Pgh Lesbian Correspondents

It is a crisp autumish Sunday afternoon this August 31 in the year 2025. Tomorrow is Labor Day. I did have plans for a project that fell through, so I am left to my own devices. Chores, laundry, nap.

In the before-times, three day holiday weekends usually included housework, a project, and – this is key – going out to breakfast on the Monday morning itself. Usually, we’d go to Eat ‘n Park or Waffles Incaffeinated. Have some breakfast, drink some coffee, and then go in any direction – sometimes chores, sometimes errands, and sometimes a fun activity.

But that breakfast ritual, oh how I miss it. It was a touchstone, an hour or so of conversation and familiar foods. The conversation meandered, but it was real. It cemented our bond.

There were so many subtleties that I absolutely took for granted – if one of us was washing their hands while the other one was seated, we knew what they wanted to drink. We knew if lemon or extra cream was warranted. And our shared values were there – we tipped very high because as we sat there, the hard work of the restaurant employees was clear. We were careful about complaints because we both had friends and family whose boorish behavior about a $5.00 meal was embarrassing and pathetic. We thanked people who served us.

That reads like a pretty boring experience. I miss it dearly, especially knowing I’ll never have that level of intimacy and familiarity again.

I’ve had breakfasts out with friends, with my nephews, and on my own. They are fine, but not the same.

Another unique holiday tradition involved celebrating the ‘eves’ with sushi at Royal Myanmar in West View. This came about because as middle-aged women without children and a small house, we were at the low end of the list when planning family holidays. We were rarely consulted on times/menu/location. We both noticed even if others did not. So we slowly slid into the practice of having sushi – guaranteed not to be on any family menu – the night before.

It just happened, starting with ‘real eves’ like New Years and Christmas, then stretching out to Thanksgiving eve, Easter, Fourth of July, and so forth. The owner noticed and enjoyed joshing us when we came in. She thought it was a hilarious, fun tradition. And it was. It was really nice. Our order was typically the same. I always took a photo of the presentation. We struggled with chop sticks.

It was a special tradition, yet another piece of my life that’s irreplaceable.

Then, again, we’d leave for a variety of destinations, but usually home. Sometimes we’d swing by Giant Eagle in a nearby shopping center. On Christmas Eve, we would head home through the streets of Brighton Heights to enjoy the holiday lights. It was intimate and familiar, even grounding.

I’ve been back for sushi. A friend drove around to see the lights. Both were nice, but they are new traditions.

The holidays themselves. I’m resigned to always being the +1. I am fortunate that my friends include me in their traditions, new and old. But there is a gentle pang there, moments where I miss my old life and my extended family.

One thing that I can do now is say “no, thank you.” I don’t want to be part of drama, yelling, chastising, mandatory participation. I like a simple plan that makes everyone comfortable. No experiments except with side dishes.

The big holidays – Thanksgiving, Christmas – were tough. I spent one with my nephews and their family which was very nice. They are a vegetarian family, but always make a turkey breast for me and the other meat eaters. We watch holiday specials. It is probably my favorite holiday.

This Christmas, I stayed home alone. I watched tv, I had a nice plated meal from a friend, I visited the cat colonies, and I had a few presents that I opened in the evening.

That was another was we framed holidays planned for us by others – we carved out time in the AM for blueberry muffins, sometimes watching a parade or other festive event. Then after the gathering, we made time for our family unit – that’s when we exchanged gifts, watched holiday specials, enjoyed a special dessert.

I cherished those times because they were intentional about our household being a family even without kids and before marriage. It mattered that we devoted that time. And it was smart I think to end Christmas Day with gifts so it felt like a gentle transition.

So there’s the emotional regulation that goes with walking through these days. But there’s also a financial one.

As I mentioned in my previous post, Here’s the truth about housing after a divorce – the economic impact of divorce is often hard to measure, but omnipresent in day to day lives.

Do holidays cost money? Are they luxuries? Is it something you should be able to participate in or just be grateful you have canned vegetables in your pantry to eat?

Do poor people deserve to celebrate or have special holidays?

So again my monthly income is about $1500 after Medicare is taken out. I will lose my health insurance through the City of Pittsburgh after the divorce so I’ll need to get better Medicare policies. I’ll dive into that in a future post, but it is going to eat away at the $1500 quite a bit since I need vision and prescription coverage.

Thus my household income to go out for sushi and breakfast or buy muffins from a bakery will be nonexistent. That sort of solves that issue. bit.

Gifts. Most of my friends intentionally don’t ‘do’ gifts with other adults. That makes sense, but it does alter my celebrations – Laura and I put a lot of through and energy into gifts for each other and family members. They were very much a “shop from the list” type whereas I liked going rogue. That didn’t always go over so well, but sometimes I did well, especially with the kids. I would spend months on gifts for Laura – conscious of my budget, of course. I would save up the little $5 gift cards from retailers to be able to buy her gifts like cool tee shirts. I scanned the bargain bins of her favorite retailers. She’d mention she wanted something like a new alarm clock and I’d find the coolest one I could.

The last gift I bought her was a Bird Buddy after she expressed admiration of our friend’s FB posts. I was so excited even thought it was out of my price range. She never used it. It sits in the corner of the living room to this day, box and all. Maybe she should sell it. Shame to let it go to waste.

When we were first dating, I had very little money and spent a lot time in thrift stores. She really like polo/rugby shirts so I spent months looking for like new items in my favorite stores. I ended up with like 20 maybe? So I packed them in a really big box. I was so excited. And she was, too. She wasn’t a thrift store aficionado, but she knew how much effort went into that gift. And she still has a few of those shirts.

This year, I didn’t buy anyone a Christmas gift because I’m conserving cash to pay for my legal expenses. Oh wait, I did buy a subscription to WQED for a friend, but I’m unsure if they use it. It was a donation so that’s okay, but I’ll have to bluntly ask.

I spent many years without much in the way of holiday gifts. When we went to my aunt’s house for Christmas dinner, they would wait to open their own (expensive) gifts until we were there to watch. They’d give my mother and I a bag of perfume giveaways (they worked in the industry.) My dad would get some sort of giveaway watch. They were nice items, but it was a humiliating and mean-spirited way to celebrate. Isn’t rule number one – unless you are 9 years old with a new sled, don’t be a showoff?

What I’m describing here are the rituals and traditions that give special events and holidays meaning. It isn’t the gift or the meal or the activity, it is the time spent connecting with the people you love. That might be spending hours shopping for gifts or making a trip to buy baked goods or basking in the nostalgia of a familiar routine.

I’m unsure I’ll have anyone with whom to spend that special time.

But when you have little money you can’t do those things easily. You can’t buy host gifts or baked goods or a bottle of wine. When you can’t contribute, you start to pull away to avoid the awkward moments. Of course, they still invite you because they love you. But being able to give is very important on holidays. It is about dignity.

I miss our traditions. Yes, I realize new traditions can be created as a new path forward reveals itself.

I suppose the hard holidays of my childhood and youth should have prepared me for this, that the good times woudn’t last or would be undermined. That letting myself anticipate special things would be part of my undoing. That’s just me trying to protect myself from admitting that it hurts. It hurts like that little kid who was treated as an afterthought by people supposed to love her, but treated her like a leftover thought.

I did not buy muffins for Labor Day. I have no plans, no picnics, no invitations. I wish I had planned to go to the parade. Or maybe bought some hotdogs for myself. But soon enough it will be Tuesday and the regular routine will resume . The next holidays are far away so these melancholic thoughts won’t pester me.

One of my best memories was the year I spent Christmas and New Years with my then-boyfriend Keith Jones family in San Antonio. I had been in a car accident just before so I couldn’t manage the drive to Pittsburgh solo, they invited me to spend it with them.

On New Year’s Day, his mama cooked kielbasi, sour kraut, and mashed potatoes and found an approximation of a new year’s pretzel. Just for me, a taste of home. They had no such traditions. But they had kindness and thoughtfulness. And they surprised me! I don’t remember the taste of the meal or how we spent the day, but I do remember deeply the feeling of being cared for and welcomed and included.

I think the key is changing my expectations and enjoying new traditions.