03 June 2007

File: Movie Set

Close-up.

How to transform your basement into a movie set bar in an hour or less:

1. Look at basement. Panic about painting the wall or using wallpaper.
2. Have spouse suggest using faux wood paneling.
3. Drive to Home Depot. Buy faux wood paneling at $17 a piece, totaling $38.
4. Roll twine cart to the outside cutting station, where it should have been in the first place. Use twine to strap wood paneling to the top of your tiny, tiny Scion XA. Drive away as children point.
5. Unload panels into basement. Drop spouse off at local grocery store to pick up Mexican saint candles, plastic tablecloths, and diet 7UP, although diet ginger ale would have been preferable, especially if your principal actor is a diabetic.
6. Cut panels to fit basement. When spouse returns from grocery store, apologize for all the holes you're drilling into the brand-new walls. Laugh together.
7. Send spouse upstairs to brew coffee to turn the diet 7UP into beer.
8. Hang walls. Hang window.*
9. Spouse, once upstairs, will realize that she has no idea where the coffee is. She'll come up with the idea of using diet iced tea instead, noting that it is also sugar-free. Spouse will also gather the six-pack holder of Mike's lite Hard Cranberry Lemonade and place salt and pepper holders, a napkin, and plastic utensils in it. Spouse should also collect empty bottles, the two cans of Miller Lite you keep in the house just in case, and bottle caps to give the actors something to play with. Spouse will also put pub glasses in the freezer to create frosty mugs, corral the cat, and bring all of this down to the basement. Stare at spouse in awe as she attempts to feed you Cheerios because your hands are too dirty to touch food.
10. Have spouse peel the illustration of the Virgin of Guadalupe off the candle. Say a small prayer in thanks. Experiment with plastic tablecloths. Yellow may not hide the white of the table. Yellow over red looks like a picnic. Red over yellow looks like a magician's table. Choose red because it looks like a bar.
11. Decide you need art. Watch in awe as spouse opens her craft supplies and immediately begins ripping photos of bikini-clad women out of the stock photography books she's kept through four moves for this very purpose. Hang onto wall using duct tape. Open storage bin to get Christmas wreath. Hang on the wall with a screw gun. Apologize again to spouse for holes in wall. Curse yourself for leaving the dart board in the attic of your last apartment. Watch spouse in awe as she breaks one of her cigar boxes, used for making purses, in half to give you more substance on the wall. Hang cigar box lid using screw gun.
12. Spouse will decide that it needs "those warning signs in real bars." Spouse will go upstairs and hunt the Internet for the actual wording, as well as statute numbers. She will choose Alaska's statute number because "it looks like the most realistic."
13. Set up lighting.
14. Have spouse answer the door, twice, to have actors climb two flights of stairs to send them down two flights of stairs to the basement. Send actor down with frosty pub glasses.
15. Mix iced tea and diet 7UP in frosty mugs to create beer.
16. Spouse, in the interim, should print out warning sign, crumple it, give it to the cats to lie on, and decide it needs to be more ragged. Spouse should then douse it in vinaigrette dressing, find that sticky and disgusting, then try and wipe it off the page. This will be unsuccessful. Spouse should wipe harder. Spouse will find that vinaigrette will attract dirt. Have her throw it on the floor for the cat to play with. She'll be struck with a brainstorm to take a teaspoon of tomato sauce and plop it into paper. She'll then wipe it off, creating the perfect stain. Have her run the warning sign downstairs. Allow it to slip out of her hand, get caught in the wind, and fall in the drainage ditch. Have her stomp on it with Chuck T's. This will create the perfect amount of raggedness. Hang onto paneling with duct tape.
17. Hang green screen on another wall.
18. Insert actors. Begin shooting.

* If you know you're going to turn your basement into a movie set, scavenge your alley for windows people may be throwing away. Take window into your basement and cover it in hot green plastic so that you can chroma key it during post-production.

File: Movie Set

The bar in the basement with stage lighting.

File: Hearts!

They do love each other. Here are Patrick and Rio being bestest friends.

File: The Best PA Ever

Matt is making a movie in our basement so we are at Home Depot tying wood paneling to the roof of Pip. Our basement will look like a bar. This is crazy awesome.

Home now. The basement looks like a run-down bar. I'll have Matt post a still once he's finished.

28 May 2007

File: Pip's New Friend

Mom and dad bought a car over the weekend. They sent me the cutest video.
I'm having problems getting it up (and have a feeling Mom would kill me if I posted the movie to YouTube and then put in a link), so you'll have to be satisfied with this photo:

Yes, their car has eyes. It's a Toyota Camry. I'm so happy that Mom now has a set of wheels.

26 May 2007

File: Pets

This is the most literate cat in America.

16 May 2007

File: Home

For our next home renovation project: this bookcase is actually wallpaper.

Awesome!

15 May 2007

File: Take a Final Bow

Matt's final ComedySportz show. He is the figure centerstage bathed in white light. He was amazing.

His exit was very sweet. The CSz folks gave him a watch, just like when a person retires from other companies. I know it's scary to forsake the safe route for the unknown, but he is such a ball of creativity that I know he'll land somewhere great.

This sounds corny, but I cried after the show. I was just so proud of him. And I'll miss seeing him in the dorky red bowling shirt.

File: The Bean

Because I am an idiot, I took pictures of Darrah's Chicago vacation with my phone instead of my actual camera. I am in the process of getting them onto my computer now, but it's tedious because I have to do it one by one.

Here's a sneak preview: Darrah, Marla, and I in front of the infamous Chicago bean.

I had so much fun with everything we did last weekend. I spent most of the week a bit blue, but I've bounced back okay. I'm glad that Darrah has found her home in Seattle. I just wish it wasn't so far away.

But, we like to visiting.

03 May 2007

File: The Office

A view from the office. The stained glass window Matt got me for our anniversary. The Tiffany lamp we bought in St. Augustine. And our new addition, Fiona Herbert, the Fukien Tea bonsai tree. Note the flowers!

23 April 2007

File: Home Transformation, Part Deux of Deux

The after. Ta da!

21 April 2007

File: Home Transformation, Part Deux

More painting. This the before of the dining room wall.

File: Good Blogkeeping

Just updated the links to the left, including my current reads. Wow, I read 11 titles so far this month. Three things you can tell about me from my recent reading list:

1. I went to Florida.
2. I'm an obsessive planner.
3. I use my vacation time to read, read, read.

File: Love

Matt is going for a run, but post-sunblock, his wedding ring felt too loose for him. So, he took it off. Then he felt weird about leaving the house without a sign he was married.

So, he gave himself a wedding ring using marker. What a cutie.

20 April 2007

File: Florida

Goodbye, Florida, Goodbye.

17 April 2007

File: Trav via Destination Disney

Put that in your damn blog! Travis, as pictured here with my head and a quarter of Matt's face, has been enjoying the minutia of my blog. Especially the step-by-step basement painting. We met with him at Downtown Disney for dinner. He took us to this great Cuban restaurant called Bongos. It was great to see him. And now, he's famous* via the interweb.

*By famous, I mean not famous at all.

File: Destination Disney

Epcot! I heart Spaceship Earth!

16 April 2007

File: Destination Disney

Yeah, ok, Disney has the mountains, the castle, and the ears, but I come to the mouse for one thing: TURKEY LEG! Here, Matt attempts to conquer mine.

File: Destination Disney

We are here!

13 April 2007

File: Barack Obama

I know I've posted before about how Barack Obama is a great presidential candidate and why we should all vote for him.

Here's another reason:

Barack Obama is giving back $50,000 in campaign contributions because they came from lobbyists.

What politician gives money back? This man is serious about wanting to change Washington. Refusing lobbyists' contributions is a great first step. It shows that the Obama campaign puts its money where its mouth is. I respect that a lot.

I just donated another $50 to his campaign because of it. You can donate to the Obama '08 campaign, too. Or, show your support in other ways. I repeat it again: Barack for President!

08 April 2007

File: Food

Matt makes acorn squash. Mmm mmm good.

04 April 2007

File: Snow

Not sure if you can see this or not, but it is snowing. Stupid Chicago. Stupid, stupid. I demand spring!

File: Next Year in Jerusalem!

18 people. 14 wine bottles. Countless dishes. 2 Pesach-themed Muppet songs. One successful Seder. Happy Passover!

29 March 2007

File: Shelf Update


We really didn't expect to have any consequences when putting up the bedroom shelf. We thought we'd only receive benefits.

We didn't account for our cats. They use the shelf as a ladder to the top of the wardrobes, which is a sort of terrifying for us because we're afraid they'll fall. (They're not the most graceful cats I've ever seen.) Patrick already has; he turned out okay.

Patrick, our constant explorer, decided to use the shelf as a launching pad for a new jungle gym: the top of our bed (pictured above). It's a pretty surreal, yet entertaining experience to watch him navigate our room.

Ah, consequences.

26 March 2007

File: Handy Man

Matt build shelves in our bedroom! He is becoming very handy. I am proud, proud, proud of him.

File: Library Project

Shelf 2 is up at MetBlogs.

22 March 2007

File: Traffic Boo!

Lake Shore Drive. Normally an expressway, today a parking lot. Allowed speed: 40. Current speed: 3. Boo.

17 March 2007

File: The Luck of the Irish, Part III

Green river!

File: The Luck of the Irish, Part II

It is green enough. It is also cold. Inside we go.

File: The Luck of the Irish, Part I

St. Patty Day. At the river waiting for them to dye it green. It started snowing, but that has not stopped the merry-making bead throwers. I caught some.

16 March 2007

File: High Five!

Rio, the high-fiving cat.

14 March 2007

File: Dress-Up

I would like to moonlight as a swanky mom model from 1963. I bought the wig at Carson Pirie Scott before it went out of business.

13 March 2007

File: Fish

Bad news. I came in this morning and found the tank empty. Scribe was nowhere to be found. After a fantasy of the fish who morphed into light and being, I found him dried and cold on the floor. Before I talk about his short little life, let me say what a way to go. He must have flung himself out of the tank as he was a good two feet away from his bowl. Alas, the advice for a screen (which came from my dad and my boss) came too late.

Scribe was our group's little mascot. Everyone gathered around as I attempted to gather him in the net and return him to the sea, via the Chicagoland public plumbing scenic route. He was a good fish and I thanked him for all of the joy he brought us in his short life. (Maybe a year is a long time to live for a sweet little betta.)

My co-worker, Alex, made him the sign above and tacked it to my cube.

Everyone has asked me if I'm going to get a new fish. I'm not sure yet, but I know everyone wants me to bring another creature back into our department. He brought me comfort, like I'm not alone in my cube with the little guy swimming around his tank. I think everyone felt that way.

Scribe was the Superman of fish.

12 March 2007

File: Fish

This is Scribe, my at-work fish. I cleaned his bowl this morning. As I was sitting here working, I heard this "plop" sound. He had jumped out of the bowl and was flopping around on my desk. After a failed attempt to rescue him with my hands, I got the net, scooped him up, and returned him to his bowl. I'm worried that something is wrong. (I'm also nervous that he's going to do it again.)

Anyone know why he did that?

07 March 2007

File: Quilting Galore

In case you're wondering what I've been doing at work for the last couple of months, here it is: the HowStuffWorks Quilting content extravaganza.*

We put together 354 pages with everything from how to quilt, quilt blocks, quilt patterns (with free downloadable PDFs), and a pretty cool quilting gallery.

Let your ideas run wild.

*Yes, this means that I have a lot of theoretical quilting knowledge and very little actual quilting experience. This does not stop me from proclaiming myself as a quilting expert.

File: One Finished Room

Man, this bathroom is hard to photograph. You can't really see the lavender walls, but this it: The purple bathroom picture. Otherwise known as our only finished room.

Thanks to Karen for the nudge and the pretty felted bowl.

02 March 2007

File: Virtual Moving!

Good news! The Library Project has been picked up by MetroBlogging Chicago. Continue the saga of all 216 shelves over there.

I've included a little box (scroll down, it's on the left) that should tell you whenever I've posted something cool.*


*The box is just a bunch of code. It has no idea if my writing is cool or not.

28 February 2007

File: The Day After

Today is our third wedding anniversary. I thought our wedding day would be the happiest of my life, but before we walked down the aisle my dad gave me some sage advice. He said that I shouldn't look to our wedding day full of celebration as the pinnacle of happiness and fulfillment. Instead, I should look to the day after and the day after and the many days after until happily ever after.

I didn't quite understand it at the time because our wedding day was filled with so much joy, but after three years I finally get it. The brilliance and strength of our marriage is not in the goings-away or in the moments filled with parties, but in the mundane everydayness of our lives.

This is what I have learned to treasure. And while I haven't felt that I would burst from joy everyday, I am, overall, the happiest I've ever been. Matt, thank you for being my anchor to all things true. May we always have 120.

27 February 2007

File: We Went to the Dells!

So, our weekend was quite the adventure. Who knew that Wisconsin was going to get 15 inches of snow? Certainly not me.

The drive in was fun. We talked the whole way and the roads weren’t bad. Despite getting lost in search of an Arby’s, we made it there in one piece.

Our first stop was the Wollersheim Winery. This place looked beautiful, even with all the snow. We were going to take a winery tour, but we were running late, so we decided to do the wine tasting instead. We had only tasted wine at one other time, on our second anniversary when we went out to Starved Rock, so we were still excited about it. There was less presentation than we had the previous time. It was pretty much, “Here’s your wine. Now what?” Despite the slightly rude service, the wine tasted awesome. They had cranberry wine. Yum! We bought five bottles.

Then, we traveled to the Sundara Spa and Suites. I picked it because of the reviews. It was rated in almost every magazine as the best spa in the Midwest. While it was certainly a fun experience, I don’t think I would agree with that statement. Maybe normal spa goers don’t expect much, but when I’m spending a chunk of change on a room, I expect a certain level of detail that was lacking. Matt summed it up: this would have been the perfect experience had it been a hundred dollars cheaper.

We got there a little late, so we were told to go right upstairs and change into our swimsuits and robes and come down for a tour. (They’re sort of demanding about the robe thing. Their measure if you’re enjoying yourself is if you stay in your robe during your entire stay, which I don’t think counts if they sort of force you to wear your robe.) We changed and came downstairs, but there was nobody waiting to give us a tour. I didn’t know where to go and was told to go through a set of doors. Through the set of doors was another set of doors (confused yet?). I wandered in and walked around in circles until someone found me and took pity on me.

They then took me to meet my treatment provider, Andrei. He was a giant of man who only spoke in a whisper. (It was a fun dichotomy.) He took me to the room, which was nicely appointed, and explained what was going to happen. It was called an herbal infusion, which meant that he first exfoliated my skin, then wrapped me in hot towels, then wrapped me in an herb and tea soaked sheet, then wrapped me in a silver space blanket until I was a Brandi/herb taco. As I had to stew in my taco wrapping for awhile, he massaged my face, head, neck, and shoulders. Then, he unwrapped the taco blanket and massaged my back, legs, and feet. It was awesome. I felt comfortable with him immediately and he did a really good job. Talk about attention to details – he got it.

After my massage, I went back upstairs to our room. Matt was still running (thus using the time to pamper himself), so I got to sit down and enjoy our room. Our room was incredible. It had a feathersoft bed, a fireplace, this really comfy leather chair and ottoman (perfect for reading), and a great view. It had bay windows that looked out onto the pine trees. They lit them at night, so it was especially beautiful to watch the snow come down. Our bathroom was also gigantic. It had its own shower section. This shower was a work of art. It had two giant rain showerheads and little moveable showerheads so there was always enough water on you. If we ever make it big, I’m going to get one of those puppies put in our bathroom.

Matt came up and we got ready for dinner. We decided to dress up because it was fun, and hey, why not? He had called the front desk and asked if there were any fondue restaurants in the area. He was told yes and they made a reservation for us. The spa offered a Lincoln Town Car service, which meant that they would drive you around for free in this swanky car. We took them up on the offer and scheduled the car. We got into the car and told the driver, John, with whom we shared a wedding anniversary, where we were going. He was surprised that it had fondue and offered to stay and wait while we made sure. Being the brave idiots we are, we didn’t want to waste his time, so we told him to go ahead without us.

Boy, were we wrong. No fondue. Ribs, underdone steak, orders that would be completely wrong, yes, fondue, no. People in hoodies and screaming babies for a 9pm seating, yes, fondue, no. British waiters from Ballaboo and “romantic” Humphrey Bogart rooms that we weren’t sat in despite having reservations for our WEDDING ANNIVERSARY, yes, fondue, no. Eh, we make our own fun.

We slept in the next day and ordered breakfast in bed. The food was much better than the previous night. It was fun to just lounge for most of the morning. Then, we headed downstairs for the Purifying Bath Ritual.

This ritual was one spoken of with reverence in all of the literature about the spa. I was disappointed the previous night because the room looked so small (and so spacious on the web site), but once I talked Matt into partaking, found it to be a highlight of the trip. There’s a shower (which felt awesome – all of their showers rocked) and you’re supposed to exfoliate yourself with herbs (big into herbs, this place). Then, you spray yourself with this refreshing body mist (dunno what it was, it smelled sort of like processed roses). Then, you enter the steam room. There was so much steam that you couldn’t see in front of you. Then you hop into another shower (to regulate your body temperature). Finally, you alternate between the hot tub and the cold plunge pool. Matt liked the cold plunge pool a lot, while I was more of a fan of the hot tub. The neat thing was that my limbs tingled after going between the two.

We then got our stuff together and checked out. We got wristbands to go to the indoor waterpark, the Wilderness. This was an adventure, too. The first door opened onto such a deluge of screaming that we immediately closed the door and shot each other the warning look. We were scared. Door number two proved more promising with some water slides, a hot tub, and a lazy river. We hung out the most behind door number three: the wave pool. After a hearty lunch at Survivor’s (again, not great food, but heavy on irony), I learned something new about my spouse: he loves wave pools as much as I do. We had a blast splashing around. It was especially great to be in a bathing suit and watch the snow fall outside.

We ended our weekend with a drive home with a stop in Madison at this awesome hibatchi-style Japanese restaurant. Big thumbs up to the GPS navigation system my folks got us for the holidays for picking the best restaurant in all of Wisconsin. It was a great end to a super-fun weekend.

Yay for love!

23 February 2007

File: To the Dells!

This weekend we're driving out to the Dells to celebrate our anniversary.

As marriage is about compromise, we're staying at a spa (my idea) and going to a water park (Matt's idea). Both ideas intrigue me.

I'm so excited to wear a bathing suit and pretend we live in warm weather. (I said pretend! Pretend! We're not moving to Florida. Yeah, I'm speaking to you, Mom and Dad.)

We'll be back Sunday evening, maybe in time for the Oscars.

22 February 2007

File: A Little Bush Funny


Via Boing Boing, via Why, That's Delightful.

File: Holy Typewriter Keyboard














Courtesy of Make, I found this link: http://steampunkworkshop.com/keyboard.shtml

Holy awesome frijoles. Man, do I love typewriter mods.

21 February 2007

File: Book Security

Book security.

When I started at DePaul, I worked in the library. I thought it would be glamorous because, hey, I love libraries. Obviously, I had forgotten my times as a volunteer at the Royal Palm Beach Public Library. (More on that another day.)

My job, for which I can't even remember the title, was part of a factory line of book entry. Someone before me would recover the title in ugly library binding and place it on a cart. The cart would then be delivered to me. My job, in the fast-growing field of book security, was to open each book and place a magnetic strip against the spine of the final page. Then, when finished with my cart, I would roll it over to the guy-who-pasted-in-the-due-date-card-holder. He gave the books to the stamper who would mark them "Property of DePaul Library." Then, they were rolled to the data entry girl who would make them available in the collection.

This was a very specific hierarchy. The data entry girl was definitely at the top of the heap. One had to "work up" to this valued position. (Luckily, she couldn't lord it over me because the management wouldn't allow us to talk. Ever.)

The only way to move up the ranks was to do your job without error, which for me, meant that I had to place the strip perfectly along the spine. If it was off just a little, the library patron could see the strip (note the white line in the picture above), thus defeating its purpose as a security device. (Yeah, this made no sense to me either. What, if you could see it, would you be more likely to Exacto it out? Come on.)

Getting it perfectly aligned is extremely difficult to do. You have to get the spine just right without bending the book, and you only get one shot because those security devices are crazy-sticky. I was miserable at it. Obviously, ChiPubLib employees struggle with the same conundrum.

Once, the stamper guy was out sick and I was asked to do the security and the stamping. They made a big deal out of it because stamping was such an important job. It was ridiculous, although they did offer to pay me double-time because I was doing two jobs. I accepted. That was my most glorious moment. Sigh.

My job in book security only lasted three long months.

18 February 2007

File: The Library Project, Read: Shelf 1/216

If you were keeping a tally of my "read books," you may have noticed that I've made my way through the first shelf of the library project.

As a recap, I decided to read:

Achebe, Chinua. No Longer at Ease
Adler, Elizabeth The Last Time I Saw Paris
Abu-Jaber, Diana. Crescent
Ackroyd, Peter. The Lambs of London : A Novel

I started with No Longer at Ease. Here were my initial thoughts in the library:
7. Chinua Achebe. No Longer At Ease in paperback. I like him. I loved Things Fall Apart. This cover is an awful purple (my least favorite color), but goes in the like pile simply by strength of author. Which is I guess what it should be in the first place. Feh, book marketing.
The book was beautiful. Why I have not read everything this man has ever written? It tells the story of Obi Okonkwo, a man who, as a boy, lived in a South African village. The tribal elders saw Obi was gifted and worked together to send him to the best schools abroad. He did them proud by getting a high post within the government after college. Unfortunately, that did not last. You know Obi's in trouble from the get-go because the book opens with him walking into a trial that he's been dreading. Achebe feeds the reader the details throughout the narrative. He tells it in simple, straight-forward language, which is a perfect complement to the rich landscape and intriguing portraits he also created. This book hinges on the corruption of South American politics, but unlike Things Fall Apart, this is not the novel's primary focus. This book shows the micro level of how corruption affects a single man of promise.

I liked Things Fall Apart more, but still think this is worth the read. Achebe's writing is strong, painful and beautiful, and inspiring. I'm planning on adding No Longer at Ease to my personal library, but I'm hoping to find an edition that isn't clothed in a hideous purple cover.

The next book I read was The Lambs of London. This was the sticker book. Again, a recap of my thoughts before reading:
9. Peter Ackroyd. The Lambs of London in hardcover. Maybe -- good Publisher's Weekly review, but not thrilled with the idea of historical fiction. Wait! I just opened it. It has Scooby-Doo stickers. Definite second look.
Not to harp on the stickers thing, but getting cool stickers was the best part of this book. It reminded me of book crossing, a concept I love that is practiced worldwide. This book I did not love, although it is also read worldwide. (The author, Peter Ackroyd, is a Brit.) I'd like to say I had heard of the author before, but I would be lying. A quick Google search revealed that he's quite the literary guy. I'm sure his other work is better than this and would be willing to give his Oscar Wilde stuff a read.

This book is a fictionalized version of the lives of Mary and Charles Lamb. In real life, the Lambs were a fascinating brother and sister pair who wrote criticism and a children's version of Shakespeare’s plays together. They both also suffered from serious mental illness -- Mary's demons caused her to kill her mother. Famous Shakespearean forger William Ireland also makes a fictionalized appearance in this novel. The two stories should give Ackroyd all of the drama needed for a great read.

Unfortunately, the fiction isn't quite as interesting as the truth. The novel is based around Mary's loneliness (pre-mother-killing). The only things that bring her out of herself are her brother Charles and her friendship with William Ireland. Ireland discovers new works of Shakespeare, which he shares with Mary in hopes of getting closer to Charles. Ireland begins to accrue more and more success, but he never quite enters into the social circles he desires (especially the one Charles runs). Then, things fall apart. Oh, and Mary kills her mother, but it’s sort of portrayed as an after-thought.

The writing is very, very dry. Not dry like a good martini, but dry as in dull. The writing feels forced and exaggerated. The characters are but sketches. The biggest issue I had with it is that Ackroyd tries to show off his knowledge of invented Shakespeare. It comes off as preachy and ineffective. That said, everyone from Publishers Weekly to the New York Times loved it. Not true of me, but I loved that it came with stickers.

Crescent was my next read. My initial reaction to the title:
6. Diana Abu-Jaber. Crescent in hardcover. I like the pretty cover. It looks newish, which means that it probably doesn't have roaches. It got good reviews for first book from the New Yorker and the New York Times. Hmm, suspicious -- no good reviews on this one. I read half a page and it did pass the infamous page turner test. Definite maybe.
This book was such a relief from the sticker book. Talk about gorgeous writing. Abu-Jaber does an amazing job of interweaving a few contrasting stories. The first is a family myth of a man who gets lost and the woman who goes to find him. The second is the story of Sirine, a woman of Iraqi-American heritage, whose parents were killed during a UN mission when she was a child. She was raised in her uncle's house, where she still lives. At age 39, she is a bit of a loner, but is an amazing chef who works at Nadia's Cafe. The third story is of the man she meets, Han, a visiting professor who left Iraq but is still under its power. The fourth one is a myriad of stories from all the characters who frequent Nadia's Cafe.

This book is like a patchwork dream. I want to tell more about it, but every thread of narrative comes together to make the novel work. I can't illuminate it without giving away even part of the strands. Each strand could have been made out of golden thread -- there is nothing that is lost or out of place in this narrative. Read it and it will both satisfy you and make you hungry for more.

Crescent is a true wow. Apparently, I'm not the only one who believes that. Abu-Jaber won the PEN Award for Literary Fiction for this title. I'm adding her to my authors-to-follow list. Her other books, Arabian Jazz and The Language of Baklava, are definite must-reads, now that I've been introduced to her writing. The way she writes inspires me to do my own. If, out of the whole library project, this is the only author that makes me want to sing out, then the project was a success. Her writing is that good. Yay for discoveries!

The final book on my shelf was The Last Time I Saw Paris. This is from the author who had seven books lined up next to each other, none of them calling my name. My initial reaction:
21. Elizabeth Adler. The Last Time I Saw Paris in hardcover. Ok, she has worn me down. I will take this one. It seems to be the shortest. It's about France. Publisher's Weekly and Booklist liked it. Fine.
I went into this with the best intentions. I really wanted to like this book. Alas, it was not meant to be. I made it to page 33. At the end of the fifth chapter, I had seen where it was going and was already bored and depressed. It was this sentence that took me over the edge: "There was just something about her in that red bathing suit..." (Use of ellipses is original to the author.)

So, from what I could gather, the story is about Lara, a forty-five-year-old woman whose surgeon husband is having an affair with his younger, prettier, more educated, surgical assistant. She decides to revitalize their dying marriage by booking a second honeymoon to Paris. He, of course, doesn't seem really interested and finds an excuse not to go. After Lara spends her entire life working for their marriage and their now-grown daughters (who never really call or care), she finds herself alone. She and her dog go to the beach house where she finds a piece of her deck rotted. She calls in to get it repaired and, you guessed it, the younger repair guy is really hot and interested. That's where I stopped. Flipping through the rest of the book, she takes him to Paris and uses phrases like, "It's not easy to leave half a lifetime behind, Dan, please understand that." and "Pride is no comfort in an empty bed."

I guess there is a large market of women who believe this stuff. G-d knows Cosmo keeps printing things about getting better in bed and looking younger. I just can't believe in the idea that the guy's always going to go after the younger girl, that no matter what you do, men just act that way and that, if you're G-d forbid an older woman, you're worthless. I've been around a lifetime of amazing men who don't act or think that way. I believe this line of thought is just a lazy and sloppy proliferation of tired ideas. Add boring cliches and stock characters, and I just have no interest in wasting my time. This one will be returned to the library unfinished.

The library is closed tomorrow, but I'll head there on Tuesday for Shelf 2.

13 February 2007

File: Food

Dinner gone wrong. Nopale (cactus) is icky. Even gross with lime.

10 February 2007

File: Obama in 2008!

Barack Obama is announcing his intent for President this morning. Watch it live at BarackObama.com.

Here's my favorite speech from him. He talks about religion and politics and his own faith. It's wonderful because he addresses, in gorgeous yet plain language, how progressives can enter into the conversation on faith.

"Religious people do not have a monopoly on morality..." I find this particularly effective because so much of the debate has been exclusive. There have been the fire and brimstoners and everyone else. And, even though the fire and brimstoners are in the minority in terms of American values, they have had the loudest voices within the public sphere. I believe that is because progressives are too afraid to speak out about faith.

He goes on to point out that the same is true on the flip side when it comes to politicians coming to churches with insincere prayers. Sen. Obama continues, "I'd rather see secularists affirm their morality and ethics without pretending they are something they are not." I agree. Nothing sickens me more than seeing politicians clearly shilling their "beliefs" for votes. Your attendance at a religious institution does not make you "good." How strong are your values when you can turn around and act in an ugly, hateful, and intolerant manner -- behaviors that are outside even the most relaxed moral compasses? (Might I point to the Anderson court ruling in Washington that allows the legislature to "limit marriage to those couples able to have and raise children together." Meaning that my own parents, and the millions of others who cannot naturally conceive, would not be considered legally married. All of this to protect America from the "immorality" of homosexuality. How is that moral?)

From another part of the speech, on how secularists and religious folks are needed in the public debate: "We need Christians, Jews, and Muslims on Capitol Hill. When you have and estate tax with a trillion dollar budget going from social services to a bunch of folks who don't need it and haven't requested it, we need an injection of morality into our political debate." I'm glad he mentioned how important it is that many different voices are needed. I think one reason that progressives don't mention religion is because it does alienate our voting block. I'm extremely faithful, my tenets are guided by my belief in G-d, but I'm not Christian. I'm Jewish, yet I bristle even at my own religion when it is suggested that we hold the only keys to a moral life. I know many, many people that are just as godly with no belief in G-d. Progressives, as a whole, need to acknowledge this and accept this for what it is in order for us to build a foundation to bring in more supporters.

Sen. Obama calls for this as well. He says that we need to build on the “tenuous partnerships of religious and secular people of good will. The tensions and suspicions on each side of the religious divide will have to be squarely addressed and each side will need to accept some ground rules for collaboration."

He suggests that:
Conservative leaders:
"Understand the critical role of the separation of church and state in not just preserving our democracy, but the robustness of our religious practice."
He reminds people that it was originally the forbearers of the evangelicals who were the most effective champions of the first amendment.

He also recommends that:
Progressive leaders:
Don't "ask believers to leave their religion at the door before entering the public square. If we shed some of our bias, we might recognize some overlapping values that religious and secular people share when it comes to the direction of our country."

He goes on to make a number of other salient points, emphasizing the big ones here. His honest discourse is something I've been searching for in politics. Finally, there's a voice that says yes, we need faith; yes, we need tolerance; and yes, we need common sense. To 2008!

04 February 2007

File: Big Bowl and Big Cookie

Third course and quarter: we are losing. Our cookie now reads G Bears.

File: Football Fondue

Superbowl and fondue. A perfect tradition. Go Bears!

01 February 2007

File: Home

Oh sweet IKEA box how you thwart me. 50 minutes in. Drawers constructed 0. Nails left 76. Optimism I'll complete this problem -100.

File: Art

Over the summer, I started writing letters to people I admired. One of them was Sandra Cisneros, an amazing writer. In the mail today, along with the Netflix and a package I ordered online, was this letter from Ms. Cisneros.

I recognized the handwriting (I have a signed copy of The House on Mango Street) and started doing little cartwheels in my heart. It's a beautiful letter -- not only did she read my letter, she was affected by it.

My favorite sentence: "In the meantime, I wish you creativity." What a gorgeous statement. She's so polished and beautiful. This makes me want to write.

You can find me walking on sunshine (ooh ooh) for the rest of the day.

File: Family, Holidays, Friends, and Philosophy

Weekend 1/2 of awesome.

The weekend before last, Matt and I went down to Florida for a belated Hanukkah/Christmas/my birthday/dad's birthday/Shane's birthday celebration. It was so much fun. My mom described it as the best Christmas we've ever had. I think she's right. Everything was so relaxed and wonderful. It was just easy to be.

The gift that we thought really kicked some a was this electronic picture frame. It scrolls through your photos, has a remote, and is overall very cool. Knowing their love of photos, it seemed like a slam dunk.

Normally, when we get into my parents' house, there's a light-hearted inspection of what's different. This year was no different. Dad showed us his train set and the entire Christmas village (they had kept it all up in our honor), Mom showed off the tree and the new tv, and they both showed us the new picture frame, beaming with pride at their technological accomplishment. Yes, friends, the very same picture frame we had proudly bought the day after Thanksgiving. Matt, a mischievous imp at heart, began asking questions about this photo frame. I wanted the earth to swallow me because I was so mortified, but Matt stood there gleefully inquiring about every aspect of their purchase, which let the record show, they had bought the very day we arrived. Our luggage didn't arrive until the next day (my fault, more about that later), so this act continued for hours, with me wandering around one of the lower circles of Hades. When they opened their gift (finally), they seemed genuinely excited because they claimed they wanted two anyway. My parents deserve Oscars.

My parents overdid it on everything -- we both have the new Nintendos and a new vacuum cleaner-- but it was great. They even managed to pull off a surprise: Christel, and her husband Steve, joined us for dinner on Saturday night. I had no idea they were coming because sly Christel and my mother lied to me about her whereabouts. (And I was sad that I wouldn't get to see them.) We had a big cake, which we fed to most of the restaurant. I had forgotten how, in Florida, it's okay to talk to strangers. People will feel no inhibitions about joining your conversation, or if you're walking out of a restaurant that caters to the old and very young, to implore you for cake. That makes even a simple jog to the car an adventure.

We hung out with my aunt and cousins on our last day. I was grateful because my aunt moved around a party to be with us. Brunch, which was actually lunch because my aunt arrived an hour late, was a surreal experience. They've always been really involved with the Special Olympics. This year, they performed in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. They're even having a documentary filmed about them and Cindi Lauper is doing a benefit to raise money for their cause. This is really exciting stuff, but it eclipsed the visit. My aunt is a different person now. She was always driven, something I loved, admired and imitated, but now it's on another level, almost to the point of an obsession where she's unable to see outside herself. I hope I'm off on this, maybe only catching her for one specific moment in time, but it made me really blue.

When I leave and come home, I expect things to be just as I've left them. It saddens me to see big changes because it reminds me that I'm far away and don't get to see them as they gradually occur. There's something calming about going home because, for the most part, my parents don't change drastically. There are things that are new: the diet and fitness plan, a retirees' complete lack of schedule, their increased mobility. These are all good changes, ones I've rallied for. Even my friends don't really change -- it was wonderful to see Christel and Steve as they are. I feel we don't really change either. Yes, exciting things are happening around us and to us and that we're doing, but it seems to happen seamlessly, instead of in jerky stop-motion capture.

I was able to talk about this with my parents and that's what made the weekend so special. I feel like we've finally accepted each other for who we are. More than that, we're celebrating each other for it. It was so wonderful to really listen and really be listened to this belated Christmas. And that's what makes it the best one ever.

16 January 2007

File: The Library Project, Shelf 1/216

I was in the library last week trying to find something to read (the book I wanted was in transit from another branch), when I had that familiar tinge of embarrassment I feel every time I walk into the library. I have this daydream about reading all of the books. It's more than just a daydream: it's one of my life goals.

If you know me, you'd smile knowingly if I told you that reading every book in the library is what I consider the pinnacle of living. You might be kind enough to point out that the library is a dynamic creature, as books are constantly added to its shelves. You might even tell me that it can't be done or chock it up to me being me.

I recognize this is a very big task for a girl to accomplish in just one lifetime, but it doesn't stop me. I have a strange tenacity (and audacity) to dream that I could do it. Paradoxically, this dream also makes me feel sad and powerless because part of me thinks that it is probably impossible. I don't want it to be out of reach. It would break my heart, I think.

So, I decided that day was as good as any day. I would begin with a practice run. Hence, the more-loosely-structured-than-its-name-but-still-has- crazy-amounts-of-structure-because-I-thought-of-it library project. My plan is to read at least one book from every shelf in fiction.

The relaxed rules: I would begin in my local library because it's close, the collection is smaller than the main branch, and most importantly, I was there when I conceived this plan. I would start with A and work my way through Z, one shelf at a time. I could read as many books that interested me on a shelf, but I had to read at least one. As this could be a longish project, I could read non library project books as well, just to keep myself entertained. Ideally, I will document the library project, because, well, it's me and I like to document things.

The Rogers Park Library has 216 shelves of fiction. On Tuesday night, I started with shelf one. I took down all of the books and evaluated each one, mostly based on the covers (take that folk wisdom) and other random criteria that I'll describe below. Books in green were put to the side to consider more closely.

Shelf 1 Contents, Books 1-22

  1. Edward Abbey. The Fool's Progress in hardcover. Judged by cover.
  2. Jeff Abbott. Panic in drug store paperback. Also judged by cover.
  3. Keith Ablow. Compulsion in hardcover. No interest.
  4. Keith Ablow. Murder Suicide in hardcover. Not my genre.
  5. Peter Abrahams. Crying Wolf in hardcover. Pass.
  6. Diana Abu-Jaber. Crescent in hardcover. I like the pretty cover. It looks newish, which means that it probably doesn't have roaches. It got good reviews for first book from the New Yorker and the New York Times. Hmm, suspicious -- no good reviews on this one. I read half a page and it did pass the infamous page turner test. Definite maybe.
  7. Chinua Achebe. No Longer At Ease in paperback. I like him. I loved Things Fall Apart. This cover is an awful purple (my least favorite color), but goes in the like pile simply by strength of author. Which is I guess what it should be in the first place. Feh, book marketing.
  8. Kathy Acker. Great Expectations in hardcover. No -- it looks like it just came out of an AOL book application. And, the title has been done. And done well.
  9. Peter Ackroyd. The Lambs of London in hardcover. Maybe -- good Publisher's Weekly review, but not thrilled with the idea of historical fiction. Wait! I just opened it. It has Scooby-Doo stickers. Definite second look.
  10. Karl Ackerman. The Patron Saint of Unmarried Women in hardcover. No -- I hate the cover and the title.
  11. Alice Adams. After the War in hardcover. It has an appealing cover with a sweet picture of her on the back. Wow, she won a bunch of awards. I will come back to this book -- it picks up where A Southern Exposure ended. This sounds great, but I must read the first one first.
  12. Alice Adams. Almost Perfect in hardcover. I will mark for later.
  13. Richard Adams Tales from Watership Down in drug store paperback. While I enjoyed the first one this just sounds like a blantant appeal for money, like the Lion King 2. I will not fall for it. Maybe I should buy it for Matt -- then I can read it too.
  14. Richard Adams. Watership Down in paperback. I own it. It's a great read.
  15. Kim Addouizio. Little Beauties in hardcover. Pretty cover but it screams chic lit, which I might consider, but with at least three books already on the table -- no dice.
  16. Elizabeth Adler. All or Nothing in hardcover. No -- it looks like bad 80's glitz. Yuck.
  17. Elizabeth Adler. Sooner or Later in hardcover. No, see above.
  18. Elizabeth Adler. The House in Amalfi in hardcover. Updated cover and photo but still too suspicious.
  19. Elizabeth Adler. In a Heartbeat in hardcover. Still no.
  20. Elizabeth Adler. Invitation to Provence in hardcover. My G-d, she has a lot of books.
  21. Elizabeth Adler. The Last Time I Saw Paris in hardcover. Ok, she has worn me down. I will take this one. It seems to be the shortest. It's about France. Publisher's Weekly and Booklist liked it. Fine.
  22. Elizabeth Adler. The Rich Shall Inherit in hardcover. Boo -- we are back to the 1980's smarm and another book! (Watch her turn out to be my favorite author.)
Went through the check out. If you were able to Google my library record (can't, sorry), you'd find these books:

Achebe, Chinua. No longer at ease

Bloom, Harold. How to read and why

Adler, Elizabeth The last time I saw Paris

Abu-Jaber, Diana. Crescent

Phillips, Lisa A. Public radio : behind the voices

Ackroyd, Peter, 1949 The Lambs of London : a novel

Public Radio and How to Read and Why were fun books. Fun books are allowed.

I've got some reading to do. A lot of reading to do. This will keep me busy for the next couple of years. I'm psyched.

15 January 2007

File: Home, Family, Dadfest '07

Let's Here it for the Dads!

This past weekend we had Dadfest 2007. Matt and I took Friday off to welcome my dad and Matt's dad into town. It was awesome. (I promise to post pictures.)

We started off Friday by picking up my dad at the airport, late. (Sorry!) We drove back here and he looked at our new home. He liked it. Rio and Patrick were in full cute overload and once again charmed him with their mad meowing and fetching skills. Rio followed my dad around all weekend -- I don't think she'll ever be the same.

We walked down to the Devon Market and made some smart food choices. (I'm so proud of my dad for eating right.) We celebrated my dad's birthday with winter gear and singing.

Then, we went to the airport and picked up Matt's dad, also late. (Sorry!) The plan was to rent the truck and head to IKEA, but Matt's dad (whom we call Pop) wanted to see our place. We drove back up here and we broke out the graph paper. A couple of hours and a few drawings later, we were ready.

The drive to IKEA was excruciating. It took an hour and a half, thus cutting it too close to actually buy anything (yes, there were tears). After a mere twenty minutes in the store, we were back in the car, with the promise to return the next morning. The dads and I then went out to dinner at Soupbox. My dad learned the value of a scarf when he found out that the Windy City is actually, um, windy.

Matt had a ComedySportz show and brought the funny. They sang the birthday song to my dad; he was sort of embarrassed by this, especially when we (okay, I) made him stand up and say his name. (He was so cute and shy, despite whispering suggestions into my ear all night.) Matt's dad got into the act too when Matt asked for a question from the audience and he replied, "What do I tell my son who insists on spending his Friday evenings on the stage in Chicago?" Matt's response, as an imprisoned felon, was funny because he played back. It was a good time. I love seeing the pride the dads had to watch Matt. I love watching him, too. A funny guy, my husband. There was a nice moment for me as well because a couple of people came up and complimented me on my performance in the theatre a few weeks ago (I had done a student show). The best part: within earshot of my dad. Yeehaw!

We got up uber-early on Saturday and the dads were already hatching a plan. We drove to IKEA, which my father described as a wonderland, and actually had time to shop. Perhaps we had too much time -- it was past noon when we left and everyone was getting a little antsy. We stopped at Home Depot, bought more stuff, and came home. We unloaded and returned the truck. The real reasons the dads were in town began in earnest.

Matt's dad came to build us French Doors and a desk. He brought with him awesome tools (which he let us keep, so generous and amazing). He taught Matt how to use a table saw, how to miter, how to hang doors. Matt is well on the way towards earning his stripes and becoming quite the carpenter.

My dad came in town to teach me how to fix everything. And to actually fix everything. I had problems with the washing machine, the dryer, the doors, the toilet, the shower, the lights, the plumbing. I know this makes our new place sound like the money pit, but it's really not -- there were just a bunch of little things, but I didn't know how to do any of them and couldn't have figured them out if he wasn't here. My dad and I also put together our new furniture.

Both dad efforts were a raving success. We have French doors. We have a guest room door that closes and no longer has bright gold doorknobs. We have a ten foot desk, which was a collaborative effort from all parties (even the cats, we have pictures). And, we have a toilet that no longer has a childproof flusher.

The best part about Dadfest was spending time with our dads and our dads acknowledging us as grown-ups. I always had that vision in mind about what family is or could be. This weekend, it was everything I ever wanted. Thank you, dads, for it all.

08 January 2007

File: Sports

41. 14.

Let's go Gators!

I don't bleed orange and blue, but a National Championship is a National Championship. (And I just won lunch.) Yay!

06 January 2007

File: Book Review

Book: YOU: On a Diet
Authors: Dr. Mike Roisen and Dr. Mehmet Oz
Publisher: Free Press
Pages: 384
Version: Hardcover
Release: October, 2006

Matt and I watched a special on 20/20 talking about the brain and weight loss. It used fear for one team (their overweight bikini pictures shown on the baseball stadium's big screen if they didn't hit their goal) and praise for the second (positive reinforcement team approach).

We liked this idea of a challenge, as we both are not completely satisfied with our bodies (who knew that driving added pounds and flab?). We're still young and optimistic -- our goal is that in two months our waistlines/eating and fitness habits will change for the better. If not, there is a two-week moratorium on driving the car.

Knowing we needed guidance, I went to the bookstore. The You book was exactly what I wanted. I was familiar with the other You titles (YOU: The Owner's Manual and YOU: The Smart Patient) because I had checked them out of the library. They immediately became books I wanted to own (and write in).

The series is written by doctors who believe that if we know about our biology, we can retrain ourselves to avoid some of the largest health problems in our society: heart disease/attacks, diabetes, obesity, etc. So, they go to great lengths to make the content easy to digest (bad pun intended) and fun to read.

I think they go a little overboard in this respect. There are all of these "Youreka" tips that let you know when they've hit upon the gold nugget idea. While the tips are helpful, the shout-out is annoying. The drawings are clear, but cutesy in a charming way. For example, it's kind of fun to imagine little elves with spackle running around in your arteries trying to deal with the bad kind of cholesterol.

The authors also do a good job painting word pictures. According to them, the omentum, which is your body's parking lot for fat, looks like a pair of stockings hanging off of the stomach. As you gain more fat, the omentum continues to grow, pushing aside your other organs (and your waist line) while grabbing up all of the glucose, which your brain and other parts need to function. This is why the beer belly is especially unhealthy.

The book is just comprehensive enough to allow me to explain what the omentum is and does without being so comprehensive that I felt overwhelmed. It is logically laid out, leading you through the biology of food vs. your body to the emotional aspects behind why we eat (and why diets fail). Then, it explains what you can do to change your eating and exercise habits.

The exercise is a good addition. The premise is that, no excuses, you walk for thirty minutes a day, every day. You can break it up into three ten-minute segments, but you must do it. Once you conquer that, you can go on to additional strength and cardiovascular exercise that is supposed to help work and tone your muscles.

Part of the program is that you dump your cabinets of everything bad for you. We did this. I was surprised to see how many foods have high fructose corn syrup (a big no-no because your body uses it quickly and then sends messages to the brain that you need to eat again, even if you're not hungry).

The book also includes information on how to eat, instructions for the first two weeks, and a shopping list and menu with recipes. The shopping list is a bit difficult. What grocery store carries 100% whole wheat pizza dough? Also, there are some items that weren't listed (ground turkey is needed for one of the recipes, but you're never told to buy it).

The promise is that once you learn how to eat, you will retrain your body to want exercise and good foods and leave cravings behind you like yesterday's socks. I'm not sure if this is true or not, but the book was well-written, the doctors were likable, and the plan felt so doable and authoritative, that I'm willing to give it a try.

If it does work, I'll buy this book for everyone I know. If it doesn't, it was a good read anyway.

02 January 2007

File: Home

Another accomplishment: the den bookcase. Note the exploration of happy cat number two.

31 December 2006

File: Home, Holidays

We are home in the new place: view our fire room. Note the happy cat on the sofa. This is how we are celebrating the new year. May yours be just as happy.

17 December 2006

File: Holidays

Happy Hanukkah! Matt got me the pretty electric menorah tonight. Yay for pereptual flame!

12 December 2006

File: Holiday Zombie Attack Gingerbread House

We bought the gingerbread making kit from Costco and started decorating last night. Matt's twisted mind came up with the Zombie-Attack Gingerbread House. I'm pretty proud of how it looks. (I should say looked. Matt already ate part of it.)


The front.


The poor gingerbread people attempted to signal for back-up. It never came.


The other side. It reads "No Z." Perhaps they thought they'd let the zombies know they weren't wanted. Unfortunately, zombies cannot read.

The back. Note that windows and doors are boarded up, in a futile attempt to prevent the zombies.


Close-up of fallen gingerbread men.


Oh, the horror. Mmm...brains.

The zombie gingerbread house.

11 December 2006

File: Holidays

Gingerbread house decorating. I won't let Matt eat the house, so we decorated these ginger people for feasting instead. I present you with ... Man Dressed in Skeleton Costume (left, decorated by Matt) and Condoleeza Rice (right, my decoration). Warning politic statement ahead: Note that Ginger Condi has no heart.

Both were delicious.

We also made a zombie attack gingerbread house. I'll post pictures of that one shortly.

09 December 2006

File: Oops!

I giftwrapped the template (about the only thing I'm giftwrapping around here) to reflect a certain December mood. Hooray for green, red, blue, and yellow.

So, this has been the week of parking woes. Last Saturday eve, Matt's mom came into town to help us with the new home. We decided to meet Matt's Aunt Pat for dinner near her condo in Evanston. It had been snowing pretty hard the day before -- some of my colleagues couldn't even get into work. So, we felt pretty lucky when we found a dug-out on-street parking space. We parked the car and continued down the street for dinner.

After eating a pretty good Asian feast, we were walking back down the street. My dad called to see how things were going, and I was chatting with him as we walked. Let me put you in the moment (and change tenses mid-paragraph): At the front of street, we see a bunch of tow trucks. Oh, I think to myself, what a shame. Some idiot parked in the wrong place. Then, I look down the street. There are tow trucks and police cars lining the street.

Alert to the idea that something may be wrong, I look beside me to see a blur of color racing past. A second or two later, I realize that blur of color was my spouse, yelling expletives. I put tow and tow together* and get that they are about to tow our car. Yikes. I hang up on my dad, and start running down the street behind Matt. (Note: this is an icy street.)

By the time I make it to the center of the flashing orange lights, Pip, our beloved Scion XA, is up on the towing doohick. Matt has successful convinced the traffic official to release the car. The guy was pretty nice about it, but ticketed us anyway, as a warning not to park on the street when the city declares a snow emergency. (A snow what?)

Cut to Wednesday evening. I'm due at the HowStuffWorks Christmas party at a downtown bowling alley called 10Pin. Deciding that I'm way too smart to park in the $30 garage below the House of Blues, I find a meter on Kinzie. I'm a little weirded out because it does say "No Parking - Tow Zone," but I figure, there's a meter. I had once gotten a ticket when I parked on Halsted for a similar offense. I contested the ticket and won because the meter and the sign were conflicting. I figured that surely the city had learned its lesson. Besides, I thought, there are guys valeting cars to this very section. A valet wouldn't put a car in a tow area, right?

I never got to find out. The abridged version: Matt attempts to find the car. He is unsuccessful. He arrives at the party to find out where I parked it. I give him directions. He arrives forty minutes later, very cold and pretty hot under the collar. He couldn't find the car. My group had effectively closed down the party and were ready to leave.

I had previously offered to take Alex, my co-worker, home. Ken, my boss, offers to walk us to the car. (A man with experience, he must have known that the car would be nowhere in sight.) The four of us leave and go to where I parked the car. In place of Pip is a silver VW Rabbit, as if Pip had taken the blue pill from Alice in Wonderland and shrunk.

--Um, buddy, I say. I think they towed the car.
--Are you sure you parked it here?
--Oh yeah.

We continued walking to Ken's house, and he was nice enough to drive all three of us home, despite living two blocks away from the fiesta. I expected Matt to more angry than he was. He really should have chewed me out, but didn't, really. He wasn't upset (that much) that I did a stupid and got the car towed. It was walking around in the cold that got him.

Oops. I have learned my lesson on that one. Sorry, honey.

I was able to retrieve the car the next day, again another nice thing that my wonderful boss did for me, as he insisted on driving me to what we found was the underbelly of the city. A lot of seedy workings from the city that works. My favorite episode: the website said that it would cost $100 to retrieve my car. When I called to make sure that my car was actually at the impound lot they said it would be at, the guy told me that I needed to bring $170. I replied that the website said it would be less. His pithy retort: "Your car isn't in a website."

Oh, how I love this city. And will be more protective about where I place Pip. In downtown Chicago, a $30 valeted parking garage is a steal.

*deliberate bad pun

File: Home

Our bedroom. It is starting to feel like home.