have an incredible faith in God and strongly belive in prayer. So that's what I've always relied on.

But it's more than that. There's something beautiful about a breakdown. You're given a clean emotional slate. You learn who you can count on. Your strengths and weaknesses are more transparent. And it's always the beginning of the next great chapter in your life.

So don't fear the bottom of something. It's sometimes just the top of something else.

Can we discuss the Three Rivers Arts Festival, please?

It's gets an A+ for the art! But little else...

I'm not impressed with the musical line-up. Truth be told, I haven't been since Aimee Mann played at the Point. (And before that when NIJ played. Remember when NIJ used to play the Festival? Aw...) Even beyond that concert, it was one of the greatest days of my life, making the concert an even fonder memory, I suppose.

Oh, in addition to the Festival having the best displays/booths/vendors/artists this year, the chocolate-covered strawberries, once again, deserve an A+.

Pops and circumstance

Last evening, the class of 2008 graduated from Mt. Lebanon High School. Which meant that on my way to work, the ride was a little slower as parents and families lined Cedar Boulevard with cameras, congratulations and some crying.

The most touching moment that I witnessed as a passerby involved what looked like a father and daughter talking and then embracing. And as they hugged, he just closed his eyes and held on in a way that I think every girl wants her dad to hold onto her.

Beating deadlines

I'm 3/4 the way done with "Push," and it's only mid-June. My deadline was originally October. It's fair to say I'll beat that. The journal that accompanies it can't be done until the bambino arrives, but that's beyond my control. We're negotiating all of that and art at my September meeting, which I'm hoping turns into a little anniversary vacation for Lar and me.

I just can't believe I'm beating this deadline by this margin. It's one thing to meet a deadline. It's another to beat one.

But the work won't end. There will be edits. For sure.

I love being a writer.

Kennywood

So apparently it's mid-June, and the Woodalls (inlaws included) are going to Kennywood next week. I can't believe it's next week already. And I can't believe I get the work perks that I do.

We're so excited to see the kids' reactions to all the rides, though it will be a challenge just keeping Ty from running around all over the place! He's his own version of Speed Racer! You should see him!

Cienna is tall enough to ride a decent amount of the rides outside of Kiddieland as well, so that's exciting.

My favorite part of the whole thing is riding at night when everything is all lit-up. I've always loved that, as I've always loved Kennywood. It brings back so many great memories, and so many great memories are made there as well.

It's nice to go to other parks too--such as Cedar Point and Busch Gardens--but we're lucky to have such a great amusement park in our back yard. (OK, so it's really McKeesport's back yard, but whatever.)

Kool-Aid Nana

I went to my mom's on Tuesday to drop off Ty for his first overnight at Nana's ever. She had four other children on her porch--Cienna and three of her friends. Ty made five. And Nana loved it. She had the Kool-Aid (which is thankfully available sugar-free, and also free of aspartame) and popscicles (which are thankfully available sugar-free, and also free of aspartame) all ready, and a slip 'n slide was turned on in the back yard.

While I may have annoyed her most of my life, she definitely loves being a Nana!

Entourage

So Entourage is become a fall show, and I'm not happy about that. It was so great to have a great show on during the summer when TV usually offers things like..."Celebrity Circus," "So You Think You Can Dance," "I Survived a Japanese Game Show"...things like that.

One of my co-workers claims I should start watching "Weeds." Does anyone else watch that? Do you know if it's something I can just start watching, or do I need background first? Any summer TV suggestions?

Making history

A lot of people made history this week. But we only know some of their stories. And the stories we do know are sometimes subjected to questions of validity.

When, though, do those questions or details ever really matter? The way we make history and the way we remember it are often quite different.

There was a moment, and a relationship that was central to it, that seemed to change the course of my life. It was tenacious. Passionate. Fierce. Good for my writing, bad for my soul. Full of cocktails. Rich with dialogue. And eventually painful. For too long after it had ended, a part of me felt almost haunted by it. The good memories seemed so much better than they were. The bad ones seemed justifiable. And all the minutes in between seemed longer than normal minutes, like 75 seconds reminding me that I was alone.

Being Candy, being someone who believes the martini glass is always half full, I made the most of it. And being that I was in college, that meant I had sex with someone else as fast as I could to get over him. And being that I was a college girl in my early twenties, that did not take long.

One day, the pain of my actions and the pain of his absence simply went away.

When I look back now, I have no idea what my reason was for walking away. Even with my photographic memory. Granted, there were probably a hundred people who had a hundred reasons why I should've walked away even sooner--myself included--but I don't remember what was the pivotal moment in our history that made me walk away, literally, and also avoid all temptation to turn around and see if he was watching me walk away.

But I remember why I didn't turn around--fear that maybe he was watching me walk away with a look on his face that suggested he felt the romance of longing, and fear that maybe he wasn't. Once I made it to my Isuzu Trooper that day, I loudly played "Purple Rain" by Prince during the drive home, over and over until I didn't need to listen to it anymore.

I didn't choose that song because it had anything to do with our relationship, nor did it describe any of it's failings. I just needed to hear a good song--a song with genius and heart, a song that was bigger than me. One of my high school best friends always said, "All a girl really needs in this world, Candy, is good music, good coffee and great friends." I guess it stuck.

Oddly enough, what I'm proud of more than knowing when to walk away is never letting a bad thing come between my relationship with good music. There's not one band or album or song I've forsaken because of tainted love.

"Purple Rain" is still one of my all-time favorite songs, and it makes me think of many things. Mostly though, it's just musically incomparable. It's epic. And it's from one of the best albums of all time, of the same title. I have the history to prove this. My first copy was on vinyl. Then a cassette. Then a CD. Now a microchip. It still sounds best in a car though.

Penguins and bridesmaids

The Pittsburgh Penguins incredible season has mostly been buried today by comparisons of their team to forgotten bridesmaids. But that's not such a bad thing.

As someone who watched every Penguins game this season (and a few seasons prior), I'm extremely proud of our local hockey players. They played hard, and with respect, and there's still a lot of talent on our team. That's why, despite my disappointment last evening, I didn't wake up feeling sad. I'm beyond confident that we'll make it back to the Cup finals, and we'll win next time. And when the Pens go home with the Cup the next time, we'll forget all about the pain of this loss.

Let's be real about something though: It's a lot less of a big deal to be a forgotten bridesmaid than the loser of a championship. The former usually has to do with the natural progression of life as opposed to an unfulfilled dream. For some of these athletes, it's their life's work. I've been both a bride and a bridesmaid. It's nobody's life's work. (If by some rare chance it is, I'm sorry--to you and for you.)

Bridesmaids and weddings have been coming up in conversation a lot lately. One of my friends recently got engaged, and one of our cousins got engaged this past weekend. Once you've had a wedding of your own, people like to pick your brain a little.

But I should point out that Larry and I are bad to go to advice for on this topic. We weren't the kind of couple, or the type of people, to analyze or agonize over things most people won't remember. I think weddings should reflect the couple. If you spend most of your days looking like you walked out of Vogue magazine, then maybe that's what your wedding should be. If you sit around bonfires with beer most of the time, maybe you're destined for an outdoor wedding and a picnic that follows.

Trust me on this, though, if you try to make your wedding something you are not--it will be hell to plan.

A journalism professor in college taught us that when you have the right lead, the rest of the story flows easily, naturally. I think that's true about a lot of things in life.

My wedding dress was the third one I tried on. I picked my flowers in less than 30 minutes. The cake was from Bethel Bakery--a no-brainer. My matron of honor picked the bridesmaids dresses and talked it over with the rest of the girls--they would be wearing the dress, not me. We got married in the small church I grew up in. It didn't overlook the city. It barely overlooked the Mon River. Michelangelo did not paint the ceilings. There was no waiting list. Our dinner was buffet style for the 400 people who attended our reception in a fire hall. Sure, the invitation may have said "banquet hall," but on Tuesday nights, it's full of bingo players.

We saved tons of money that way. We invited our friends and family. We didn't stress over cutting people off the list we grew up with because we couldn't afford to feed them. We fed and watered them all very well.

You could say a lot about my wedding, but you can't say it wasn't fun. And, in the end, that's what people will remember most.

So don't worry about flowers and bridesmaids. Pick both with the knowledge that it's the choice you are making now--whenever now is for you. And as you grow, and your life grows, you might have chosen a lily over a rose, or a Becky over a Bonnie, but it's about what you feel in your heart now that influences you choice.

The only thing about that whole day that even matters are the vows you take with the person you love.

Clintons

Unfortunately for Hillary Rodham Clinton, the vows she took may be what both propelled her into making history as the first woman to receive 18 million votes for the Democratic nomination and yet kept her from being its nominee. I'm willing to bet the same rednecks who've said in interviews, "I don't think this country is ready for a black president yet or nothing" are the same rednecks who voted for her because they actually believed it would be Bill controlling the White House. And I also believe some of the votes she lost were lost because some people are just over it about Bill's conduct on and off the campaign trail.

What woman should all admire, though, is that she never gave up and also showed us a wonderful model of a beautiful relationship between mother and child. Seriously, I'm truly moved by the way Chelsea championed for her mother throughout this process.

I wish the media could've given her the time she deserved to close the campaign with a little more class. The impatience for her to just quit was absurd. Her supporters--especially those she brought into the process for the first time--deserved a proper farewell.

That said, Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert made me laugh so hard during their post-primary coverage on their shows about the whole thing.

Obamas

OK. I've been an Obama supporter all along, so I was happy he won the nomination. And while I was kind of proud he's the first black man on the Democratic ticket, I'll be prouder if he's the first black man in the Oval Office. Press Up, America.

And speaking of the Press Up, were any of my college friends as proud when the Obamas hit the rock before his acceptance speech?

SATC with MB

So, clearly, seeing "Sex and the City" with the bestest was one of the best experiences of my life. First, it was time with the bestest (while Lar got to visit with Spence), and it was my favorite Hollywood foursome.

I'd love to review it for you, but that would totally spoil it. After you see it, though, we should definitely dish about it.

But for those of you who haven't seen it yet, who loved the TV series as much, I will warn you that there's not nearly enough Mario Cantone.

Dr. Gopalani

Yes, I'm still in touch with Dr. Gopalani. Though he's so West Coast now, he still visits Pittsburgh from time to time. Now is one of those times. Which means tennis. And talk of the Vag.

MTV Movie Awards

Larry insisted I watch them. And when Adam Sandler got MTV's equivalent of the Academy's Lifetime Achievement Award, Larry beamed with joy. Beamed.

Overall, the awards were enjoyable. I was extremely happy when Coldplay performed. (And speaking of Coldplay, I wish you could see Cienna imitate their iPod commercial). I was extremely happy when Usher performed. "Love in this Club" has become somewhat of joke between Larry and me. The song amuses us, and I made it a point to learn the dance from the video. Every time I do it or attempt it, he laughs.

Pennsyltucky

One of my friends at work directed me to a Web site today that shows what celebrities would look like if they lived in Pittsburgh. They were either fat, had big hair, were fashion disasters, walked straight out of the 80s or wore t-shirts.

To our critics: Why is Pittsburgh viewed as the redneck capital of PA? Have you never been to Breezewood?

I didn't Get it Get it Get it Get it

Looking back, it seems as though we had all the time in the world during That Summer. And, really, we didn't. But our schedules allowed us to fit in Friends reruns, Golden Girls reruns, Dave and Andy's, many entries into The Quote Book, and copious amounts of alcohol.

I've never had that kind of time since. Yet I managed to enjoy some of those things this weekend, during the busiest month of my life, while also celebrating Larry's birthday with some a little early, cheering on the Pens, working for a charity, taking care of a sick, little guy and catching the season finales of "Extreme Home Makeover" and "Desperate Housewives."

But that half-hour of Golden Girls made me so, so happy--and in the simplest way! It brought back great memories and also the not-so-awesome reminder that I was once voted Dorothy on the "Which Golden Girl Are You?" quiz. Dorothy is awesome. The testosterone-issue rumors about her...not awesome. What I'm not-so proud of, though, is the fact that I actually took that quiz. When I was 20.

I've been accused of far-worse wastes of time. Like the American Idol game yesterday. Because what do you do after the Pens clinch the Eastern Conference? You play the American Idol game. Larry had an adult league game, so he was spared my rendition of Britney Spears' "I'm a Slave 4 U." Even though it wasn't as legendary as Lou's version of Spears' "Lucky," it was awarded one performance star--the lowest rating possible.

Now, the thing you should know about the American Idol game is that you don't have to sing. Like Trivial Pursuit (am I actually comparing it to Trivial Pursuit?), there are many categories, and in the category that gives you the chance to showcase your talents via the echo mic, you can opt out of singing with the Break it Down (dancing for the judges) or Idol Truth (Idol trivia) options. But each time I had the opportunity (and there were many), I chose to Belt It Out. The game picks the songs for you, so to my defense, had I chose, Britney Spears' catalog wouldn't have been in my genre.

I had better luck with "Fame," to which I also embarrassingly busted out some old twirling choreography. Also earning me many more performance stars were: "Proud Mary," "Papa Was a Rolling Stone," "Physical," "Wild Thing" and "Greatest Love of All."

After that fun, I watched season finales. And after watching season finales, I discussed season finales with friends, as though I was 15 years old and my parents just installed my own phone line.

It was a relaxing way to end the weekend and a simple way to begin another busy week. Isn't that how the best summers begin?

What I'm Loving: A top 20

1. That summer glow, that baby glow, that in-love glow

2. Watching Pens games with my favorites. (I'm going to miss you, Ry and Rizzo!)

3. Surprises from my mom.

4. Funny things the kids say. For example, we were recently behind one of the three taxicabs in Pittsburgh, and Cienna said, "Mommy, why is that car wearing a hat? That's silly."

5. Not having writer's block.

6. Plans with the best of the best for SATC and dinner at the end of the month.

7. Mr. C and his incredible cooperation. He's the best person to work with ever.

8. Being part of a Christian ministry that truely accomplishes something.

9. Being soulful and peaceful.

10. Generating ideas.

11. Ty not needing surgery.

12. That Ty is saying a couple more words each day.

13. Soup.

14. Bran flakes and light vanilla soymilk.

15. All the hostas in my back yard that remind me of those at my mom's and grandmother's.

16. Being outside with the fam, blowing bubbles and playing in sandboxes.

17. Prayer.

18. Recapturing my love of photography--sometimes it takes the right camera.

19. Mother's Day cards the kids made with Daddy that make me smile every time I look at them.

20. Pilates.

Why I'm Counting Down: Looking Forward to Learning More

This is part five of a blog series about why I'm counting down to vacation, while I catch you up on all that has left an impression on me so far this spring.

I've said before how, if we pay really close attention, we can learn as much from our children as we teach them. This past weekend was no exception.

As I watched Ty, I realized that learning to walk is a lot like walking away--one day it just clicks. Nobody can make you do it. Nobody can give you the center you need for balance; you simply must find it on your own. Nobody should let you hold their hand for too long, or you'll learn to rely on that for stability instead of your own two feet.

Between the kids and good friends, many things clicked for me this weekend. And I always love weekends like that because it proves how many things I still have to learn, which keeps my life from stagnating. It's sometimes as simple as sitting in a room among loving people, realizing how good you feel, accepting that you can no longer surround yourself with people or influences who inspire you to feel otherwise. It's in the words of a trusted student ministry leader who reminds you that what most people call "luck," you call "blessings." It's in the hands of a great-grandmother that have hugged you so many times, making you certain that there's no bigger blessing than loving a family. It's in the eyes of first-time parents who simply cannot stop staring at their newborn, smiling in total awe that their child's life began with their love.

One of Larry's friends became a father this weekend, and as soon as I saw the little photo on his cell phone, I started crying. I know how precious and irreplacable those first hours are, that incomparable joy that fills your entire being and the world around you, and I know that unbreakable bond and biological pull that changes your life forever. And I thanked God that I've been able to know all those things. And I thanked God that our friends were blessed to now know all those things.

It seemed to me that we should always strive toward such beauty and goodness, and the more you feel that kind of beauty and goodness in the world, the more difficult it becomes to be where it is absent.

And I guess when you feel that complete disconnect is when you finally walk away.

Where I want to walk most right now, though, is with my babies, and my love, through the sand, along the beach, just being thankful that I get to share it with each of them.

Why I'm Counting Down: Because I need more days like this

This is part four of a blog series about why I'm counting down to vacation, while I catch you up on all that has left an impression on me so far this spring.

Days when I get to see my baby girl graduate from her first preschool class.
Today wasn't her last day of school--that's in two weeks--but Cienna's class held a program for parents to showcase some of what they've learned throughout the school year. They sang songs and performed finger plays, and shared cookies afterward.

All the while, I was thinking of the first time I saw her little hands. And the first time she held her own toy. And the first time she reached out for me. And the first time we walked, holding hands.

She did everything she was supposed to during the songs, and she also kicked her feet often and squeezed her dress--something my mom said I always did during school events as a child.

Cienna is energy personified. I'm so proud of how far she's come and overwhelmingly pleased with all she's learned this year, a testament to the wonderful teachers I adore. She can read a little, spell a little, write several words and names--including Lee and Twist, whom she believes are her cousins*, sing several songs, hold down a conversation better than some adults I know, understands traffic rules, respects community helpers and knows the jobs they perform, and, most importantly, she's developed a love for school!

It was also nice to have my parents there with us (of course they came!), and they rewarded her afterward with a trip to Chuck E. Cheese.

To no surprise, I've had tears in my eyes all day about it. But I won't really cry until the very last day, when she says good bye to her amazing teachers and new friends.

Fortunately, we get to see some of them in church on Sundays throughout the summer, until next summer when she has a new class, new teachers and new friends.

It's so true, though, what they say about how fast the years with your children go. You really do have to savor them.

[*Larry's friends, Lee and Twist, watched a hockey game at our house recently, and Cienna was quickly convinced they were her cousins. She demanded to know the spelling of their names and created many pictures of fish with "TWIST" and "LEE" written below her aquatic masterpieces. Even though it's been a couple weeks, she continues to draw pictures for them, as is the case with most of our guests, so they have art waiting when they return.]

Days when Tina Turner and Cher sing "Proud Mary" on Oprah.
OK, so, yeah, I'm including Cher and Tina, and Proud Mary, among the perfect day of Cienna's preschool graduation. I love Tina Turner in a severe way, and sometimes I love her story more than her music. Still, when you want a woman who can rock you, you pretty much want Tina Turner.

My favorite three are Tina, Patsy Cline and Madonna. (Joe: It's not because of the movies "What's Love Got to do With It?" "Sweet Dreams" or "Desperately Seeking Susan" though I have watched them all more than I care to admit.) Tina is a fighter, though she found her greatest success through inner peace. No other woman can reinvent herself as well as Madonna. And Patsy Cline's voice is simply unmatched. (This is not to suggest that these three of the best female voice of all time. That title clearly belongs to Aretha Franklin.)

Thursdays that find you dancing along, prouder than Mary, singing in your living room, don't happen nearly enough. You have to savor them.

Days when the work cafe has the best wedding soup ever.
It couldn't have come at a better time either. Despite the fact that it's a brisk 55 degrees outside, the air conditioning is still on in the office. I was happy the soup could warm me up!

Days when I come up with the best Mother's Day craft idea and realize it will only cost a small amount.
But it's a surprise, so that's all I can say.

Days when a guy calls to request more Chipper Jones coverage and then tells me this joke:

Q: What's the difference between an American blow-up doll and a Muslim blow-up doll?

A: The Muslim doll blows itself up.

It literally happened just like that. One second he's yelling about Chipper Jones, the next he's telling me a joke. It was the most perfectly-bipolar conversation ever.

Days when I land an incredible interview and learn something amazing.
But I can't share it yet, so that's all I can say.

Days when I realize it's only two weeks until Indiana Jones.
And I'm OK with being that kind of dork.

Days when it is the eve of Pens-Flyers and I read this story:
http://www.philly.com/philly/news/20080507_Plot_by_Pittsburgh_fans_against_Rocky_statue_.html

Why I'm Counting Down: Over.It.

This is part three of a blog series about why I'm counting down to vacation, while I catch you up on all that has left an impression on me so far this spring.

OK, so, arguably there are many things that fall into the Over.It. category right now--like people who think they're being confident when they're just being obnoxious--but an old friend helped me realize that what I'm most Over. is our country's current administration.

It's been no secret the deep unrest I've felt about the Bush administration's policies for some time now. At this point, though, I'm just restless and know I'm not alone. Many people in this country have senioritis when it comes to gun-slinging leaders from the South running our country (into the ground).

As my grandmother would say, "this is what it boils down to:" 1. Men and women have lost lives fighting in a war that has accomplished nothing for America. Maybe it has accomplished a little for Iraq, but it has certainly given our strongest enemy--Al Queda--more time and room to grow and work against us. 2. We still haven't found Bin Laden. Are we even really looking for him at this point? Do we have enough military resources to be looking for him at this point? 3. Gas is so high--and is only going to get higher as long as the demand is there, regardless of what any politician says--that people struggle to afford getting to work! 4. We are running out of food, and people are rioting overseas because they have nothing to eat. 5. There are still a lot of people who just don't care about any of this, who seem totally unfazed by it, and I feel very disconnected from them even though I may still love them.

I was reminded recently, a few times actually, how different 21 is from 27. More importantly, I've learned how different my own 21 was from my 27. I'll be 28 in November, and I'm probably one of the very few women among my peers who simply cannot wait for 30. I've always had high hopes for my 30s. And I feel like I've done what I was supposed to do in my 20s, which is to say I've done a lot in my 20s that I never expected to do at all.

"Your twenties are all about finding out who you're not." --Jim Cromie

Even though photos of family and recent photos of friends dominate my house, I still have a photo from my 20th birthday secured on a memo board in my kitchen. I see it every day. And I like having it there because someone once told me, "Don't keep the photos where you look your best. Keep the ones where you look happiest." It was hard not to have a genuine smile that day. I was surrounded by best friends, during a Saturday afternoon in college, holding a gag gift someone had bought at the dollar store for me. The aforementioned gift was a set of ceramic pigs, in honor of a well-known college dean.

I was once sent to interview that dean, whom my best friend and then-editor called a piglover. Coming from her, I assumed it was a term of endearment. But when I got to his office, with a notepad and tape recorder in tow, I immediately learned that he was, in fact, a lover of the swine. There was no place to look in his office without seeing a pig. There were pig statues, photos of pigs, pig art, pigs riding Harleys. I couldn't handle it. I was trying not to laugh. So I looked at the floor--which, thankfully, did not boast a carpet with pig prints. BUT there was a ceramic pig "crawling" from underneath the dean's desk. I started laughing in the middle of the interview. And you could hear that on the recorded interview.

Those days were incredibly easily. And I lived them fully and incredibly well.

But before I celebrated my 21st birthday, terrorism took down the World Trade Center, part of the pentagon, thousands of families and all of my idealism.

I was in Pittsburgh when it happened, watching from a 6th-floor classroom as Downtown workers evacuated our tallest buildings--a result of rumors about the flight that ultimately crashed in Shanksville was designated for the U.S. Steel Tower. I've never seen the streets so full and had no idea that so many people were even in the Golden Triangle on any given weekday.

My journalist's instinct immediately kicked in, and I was fortunate to work with the best fellow student journalists and friends all week. I did a story about how students were affected, interviewing young people from the east and west coasts alike.

A year later, I wrote a column about how it changed America and my entire life. Maybe I'll post those tomorrow, so you can read for yourselves (even though it's embarrassing to share what you wrote 7 years ago sometimes). They were both finalists for awards, with one actually winning. But that's not what I hold onto or feel proud about. I feel fortunate that I got to work with my best friends during a moment that forever changed our history. I feel fortunate that I was part of it in such a way that my children will have my voice to pass onto their posterity.

But one of the parts of the story I never told in writing was one of the most memorable: The guy in my class whom I sat next to. We'll call him J.I. He was a transfer from St. Louis, and we were sort of friends. He read all of my stories, and I went to his Pittsburgh lacrosse games. We called each other sometimes. We emailed each other sometimes. We fell out of touch. But the reason I'll never forget him is because we sat next to each other, watching as the second plane crashed into the World Trade Center.

This afternoon, we crashed into each other. Literally. I spilled my decaf coffee on him, but our attention was on catching up.

The first thing we talked about was politics. We've both been supporting the same candidate and working for him in different cities. I told him of my unrest. He told me of his.

"Honestly, I think maybe the subconcious reason people are so enthusiastic about this election cycle is that we're finally putting Bush behind us. And for many people in this country, that also means finally being able to put 9/11 behind us," he said.

We both recalled that Tuesday morning. We remembered the perfect weather. We remembered turning in our class assignments. We remembered that incredible September sunlight. We remembered sitting next to each other.

"Remember all the rumors that started within minutes about the planes being hijacked at the Pittsburgh Airport? The Pittsburgh Airport isn't even a major hub now, is it?" he said.

No. It's really not.

I told him about all of the things that have changed in Pittsburgh since 2001. I told him about all that's changed in my own life since 2001.

"It really doesn't surprise me that you have two kids and a husband already. You were always way ahead with everything and always kind of lived fast and passionately," he said.

"Yeah, that might be the nicest way anyone has ever described it," I said.

True to form, he asked many questions, some of which I didn't really want to answer, but did.

"OK, so tell the truth here, when everyone talks about how babies change everything, what really changes?" he said.

"What needs to change, changes. And what doesn't need to change, only changes if you let it," I said.

Some of the changes are incredible. You rediscover the world through the eyes of your child. You get the honor of watching a tiny person, a person you love most, take their first steps. You bring a child, your child, a life, into this world and get to fill it will love and knowledge. You get to watch your husband become a father--which will only deepen your love. Your whole life takes new meaning, and you truly think of someone else before your own person.

Some of the changes require sacrifice. The biggest complaint I hear from new parents is the lack of sleep. It truly is something you have to grow into, but those first days are rough. I was ready for it by the time Ty came into our lives, but it was the first time Larry was around a newborn. But the amazing thing about Larry is--even though I was breastfeeding Ty, and there was nothing he could really do to help--he got up with me at 2 a.m. and stayed awake until Ty went back to sleep. It was his way of reminding me I wasn't alone. For me, it was just one of the many moments where I knew we married the right people.

Sometimes, friendships change. Not the kind like Mary Beth and I share, which is the AWESOME kind. But the friendships that exist out of status or circumstances, those seem to naturally fade away. Occasionally, the coming and going of such a friend is surprising. Other times, it's not. And that doesn't make anyone a bad person. I've come to believe it's more a matter of relatability. After all, friendships truly develop based on like interests. And parenting is such a huge life change that friends who are not only NOT going through that, but also feel far away from even wanting that, can feel like they just don't have much in common anymore. Also, some people just aren't good communicators and thus fall out of touch. All you can really do in situations like that is leave the door open for when you have like interests again.

For the sake of clarity, Mary Beth and I have very different backgrounds, we approach many things differently, but I think we're frighteningly similar on two things: unconditional love and the value of communication. When we really need each other, there's no question. We're there. Plus, maybe I'm biased, but I have so much admiration for her. She's the best person I know, and I was once quoted as saying to her, "When the whole world goes up in flames, you will be sitting on a cloud with Jesus."

Another change is the concern for our economy and political climate. These things come to the forefront when you're a parent. You care about the educational opportunities for your children, the cost of that education and how much of that education is controlled by the government. You care about how much gas costs, and what it will cost you to drive them to school, practice, the doctor's office, the store. You care about how much gas will cost when they start buying it. You care about what kind of energy we will rely on when they are your age. You care about the future of this planet.

And even if you're not a parent now, but want to be someday, or have younger family members you deeply love, you're probably starting to care about these things too.

I had both of my children during the Bush administration--perhaps the two best things to come out of the last seven years.

One day I will talk to them about all that I remember of it--the history-making election between Gore and Bush in 2000, the terrorism of 2001, the unforgettable SNL episode hosted by Derek Jeter, the beginning of a war, the narrow election between Kerry and Bush in 2004, rising gas prices, the worst economy of my lifetime--one that has been compared to what preceded The Great Depression, and how I worked on a campaign for the first time during the 2008 election--in which the democratic party nominated a black man or white woman for the first time.

Most of all, though, what I want to be able to say is, "They were tough times, but our country pulled through, we pulled through. Just look how strong we are today."

And I hope Cienna and Ty know, and all of our children know, the kind of perfect beauty and innocence and hope of a sunny, September morning that is without pain, tragedy, stress or war.