Today I will live off the fat of the land.
Not as Thoreau would of course; no, not with dignity and spiritualism. Mine task is set before me by my own sloth and squander. I have spent all my money on a tattoo and won't be paid until tomorrow. Also, I have not transformed any of the healthful, organic meat or produce in my refrigerator into nourishment. Instead, the life I choose today is that of a rodent; eating things left out by people. Candy from the receptionist's desk is how I break my fast. Lunch will surely be salty and saturated with fats.
I should be more disturbed.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Derby Weekend: Installment Two - Friday
Friday 10:00 Walking
It is bitterly cold. We are wearing hoodies cinched up around our faces like infants and we don’t care what it looks like. We have walked a few miles and only managed to get lost once. But the detour did put us on the wrong side of a river requiring us to cross back over an alternative bridge to get back on track. Kelly and I pass a large “break in case of emergency” glass box that contains a woefully small, sun-bleached, cracked-with-age life preserver; the type that might be found hanging on a chain link fence by a Motor Inn pool.
Immediately, I feel compelled to jump in the river. I inform Kelly of my temptation and demand of her that she commit to memory the location of the glass case with the emergency float. She feels there is not enough lead rope on the preserver to haul it back to her for a second pass in the event of a missed throw. I try to impress on her the importance of accuracy and tell her it’s probably a one shot deal and she shouldn’t even be thinking of a second throw. In my heart I know I’m a goner. Between her lack of skill and my disinterest in treading water for an extended period in wet jeans, I really don’t think there is much chance I will survive.
Note to self: Must audition new traveling companion, challenges to include: eye-hand coordination, endurance events and quick wit scenarios.
Friday – NOON – Chicago Cultural Center (Free)
Good art exhibits, fantastic architecture. The most beautiful Tiffany stained glass dome. Ever. In the world. Great gift-shop. We tried on every hat in the gift shop and should have bought one, or more. Instead we each bought 2 coins ($5 apiece) for the Art-o-Mat machine. Which is an old cigarette machine that has been converted to dispense little packages of artwork. I got a print of a crane flying across some handmade paper and a merit badge that says “Bought Art” – which was delightfully self-fulfilling. Kelly got a black and white photo of some asparagus and an abstract painting that features the colors lime, tangerine and fuchsia. We are pleased.
Friday 2:00 – Portillo’s ($2.75 + $2 for fries)
Eating the best damn Chicago style hot-dog. Ever. In the world. If anyone ever asks you, “Just one Jumbo dog with everything?” – For the love of God, say “No, actually, make that 2”. Lesson learned.
Friday 4:00 – Nordstrom’s Rack
Scored two pair of hot pink tights that were 75% off clearance, aka $1.35 each. I am a genius.
Friday 6:30 – Museum of Contemporary Art, Bollywood First Friday ($13 tickets in advance by phone)
The museum is packed with pretty people, with freaky people, with many people. All ages. All types. We immediately buy drink tickets. The atmosphere is definitely more “Bollywood” than ethnic. A woman in a Sari applies sparkly bindi jewels to our third eyes – mine is turquoise, Kelly’s is pink. Knowing that there would be henna tats to be had – it is a top priority. We find the line. We are also told that it is free, which leaves me completely gobsmacked because mentally I had already upped my “budget” limit from $30 to $50 for something really big/ornate. While I had wanted something on my chest the artist recommended against it because they don’t tend to take well in that area. So I went with Plan B which was a branch of cherry blossoms on my right forearm. Kelly wanted something free-style and ended up with a blossom on the back of her left hand that had scrollwork climbing up her index finger and down across her wrist. Ornamented, we grab a second serving of beer and set out to explore. On the second floor we do absinth shots and then press our way through the huge crowd in the main hall enjoying a DJ’s pop/dance offerings. We emerge near the Museum gift shop – our target. Kelly has smeared a bit of her henna paste near her wrist in the struggle. I have been hyper-vigilant in protecting mine and emerge from the swarm with my blossoms intact. We begin to shop, which is even easier than usual as we are tipsy. Some of us more than others…. We consider a 12 month calendar of penises (penii?) - I was particularly interested in the January penis as I felt it was somehow cosmically intended for me by my Aquarius birth status. It would have made an excellent gift. Kelly found an awesome comic strip book about Little Angry Girls in Love. I selected a balsa wood puzzle of a carp jumping out of a wave – very Japanese – Penny loves to put together balsa wood puzzle sculptures and then paint them, so part of her Christmas is in the bag. I was also very enamored with postcards that feature animals to cut out and assemble. They had completed samples of each and it was very, very hard to make a selection of a few to give as gifts.
After shopping we took the elevator to the upper floor and finally began to look at some art. To be honest, the collection isn’t strong. I really can’t even remember anything mentioning. We returned to the main floor and found the appetizers – not very authentic Indian, but good enough to hold us over for a bit.
Friday 9:00 – Giordano’s (near the hostel)
We order too much food, even though we decided to do salads and an app sampler rather than make this our “deep dish” experience. It really wasn’t great.
Friday 10:30 – The Parthenon Hostel
We climb all those stairs up to our room and pant for a while on our respective beds. Once recovered we use the wireless to check Derby scores and I grade papers accordingly. There are a surprising number of people who got the first round perfect. I hate them a little. We are trying to stay awake till midnight so that we will have had a good number of hours under our belt on the henna tattoos before we clean up for bed. When I finally remove the henna from my arm I am completely dismayed. It looks as if a small child has scribbled on me with a weak orange marker. Kelly’s in contrast, looks pretty good. After all the care I took in protecting my arm from any harm…..after Kelly clearly was not a good guardian of the henna…. I may be cursed.
It is bitterly cold. We are wearing hoodies cinched up around our faces like infants and we don’t care what it looks like. We have walked a few miles and only managed to get lost once. But the detour did put us on the wrong side of a river requiring us to cross back over an alternative bridge to get back on track. Kelly and I pass a large “break in case of emergency” glass box that contains a woefully small, sun-bleached, cracked-with-age life preserver; the type that might be found hanging on a chain link fence by a Motor Inn pool.
Immediately, I feel compelled to jump in the river. I inform Kelly of my temptation and demand of her that she commit to memory the location of the glass case with the emergency float. She feels there is not enough lead rope on the preserver to haul it back to her for a second pass in the event of a missed throw. I try to impress on her the importance of accuracy and tell her it’s probably a one shot deal and she shouldn’t even be thinking of a second throw. In my heart I know I’m a goner. Between her lack of skill and my disinterest in treading water for an extended period in wet jeans, I really don’t think there is much chance I will survive.
Note to self: Must audition new traveling companion, challenges to include: eye-hand coordination, endurance events and quick wit scenarios.
Friday – NOON – Chicago Cultural Center (Free)
Good art exhibits, fantastic architecture. The most beautiful Tiffany stained glass dome. Ever. In the world. Great gift-shop. We tried on every hat in the gift shop and should have bought one, or more. Instead we each bought 2 coins ($5 apiece) for the Art-o-Mat machine. Which is an old cigarette machine that has been converted to dispense little packages of artwork. I got a print of a crane flying across some handmade paper and a merit badge that says “Bought Art” – which was delightfully self-fulfilling. Kelly got a black and white photo of some asparagus and an abstract painting that features the colors lime, tangerine and fuchsia. We are pleased.
Friday 2:00 – Portillo’s ($2.75 + $2 for fries)
Eating the best damn Chicago style hot-dog. Ever. In the world. If anyone ever asks you, “Just one Jumbo dog with everything?” – For the love of God, say “No, actually, make that 2”. Lesson learned.
Friday 4:00 – Nordstrom’s Rack
Scored two pair of hot pink tights that were 75% off clearance, aka $1.35 each. I am a genius.
Friday 6:30 – Museum of Contemporary Art, Bollywood First Friday ($13 tickets in advance by phone)
The museum is packed with pretty people, with freaky people, with many people. All ages. All types. We immediately buy drink tickets. The atmosphere is definitely more “Bollywood” than ethnic. A woman in a Sari applies sparkly bindi jewels to our third eyes – mine is turquoise, Kelly’s is pink. Knowing that there would be henna tats to be had – it is a top priority. We find the line. We are also told that it is free, which leaves me completely gobsmacked because mentally I had already upped my “budget” limit from $30 to $50 for something really big/ornate. While I had wanted something on my chest the artist recommended against it because they don’t tend to take well in that area. So I went with Plan B which was a branch of cherry blossoms on my right forearm. Kelly wanted something free-style and ended up with a blossom on the back of her left hand that had scrollwork climbing up her index finger and down across her wrist. Ornamented, we grab a second serving of beer and set out to explore. On the second floor we do absinth shots and then press our way through the huge crowd in the main hall enjoying a DJ’s pop/dance offerings. We emerge near the Museum gift shop – our target. Kelly has smeared a bit of her henna paste near her wrist in the struggle. I have been hyper-vigilant in protecting mine and emerge from the swarm with my blossoms intact. We begin to shop, which is even easier than usual as we are tipsy. Some of us more than others…. We consider a 12 month calendar of penises (penii?) - I was particularly interested in the January penis as I felt it was somehow cosmically intended for me by my Aquarius birth status. It would have made an excellent gift. Kelly found an awesome comic strip book about Little Angry Girls in Love. I selected a balsa wood puzzle of a carp jumping out of a wave – very Japanese – Penny loves to put together balsa wood puzzle sculptures and then paint them, so part of her Christmas is in the bag. I was also very enamored with postcards that feature animals to cut out and assemble. They had completed samples of each and it was very, very hard to make a selection of a few to give as gifts.
After shopping we took the elevator to the upper floor and finally began to look at some art. To be honest, the collection isn’t strong. I really can’t even remember anything mentioning. We returned to the main floor and found the appetizers – not very authentic Indian, but good enough to hold us over for a bit.
Friday 9:00 – Giordano’s (near the hostel)
We order too much food, even though we decided to do salads and an app sampler rather than make this our “deep dish” experience. It really wasn’t great.
Friday 10:30 – The Parthenon Hostel
We climb all those stairs up to our room and pant for a while on our respective beds. Once recovered we use the wireless to check Derby scores and I grade papers accordingly. There are a surprising number of people who got the first round perfect. I hate them a little. We are trying to stay awake till midnight so that we will have had a good number of hours under our belt on the henna tattoos before we clean up for bed. When I finally remove the henna from my arm I am completely dismayed. It looks as if a small child has scribbled on me with a weak orange marker. Kelly’s in contrast, looks pretty good. After all the care I took in protecting my arm from any harm…..after Kelly clearly was not a good guardian of the henna…. I may be cursed.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Derby Weekend: Installment One, Thursday
Thurs – Boarding Southwest Airlines - 2:00
Rather than receiving a bump to the next flight to Chicago in exchange for $175 credit with SW airlines, Kelly and I found ourselves on a fully booked flight and far enough up in the boarding pass order to get our seat preferences in the same row (mine being window, hers aisle), but we were about 10 rows from the back of the plane.
We hadn’t yet buckled our belts for safety before we were startled by a middle-aged, black woman shouting “They’re saving seats! They’re saving seats!” while pointing to an average looking middle class white couple sitting two row ahead of us and across the aisle. I could tell by the her tone this was supposed to be communicating some urgent issue, but I honestly couldn’t determine what the issue was. Were the “seats” in some sort of danger? Why did they need “saving”?
A stewardess responded to the summons and in a hushed voice explained to the couple that seating was meant to be first come, first serve based on boarding pass order. The wife said she understood this but had been hoping to have her “dear” friend sit with her and didn’t understand why the woman couldn’t choose one of the other seats still available. The husband commented to the woman “Do you really want to sit by us the whole way to Chicago now?” Taking this as a personal challenge, the woman situated herself in the prized aisle seat and declared she wouldn’t have any problem sitting by them, if they did, they could move, but she had a right to sit wherever she wanted.
The trio continued to bicker vigorously. Words like “evil” were thrown around. The woman called out “I feel threatened!” as if to hearken nearby authorities. The surrounding passengers were equally appalled and delighted. An older woman in the row behind, shushed them collectively and remarked they were behaving worse than children.
The wife escalated her reaction and made a dramatic escape to a seat across the aisle and one row back (the row in front of Kelly and I). She loudly proclaimed that she wouldn’t and couldn’t remain seating by such a terrible person; not for anything in the world could she.
The woman was “just fine” with this.
That left the woman and the husband with a bitter empty space between them. The wife, not yet satisfied with her own departure demanded of the husband that he remove himself as well.
Taking his cue, with a clearly exhilarate look on his face, he charged for the aisle, heedless of his limbs and muttering sarcastically “oh, exsccuuuse me”. Then he catapulted himself into the vacant seat between Kelly and myself.
As the plane was still boarding, the newly vacated seats left behind by the couple were soon filled with unsuspecting flyers. The husband soon realized that in his haste he had abandoned his laptop and snacks and had to rely on the courtesy of the new occupants to retrieve them.
Rather than receiving a bump to the next flight to Chicago in exchange for $175 credit with SW airlines, Kelly and I found ourselves on a fully booked flight and far enough up in the boarding pass order to get our seat preferences in the same row (mine being window, hers aisle), but we were about 10 rows from the back of the plane.
We hadn’t yet buckled our belts for safety before we were startled by a middle-aged, black woman shouting “They’re saving seats! They’re saving seats!” while pointing to an average looking middle class white couple sitting two row ahead of us and across the aisle. I could tell by the her tone this was supposed to be communicating some urgent issue, but I honestly couldn’t determine what the issue was. Were the “seats” in some sort of danger? Why did they need “saving”?
A stewardess responded to the summons and in a hushed voice explained to the couple that seating was meant to be first come, first serve based on boarding pass order. The wife said she understood this but had been hoping to have her “dear” friend sit with her and didn’t understand why the woman couldn’t choose one of the other seats still available. The husband commented to the woman “Do you really want to sit by us the whole way to Chicago now?” Taking this as a personal challenge, the woman situated herself in the prized aisle seat and declared she wouldn’t have any problem sitting by them, if they did, they could move, but she had a right to sit wherever she wanted.
The trio continued to bicker vigorously. Words like “evil” were thrown around. The woman called out “I feel threatened!” as if to hearken nearby authorities. The surrounding passengers were equally appalled and delighted. An older woman in the row behind, shushed them collectively and remarked they were behaving worse than children.
The wife escalated her reaction and made a dramatic escape to a seat across the aisle and one row back (the row in front of Kelly and I). She loudly proclaimed that she wouldn’t and couldn’t remain seating by such a terrible person; not for anything in the world could she.
The woman was “just fine” with this.
That left the woman and the husband with a bitter empty space between them. The wife, not yet satisfied with her own departure demanded of the husband that he remove himself as well.
Taking his cue, with a clearly exhilarate look on his face, he charged for the aisle, heedless of his limbs and muttering sarcastically “oh, exsccuuuse me”. Then he catapulted himself into the vacant seat between Kelly and myself.
As the plane was still boarding, the newly vacated seats left behind by the couple were soon filled with unsuspecting flyers. The husband soon realized that in his haste he had abandoned his laptop and snacks and had to rely on the courtesy of the new occupants to retrieve them.
The now slightly separated the trio continued to bicker loudly. The argument had become about which of the three of them were worse excuses for human beings. The woman was “outraged that in this day and age people expected her to give up her rightful seat and move to the back of the plane.” The husband loudly retorted, “Oh OK Rosa!” The wife and the woman challenged each other to “keep it up” - each vowing that they could outlast the other. The husband encouraged the wife to “just ignore her”, but then immediately reversed his sentiment by saying they should put her on You Tube, to which the woman yelled in reply, “You TUBE yourself!”
By this time the crew had finally come up with a plan and a stewardess told the woman that there would be someone coming to talk to her. Everyone quieted with anticipation. Who would it be? What would they say? We were all over-stimulated. The husband claimed triumph; “OK, don’t say anything more, then it will be her that gets in trouble and not all of us.” Both the wife and the woman were quiet as this sounded like a logical truth.
After far too much time a male steward approached the woman and said “would you mind coming to the front with me?” He had made an attempt to be discreet, but we could see by his face he knew it was futile.
The woman gathered up herself and her belongings with as much dignity as she could muster. This effect was lost on the crowd as a majority of the back ten rows broke into applause. Personally, I was mortified by their judgment and display and embarrassed to be sitting amongst them; right by the peach of a husband no less. It was a thrilling show, no doubt. But the behavior of the three and the observant audience makes me think a bit less of humanity as a whole. Kelly and I exchanged looks over the back of the offensive husband. I think he was aware of our lack sympathy, but he’d clearly spent himself in the effort and was not about to enter into discussion with us.
Thurs 4:00 – Parthenon Hostel, Greektown Chicago ($140 each for all four nights)
Kelly and I check into our room at the hostel. It’s a 4th floor walkup, aka drag your bags up. There are mysterious staircases along the way that shoot off in all directions from the main stairwell and I excitedly explore one of these, bags in tow, only to find dead ends and am forced to retreat to the main landing where Kelly is waiting with “that” look.
Upon entering our narrow room we find two twin beds side by side with about 4 inches of clearance between them: perfect for a couple of girls who want to hold hands and gaze into each other’s eyes all night long – not so much for us. Also the proximity would require us to crawl in toe up each night to get into bed and to exit by the reverse strategy.
There is a small side table a dresser and a wardrobe with exactly 2 hangers in it. The room measures about 7 x 14. We agree that the high ceilings really give the space a grand feeling.
Immediately we reorganize every stick of furniture in the room and create some personal space zones. We begin a shopping list. Hangers, certainly. A beside lamp would be nice. We briefly consider window treatment options and a throw rug to warm the place up a bit and make the dozens of gentlemen callers we will undoubtedly have feel more “at home.”
As mature responsible adults, we check the rules sheet we were provided upon check-in. There is a $4 fee for missing towels and a $10 charge for stolen sheets. But nowhere does it say that there will be a penalty for making improvements. A new coat of paint would do wonders. I’m thinking something in the “bluebird” family, but Kelly’s feeling something green.
By this time the crew had finally come up with a plan and a stewardess told the woman that there would be someone coming to talk to her. Everyone quieted with anticipation. Who would it be? What would they say? We were all over-stimulated. The husband claimed triumph; “OK, don’t say anything more, then it will be her that gets in trouble and not all of us.” Both the wife and the woman were quiet as this sounded like a logical truth.
After far too much time a male steward approached the woman and said “would you mind coming to the front with me?” He had made an attempt to be discreet, but we could see by his face he knew it was futile.
The woman gathered up herself and her belongings with as much dignity as she could muster. This effect was lost on the crowd as a majority of the back ten rows broke into applause. Personally, I was mortified by their judgment and display and embarrassed to be sitting amongst them; right by the peach of a husband no less. It was a thrilling show, no doubt. But the behavior of the three and the observant audience makes me think a bit less of humanity as a whole. Kelly and I exchanged looks over the back of the offensive husband. I think he was aware of our lack sympathy, but he’d clearly spent himself in the effort and was not about to enter into discussion with us.
Thurs 4:00 – Parthenon Hostel, Greektown Chicago ($140 each for all four nights)
Kelly and I check into our room at the hostel. It’s a 4th floor walkup, aka drag your bags up. There are mysterious staircases along the way that shoot off in all directions from the main stairwell and I excitedly explore one of these, bags in tow, only to find dead ends and am forced to retreat to the main landing where Kelly is waiting with “that” look.
Upon entering our narrow room we find two twin beds side by side with about 4 inches of clearance between them: perfect for a couple of girls who want to hold hands and gaze into each other’s eyes all night long – not so much for us. Also the proximity would require us to crawl in toe up each night to get into bed and to exit by the reverse strategy.
There is a small side table a dresser and a wardrobe with exactly 2 hangers in it. The room measures about 7 x 14. We agree that the high ceilings really give the space a grand feeling.
Immediately we reorganize every stick of furniture in the room and create some personal space zones. We begin a shopping list. Hangers, certainly. A beside lamp would be nice. We briefly consider window treatment options and a throw rug to warm the place up a bit and make the dozens of gentlemen callers we will undoubtedly have feel more “at home.”
As mature responsible adults, we check the rules sheet we were provided upon check-in. There is a $4 fee for missing towels and a $10 charge for stolen sheets. But nowhere does it say that there will be a penalty for making improvements. A new coat of paint would do wonders. I’m thinking something in the “bluebird” family, but Kelly’s feeling something green.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Bag lady
I've been working on expanding on and increasing my level of craftiness. Both in terms of secret undercover operations and in terms of the decorative arts. Here's my status with the latter form of craft.
My Crafternoon with friends a few weekends ago went well enough, in spite of my summer cold. A fun time was had by all and the creations were quite spectacular in one way or another.
One of our projects involved using plastic bags which I have been diligently collecting for years, especially if they are pretty colors or have cool graphics. In spite of the fact that I try to use reusable totes, I had plenty of the plastic variety on hand for this project . Here are some samples of the work. The beet is a farm inspired one - I'm going to keep trying to see if I can come up with one that does the farm-raised beet justice.
The lime green with bright blue man figure is Penny's creation - two of her favorite colors of the moment - I think I'm going to frame it and include it in her room make over for her B-day in January.
The other two are mine made as examples for the Crafternoon.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
FSF - Official Garage Sale 09 Teaser
Is it warm in here or does everyone just have Garage Sale FEVER?!
And I do believe it's contagious.
Since my email distribution of the FSF Garage Sale flyer
the offers for goods have been pouring in.
In addition to the reclaimed treasure I've had handed over
I've been given several leads on bake sale sweets and treats that already have me in a mental boggle - and I don't use
the b word lightly. Our very own Soho Bakery & Cafe
proprietor is thinking of whipping up something in the
cinnamon rolls and scones categories - I'm flabbergasted.
I've also had a case of bottled water donated for our
refreshment table.
Here are a few of the treasures you will find at the sale
(while supplies last):
Who can resist the clackity-clack of a classic typewriter?
No, it's not a bicycle built for two - it's two bicycles
two perfect grape colored bicycles.
This last item is something I'm personally throwing into the ring. It's a 2T (toddler sized) puffy vest
with the FREAKING SOLAR SYSTEM on it. My niece
wore this maybe once - I've held on to it for years
(she's eight now) - not because of any special
memory, but because it is "cool" beyond words.
We all need to be rescued from our clutter - here is just a
glimpse of some of the stuff that FSF members are no
longer burdened by:
Keep your eye on the prize,
This is the easy way out of the things
that are always bringing you down.
This week - search deep within yourself and
determine if you will ever return to any of those
hobbies you may have abandoned. I personally try
about 5 new hobbies a year, most of them don't
stick,but I'm glad I made a go of it and learned
something in the process.
Garage sales are the perfect place to relieve yourself
of any:
rock tumblers
wood burning kits
odd assortments of felt and pipe cleaners
clay working tools
sewing items
candle making gear
fly fishing loot
etc. etc.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
What seriously? On wheels...
I'm lately infatuated with the idea of becoming a roller derby girl. Nevermind the fact that I struggle to remove my girth from the office chair and suck wind at the sight of a gym. I've been going to matches for the last few years and I find them really rousing.
Currently I'm at the stage in the roller girl fantasy where I have begun to check out skates online and have been pondering potential names. Here is the short list thus far (not sure if any of these are already taken):
Editor in Chest
Bitter Betty
Woman Scorned
Dark Sally
Hair Puller
Wound Service
Hungry
Pain Baker
Chef Agony
Nomo Teeth
Mark Pain
Currently I'm at the stage in the roller girl fantasy where I have begun to check out skates online and have been pondering potential names. Here is the short list thus far (not sure if any of these are already taken):
Editor in Chest
Bitter Betty
Woman Scorned
Dark Sally
Hair Puller
Wound Service
Hungry
Pain Baker
Chef Agony
Nomo Teeth
Mark Pain
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Winner!
I spend far too much time thinking about possible strategies for contests that don't and probably shouldn't exist.
Case in point - Worst breath.
The chili cheese Fritos I'm eating now would probably add an edge - though the chili scent might be too pleasantly aromatic. Also - where most contestants would probably just huff at the judges noses right away - my thought is that I'd have a brief suck in as the judging was to begin to lull them in and perhaps lead them to actually sniff - right about the time I blow hot nastiness their way. Trophy to me.
Case in point - Worst breath.
The chili cheese Fritos I'm eating now would probably add an edge - though the chili scent might be too pleasantly aromatic. Also - where most contestants would probably just huff at the judges noses right away - my thought is that I'd have a brief suck in as the judging was to begin to lull them in and perhaps lead them to actually sniff - right about the time I blow hot nastiness their way. Trophy to me.
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