There is snow blowing sideways outside my windows and I have a renewed sense of excitement for life.
Hoorah!
So, I hit a bit of a low a few weeks ago.
Tears, saying things I didn't mean, and being mean in general.
It was awful.
After far too much analyzing, both by myself and with the listening ears of Theodore, we pointed blaming fingers at the following culprits:
Cabin Fever, tired but true. I went from riding my bike each and every day to being indoors at all times other than walking to and from my car and buildings. My body needs to move.
Transition periods always freak me out, and yet every time it happens, the anxiety comes as a surprise. The end is in sight. We leave Chicago in early July and I already sense my heart detaching itself from this place that I've just been beginning to get to know. What lies ahead is a mystery full of adventure. Which is exciting and scary and getting closer closer closer, fast fast fast. I can feel the time slipping away and I am worried that I will not accomplish all of the things I said I would do, and the worry makes it even harder to do them.
I am getting older. Old parts of my self have died off and been reincarnated as something strange and unfamiliar. I belief that live is to progress, but progressing means moving both towards something and away from something else. All the while I am learning how to keep moving while anchored to another living, human being, as that person learns to live attached to me.
My job is a leak in my spirit and the hole is getting bigger. My responsibilities increase and I am pushed down as soon as I get my head above water. Or so it feels. It would be better to be alone in this struggle, but it seems that all of my coworkers are spread to thin, and so we pull on each other.
And then, finally, everything broke.
I told one of my supervisors at work how things are, and things have gotten a little less stressful.
Ted and I sat down and made a game plan for All The Things That Must Be Done Before May (when the weather gets too nice to be anywhere indoors when you aren't using a toilet, a shower or a mattress), and I have been accomplishing small tasks.
Things are feeling better and I can honestly say I am happy again.
Today will be the fourth installment of the Souper Series and I am looking forward to it, but more on that later.
love live love
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Sunday, February 8, 2009
things you may be interested in knowing
Recently I was looking for parking near my workplace with my friend/coworker/neighbor, Anya riding shotgun. We noticed a ton of bell peppers on the sidewalk beside an overturned milk crate. We looked at eachother and said, "Yeaaaaah!!" and Anya gathered the peppers into the milk crate and put it in my trunk. She got back into my car and informed me that the bell peppers were all frozen solid, and we pondered the usefulness of 20 frozen bell peppers.
I forgot about the pepper stash riding in my trunk until about a week later I was driving a car load of people to a see some music, and went to put my stuff in the trunk when I was met with the overwhelming smell of bell pepper. I could hardly stop laughing long enough to explain why I had them in my trunk and when we got to the music venue we put the milk crate and its contents on the sidewalk. One of my friends pelted another with a bell pepper, but he only did this once because it the still solid bell peppers hurt quite a bit.
Today it was a lovely 63 degrees in Chicago. In celebration of the warmth, Ted and I went on a little bike ride that ended with four dollar falafel sandwiches at Sultan's and sitting on the sidewalk basking in the glory of the sun.
We went to a party in the evening, celebrating the birth of our friend Dan. Dan is doing his graduate work studying philosophy of religion down in Hyde Park. The friends who came to his party were all super interesting and I spent most of the evening talking to a lady who has her doctorate in neuro biology. We talked about education, estrogen, animal testing, testosterone, drug addiction and Radio Lab. It was amazing and now I feel like I just had my brain scrubbed clean and subjected to a deep tissue massage.
Meanwhile, my car was broken into. After the party, we walked to my car and I went to unlock Ted's door but it was already open, as was mine. And then I noticed that both of our seats were fully reclined and pushed back and all of the contents of my glove box were on the passenger seat. It was scary having my space invaded like that, and it left me with an uncomfortable feeling of distrust in humanity. I hate feeling that way because it gives me the sense that I'm loosing a peice of hope in my heart.
Items in my car included: Three letters, a book lights, three pairs of sunglasses (two for a dollar each that I got at Thailand, one pair of Oliver People's that I got for free from a friend), oil change receipts, an empty egg carton, a very long peice of yarn, a boom box with a burned copy of Thai A Go Go Volume 2 in it, a snow shovel, 2 children's library books, a bag full of origami cranes, 2 travel packs of tissue, and the unmistakable odor of bell peppers. Only one of these items was stolen, can you guess which one?
I forgot about the pepper stash riding in my trunk until about a week later I was driving a car load of people to a see some music, and went to put my stuff in the trunk when I was met with the overwhelming smell of bell pepper. I could hardly stop laughing long enough to explain why I had them in my trunk and when we got to the music venue we put the milk crate and its contents on the sidewalk. One of my friends pelted another with a bell pepper, but he only did this once because it the still solid bell peppers hurt quite a bit.
Today it was a lovely 63 degrees in Chicago. In celebration of the warmth, Ted and I went on a little bike ride that ended with four dollar falafel sandwiches at Sultan's and sitting on the sidewalk basking in the glory of the sun.
We went to a party in the evening, celebrating the birth of our friend Dan. Dan is doing his graduate work studying philosophy of religion down in Hyde Park. The friends who came to his party were all super interesting and I spent most of the evening talking to a lady who has her doctorate in neuro biology. We talked about education, estrogen, animal testing, testosterone, drug addiction and Radio Lab. It was amazing and now I feel like I just had my brain scrubbed clean and subjected to a deep tissue massage.
Meanwhile, my car was broken into. After the party, we walked to my car and I went to unlock Ted's door but it was already open, as was mine. And then I noticed that both of our seats were fully reclined and pushed back and all of the contents of my glove box were on the passenger seat. It was scary having my space invaded like that, and it left me with an uncomfortable feeling of distrust in humanity. I hate feeling that way because it gives me the sense that I'm loosing a peice of hope in my heart.
Items in my car included: Three letters, a book lights, three pairs of sunglasses (two for a dollar each that I got at Thailand, one pair of Oliver People's that I got for free from a friend), oil change receipts, an empty egg carton, a very long peice of yarn, a boom box with a burned copy of Thai A Go Go Volume 2 in it, a snow shovel, 2 children's library books, a bag full of origami cranes, 2 travel packs of tissue, and the unmistakable odor of bell peppers. Only one of these items was stolen, can you guess which one?
Sunday, February 1, 2009
BIG
What a difference some exercise makes.
I admit I’ve been in a bit of a funk lately. It could be the cold, it could be the cabin fever, it could be my job, or it could be the fact that I’m currently reading One Hundred Years of Solitude.
This morning Ted and I rode up to Chicago Diner for breakfast (a nice little 20 mile ride, round trip) and by the time we got there I felt as good as new. Stories and smiles were pouring out of the two of us, pausing only to stuff our faces with the best breakfast ever. (We split a Breakfast Bowl: biscuits and gravy, seitan sausage and tofu scramble on top of home fried potatoes, and Cornbread French Toast sprinkled with powdered sugar, served with a side of fresh fruit, blueberry compote and maple syrup. We washed it all down with bottomless mugs of Yerba Mate.)
We had an in-depth discussion covering the loveliness of beet poop.
Ted – “It completely changes the way you think about poop.”
Me – “It makes Valentine’s Day in every toilet bowl.”
and so on.
We also spent quite a bit of time talking some more about Wendy and Lucy. We went to see it last night at the Music Box and it tore us to the core.
We rode back, and I assembled a Theremin for Ted.
Momentarily, we’ll be heading down to Hyde Park to visit a dear friend and consume some Rajun Cajun.
Later, we’ll meet up with the Superbowlers (post super bowl) to watch a terrible movie about the Pineys of New Jersey and their legendary Jersey Devil. It should be awfully amazing.
Life is good, three cheers for the weekend.
I admit I’ve been in a bit of a funk lately. It could be the cold, it could be the cabin fever, it could be my job, or it could be the fact that I’m currently reading One Hundred Years of Solitude.
This morning Ted and I rode up to Chicago Diner for breakfast (a nice little 20 mile ride, round trip) and by the time we got there I felt as good as new. Stories and smiles were pouring out of the two of us, pausing only to stuff our faces with the best breakfast ever. (We split a Breakfast Bowl: biscuits and gravy, seitan sausage and tofu scramble on top of home fried potatoes, and Cornbread French Toast sprinkled with powdered sugar, served with a side of fresh fruit, blueberry compote and maple syrup. We washed it all down with bottomless mugs of Yerba Mate.)
We had an in-depth discussion covering the loveliness of beet poop.
Ted – “It completely changes the way you think about poop.”
Me – “It makes Valentine’s Day in every toilet bowl.”
and so on.
We also spent quite a bit of time talking some more about Wendy and Lucy. We went to see it last night at the Music Box and it tore us to the core.
We rode back, and I assembled a Theremin for Ted.
Momentarily, we’ll be heading down to Hyde Park to visit a dear friend and consume some Rajun Cajun.
Later, we’ll meet up with the Superbowlers (post super bowl) to watch a terrible movie about the Pineys of New Jersey and their legendary Jersey Devil. It should be awfully amazing.
Life is good, three cheers for the weekend.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
"rice and roasted root vegetables are all the rage this winter"
- theodore chase trager
and i have been enjoying an array of roasted roots this winter, and i just can't seem to get enough.
the credit for this evening's feast goes entirely to my dear, old friend, jm (she likes her privacy, so i'm going to respect it).
preheat oven to 350
peel and chop fresh beets and a sweet potato.
quarter some brussels sprouts.
mix with olive oil, salt, pepper and oregano.
put in the oven for 45 minutes.
mix with spatula.
broil for 5 to 10 minutes.
CONSUME!
i steamed the beet tops and put some earth balance, crushed red pepper and salt on them and had them along with the magic mixture above and some brown rice.
de li cious!!
(i also made some walnut chocolate chip cookies and they were pretty amazing too, if i do say so myself.)
and i have been enjoying an array of roasted roots this winter, and i just can't seem to get enough.
the credit for this evening's feast goes entirely to my dear, old friend, jm (she likes her privacy, so i'm going to respect it).
preheat oven to 350
peel and chop fresh beets and a sweet potato.
quarter some brussels sprouts.
mix with olive oil, salt, pepper and oregano.
put in the oven for 45 minutes.
mix with spatula.
broil for 5 to 10 minutes.
CONSUME!
i steamed the beet tops and put some earth balance, crushed red pepper and salt on them and had them along with the magic mixture above and some brown rice.
de li cious!!
(i also made some walnut chocolate chip cookies and they were pretty amazing too, if i do say so myself.)
Monday, January 19, 2009
An Ill-fated Journey
Given the past seven months I’ve spent living in Chicago, it’s fitting that my first blog about life here will be a story about Ted and my latest road trip.
Ted, some friends, and I went to the Skylark Wednesday night for food, beverages and conversation. On our way there, Ted received a call from the friends we were planning to stay with on our way home from New York. We took a trip out to visit Chris, Catherine and Finley a couple months ago, and it was an amazing time. Chris and Catherine moved to a community in the woods of Pennsylvania a few years ago to work with the challenged individuals that reside there. Over one year ago, their son Finley was born. Their community has its own cows, goats, hens and gardens. They have a weavery/sewing studio, a kiln, a printmaking studio, a bakery and café. It was like a little bit of heaven, and we were really looking forward to going back. However, to our deep, multi-leveled sadness, the Clother family was calling to tell us that they would be flying out to California the following day for a week to be with Catherine’s grandfather as he steadily approached the end of his life.
This was the first of many sad happenings to befall this trip.
After the Skylark a few of us returned to Ted’s and watched a movie, it was good and we savored it over tea and conversation. Feeling happy, sleepy, and excited for our trip, I headed home with a hint of sickness creeping in.
Thursday morning, I woke up (late) packed my bags (as quick as I could) and headed to my car (feeling a little sicker than the night before). I put my key in the ignition, turned it and turned it some more, but the engine never turned on and all the dashboard icons turned off. I took the key out, put it back in, turned it with a little more gusto, and nothing happened. I began to freak out. I called Ted and he suggested that maybe all I needed was a jump. I walked home, enlisted the help of my neighbor and he manhandled his frozen hood open to expose his battery and attempted to jumpstart my car. Meanwhile, it’s negative seven degrees outside and I am not dressed appropriately. That is to say, I am dressed appropriately for a twelve hour car drive – thin tights, thin sweater, comfortable skirt, covered in my parka – but not to be outside for this long in this weather. My neighbor apologizes, but he can’t get my car going and he has to head to work. He tells me to go three blocks up to a mechanic on Western. I say OK and start walking.
By the time I get there, my legs feel like they are being jabbed by a billion needles and I want to cry. I open the door and there are two men sitting in chairs, speaking in Spanish. They stare at me and I can barely get out the words, “I’m sorry, do you work here?”
“Yes.”
“My car won’t start and my neighbor told me to come here.”
“We don’t fix cars.”
I look up and see the sign that says “Muffler Repair”, but nothing about fixing cars and my eyes start to tear up. One of the last things I want to do is walk back the way I came and five blocks in the other direction to the mechanic I usually go to. But, the very last thing I want to do is stand there and cry in front of these guys, so I turn and open the door and the wisdom of my decision is confirmed as I hear one of them say “You OK, Mommie?” I keep on walking, worried that my face is going to turn into a salty ice cube.
I get to my usual mechanic and they smile when I walk in, “How are you?” I tell them what’s going on and I cry a little more. They assure me that they’ll get it fixed as soon as possible and they put me straight into the tow truck and we go and get my car. The guy driving the truck kindly fills the air with small talk, telling me about the frequent car troubles of Chicagoans in winter. Misery loves company and I start feeling better. I go home while they work on my car. I talk to Ted, and he feels terrible for being too far away to walk over and bring me tea and hugs (although he offered, I refused).
A few hours and a lot of money later, my car is as good as new . . . almost. I’m driving over to pick up Ted when I realize my radio won’t turn on. Together, we head back to the mechanic. They look at it for a while, but can’t figure out why it won’t turn on. So Ted and I run into Walgreen’s and buy the cheapest boom box we can find.
Ignorantly thinking the worst is behind us, we climb into my car and start heading east for Philadelphia. Ted offers to drive the whole way because my morning had been so troubling and I gladly allow this act of chivalry. And then, I start feeling really sick. First my shoulders and back, then down my legs, into my arms and ankles and wrists and fingers and toes. My head is throbbing and my whole body feels like it’s burning even though I have the chills. I was sneezing and coughing and it was awful.
At one point, brace yourself, this is disgusting (I wouldn’t share it accept for the fact that I was so astonished I kept talking to Ted about it for the rest of the trip), I coughed and a booger the size of a very large raisin came flying out of my throat onto my tissue. I had to look at it twice to believe it myself. Sorry, I know that’s disgusting, but I can’t get over it.
According to Ted I moaned a lot and when he asked me what he could do to make me feel better and I whimpered “many small kisses” and he did his best to administer them to my hand and forehead whilst driving. An hour outside of Philadelphia Ted started falling asleep, so I took over the driving. What should have taken us one hour to get to Kristin’s took four. Thank you Google maps.
Sickness tainted the pure joy and excitement I had been looking forward to experiencing upon seeing the new Kristin in her new home. It is good, however, to know that some things never change, and the same sweet, kind, generous Kristin offered me tea and timidly apologized for what Ted and I considered to be more than adequate accommodations.
In the morning Kristin took us to an adorable coffee house and I tried really hard to eat a bagel. We dropped her off at her bus stop on our way to New York. I started feeling even sicker saying over and over, “My parents are going to be so bummed when they find out I’m dead in New York.” Eventually, we made it to Rie and Blair’s lovely apartment. Shortly thereafter, I slept away our first night there and Ted went to Jen’s going away party. Jen is one of Ted’s oldest friends and is the reason for this winter visit.
My fourteen-hour slumber worked like a charm, and the next morning, I was ready to face the big city. We met up with Jen and had brunch at a delicious diner. She headed home for a bit while we went to the Guggenheim and the Natural History Museum. We met back up with Jen and her friend Brianna and consumed an amazing meal at Red Bamboo. Ted and I met up with Blair and headed over to the bar Dumas works at (which happens to be a block and half away from Rie and Blair’s place). Dumas was quick to fix us up with three fancy cocktails before we could think twice about it. With the lingering sickness, although it was quite nice, I could hardly get mine down. Just after Blair went back to the apartment to get some work done, Nate Rose and his girlfriend, who happened to be in town meeting up from their respective cities (London and Austin), arrived to join us. Rose, the gentleman as always, got up to get us more drinks. I requested hot tea, but Dumas denied me saying I would have to “suck it up and drink some more booze”, I then asked if I could have hot booze at least. I remember it had an orange slice spiked with cloves floating in it, and that just smelling it made me feel woozy. I also vaguely recall saying, “Whoa, hot alcohol goes straight to your brain.” Then I remember saying, “I think I need to be in bed right now.” Shortly thereafter Ted and I got up to thank Dumas and he gave me a sad face because I was leaving without really hanging out (I wanted to tell him it was his fault, but I didn’t want to seem ungrateful), I gave him a hug and Ted says he heard me whisper “I can’t really see”. and Dumas told Ted to get me home. Ted also says I whimpered the whole way, leaning on him and saying that I could barely walk.
Our last morning in New York, we got up and had breakfast with Rie and Blair, before Rie had to go to work. Unfortunately, the time, as always, flew by, but it was lovely while it lasted. We then had one last meet up with Jen and Brianna at a super cute coffee house. We sat and talked for too long, Jen and Ted reminiscing about years long gone, Ted and I filling Brianna in on how we met. I overheard Jen telling Ted not to screw this one up and she hugged us goodbye and made us promise to take care of each other.
Having vowed never again to travel any other way, we tried to find a place to stay on the way back via couchsurfing, but emailing people the day before arrival proved not to be successful. We ended up staying at a hotel somewhere eight hours from New York and seven hours from home and it was worth every penny.
Ted, some friends, and I went to the Skylark Wednesday night for food, beverages and conversation. On our way there, Ted received a call from the friends we were planning to stay with on our way home from New York. We took a trip out to visit Chris, Catherine and Finley a couple months ago, and it was an amazing time. Chris and Catherine moved to a community in the woods of Pennsylvania a few years ago to work with the challenged individuals that reside there. Over one year ago, their son Finley was born. Their community has its own cows, goats, hens and gardens. They have a weavery/sewing studio, a kiln, a printmaking studio, a bakery and café. It was like a little bit of heaven, and we were really looking forward to going back. However, to our deep, multi-leveled sadness, the Clother family was calling to tell us that they would be flying out to California the following day for a week to be with Catherine’s grandfather as he steadily approached the end of his life.
This was the first of many sad happenings to befall this trip.
After the Skylark a few of us returned to Ted’s and watched a movie, it was good and we savored it over tea and conversation. Feeling happy, sleepy, and excited for our trip, I headed home with a hint of sickness creeping in.
Thursday morning, I woke up (late) packed my bags (as quick as I could) and headed to my car (feeling a little sicker than the night before). I put my key in the ignition, turned it and turned it some more, but the engine never turned on and all the dashboard icons turned off. I took the key out, put it back in, turned it with a little more gusto, and nothing happened. I began to freak out. I called Ted and he suggested that maybe all I needed was a jump. I walked home, enlisted the help of my neighbor and he manhandled his frozen hood open to expose his battery and attempted to jumpstart my car. Meanwhile, it’s negative seven degrees outside and I am not dressed appropriately. That is to say, I am dressed appropriately for a twelve hour car drive – thin tights, thin sweater, comfortable skirt, covered in my parka – but not to be outside for this long in this weather. My neighbor apologizes, but he can’t get my car going and he has to head to work. He tells me to go three blocks up to a mechanic on Western. I say OK and start walking.
By the time I get there, my legs feel like they are being jabbed by a billion needles and I want to cry. I open the door and there are two men sitting in chairs, speaking in Spanish. They stare at me and I can barely get out the words, “I’m sorry, do you work here?”
“Yes.”
“My car won’t start and my neighbor told me to come here.”
“We don’t fix cars.”
I look up and see the sign that says “Muffler Repair”, but nothing about fixing cars and my eyes start to tear up. One of the last things I want to do is walk back the way I came and five blocks in the other direction to the mechanic I usually go to. But, the very last thing I want to do is stand there and cry in front of these guys, so I turn and open the door and the wisdom of my decision is confirmed as I hear one of them say “You OK, Mommie?” I keep on walking, worried that my face is going to turn into a salty ice cube.
I get to my usual mechanic and they smile when I walk in, “How are you?” I tell them what’s going on and I cry a little more. They assure me that they’ll get it fixed as soon as possible and they put me straight into the tow truck and we go and get my car. The guy driving the truck kindly fills the air with small talk, telling me about the frequent car troubles of Chicagoans in winter. Misery loves company and I start feeling better. I go home while they work on my car. I talk to Ted, and he feels terrible for being too far away to walk over and bring me tea and hugs (although he offered, I refused).
A few hours and a lot of money later, my car is as good as new . . . almost. I’m driving over to pick up Ted when I realize my radio won’t turn on. Together, we head back to the mechanic. They look at it for a while, but can’t figure out why it won’t turn on. So Ted and I run into Walgreen’s and buy the cheapest boom box we can find.
Ignorantly thinking the worst is behind us, we climb into my car and start heading east for Philadelphia. Ted offers to drive the whole way because my morning had been so troubling and I gladly allow this act of chivalry. And then, I start feeling really sick. First my shoulders and back, then down my legs, into my arms and ankles and wrists and fingers and toes. My head is throbbing and my whole body feels like it’s burning even though I have the chills. I was sneezing and coughing and it was awful.
At one point, brace yourself, this is disgusting (I wouldn’t share it accept for the fact that I was so astonished I kept talking to Ted about it for the rest of the trip), I coughed and a booger the size of a very large raisin came flying out of my throat onto my tissue. I had to look at it twice to believe it myself. Sorry, I know that’s disgusting, but I can’t get over it.
According to Ted I moaned a lot and when he asked me what he could do to make me feel better and I whimpered “many small kisses” and he did his best to administer them to my hand and forehead whilst driving. An hour outside of Philadelphia Ted started falling asleep, so I took over the driving. What should have taken us one hour to get to Kristin’s took four. Thank you Google maps.
Sickness tainted the pure joy and excitement I had been looking forward to experiencing upon seeing the new Kristin in her new home. It is good, however, to know that some things never change, and the same sweet, kind, generous Kristin offered me tea and timidly apologized for what Ted and I considered to be more than adequate accommodations.
In the morning Kristin took us to an adorable coffee house and I tried really hard to eat a bagel. We dropped her off at her bus stop on our way to New York. I started feeling even sicker saying over and over, “My parents are going to be so bummed when they find out I’m dead in New York.” Eventually, we made it to Rie and Blair’s lovely apartment. Shortly thereafter, I slept away our first night there and Ted went to Jen’s going away party. Jen is one of Ted’s oldest friends and is the reason for this winter visit.
My fourteen-hour slumber worked like a charm, and the next morning, I was ready to face the big city. We met up with Jen and had brunch at a delicious diner. She headed home for a bit while we went to the Guggenheim and the Natural History Museum. We met back up with Jen and her friend Brianna and consumed an amazing meal at Red Bamboo. Ted and I met up with Blair and headed over to the bar Dumas works at (which happens to be a block and half away from Rie and Blair’s place). Dumas was quick to fix us up with three fancy cocktails before we could think twice about it. With the lingering sickness, although it was quite nice, I could hardly get mine down. Just after Blair went back to the apartment to get some work done, Nate Rose and his girlfriend, who happened to be in town meeting up from their respective cities (London and Austin), arrived to join us. Rose, the gentleman as always, got up to get us more drinks. I requested hot tea, but Dumas denied me saying I would have to “suck it up and drink some more booze”, I then asked if I could have hot booze at least. I remember it had an orange slice spiked with cloves floating in it, and that just smelling it made me feel woozy. I also vaguely recall saying, “Whoa, hot alcohol goes straight to your brain.” Then I remember saying, “I think I need to be in bed right now.” Shortly thereafter Ted and I got up to thank Dumas and he gave me a sad face because I was leaving without really hanging out (I wanted to tell him it was his fault, but I didn’t want to seem ungrateful), I gave him a hug and Ted says he heard me whisper “I can’t really see”. and Dumas told Ted to get me home. Ted also says I whimpered the whole way, leaning on him and saying that I could barely walk.
Our last morning in New York, we got up and had breakfast with Rie and Blair, before Rie had to go to work. Unfortunately, the time, as always, flew by, but it was lovely while it lasted. We then had one last meet up with Jen and Brianna at a super cute coffee house. We sat and talked for too long, Jen and Ted reminiscing about years long gone, Ted and I filling Brianna in on how we met. I overheard Jen telling Ted not to screw this one up and she hugged us goodbye and made us promise to take care of each other.
Having vowed never again to travel any other way, we tried to find a place to stay on the way back via couchsurfing, but emailing people the day before arrival proved not to be successful. We ended up staying at a hotel somewhere eight hours from New York and seven hours from home and it was worth every penny.
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