I'm Dreaming of a Green Spri-ing

Yes, it's only February 21, but I don't care. It's snowing today, and we'll end up with around four inches of the white stuff. I've already cleaned several heavy inchess off my car this morning, tomorrow morning will necessitate the same. 

And I'm thinking of Spring. 

That's the thing about Chicago Winters. We were treated to a few gorgeous days that reached the sixties. Trees all over the place have little knobbly buds beginning, because they were faked out by the warm weather. Lawns throughout the city shone emerald from the mixture of precipitation and sun they'd received. 

People want to burst out into our own form of Spring-selves, too. Our faces smooth, our eyes lose their squint, our backs straighten as we stand taller, reaching for the sun and its warmth...

"Faked out again," the snowflakes silently taunt us as they continue to coat us back into our Winter-selves. 

I won't bow down to the snow and cold. I've set the picture below as my desktop wallpaper, reminding me that inside, it's warm, it's green, and full of life!

(If anyone feels so inclined to use this photo as their desktop wallpaper, please be my guest - it's quite calm-invoking.) 

Simply the BEST!

What can you say about Tina Turner that hasn't been said before? Well, this is what I can say: I WENT TO SEE HER IN CONCERT LAST NIGHT!!!!!

(*significant* happy dance pause here)

Here's the thing about Tina: she gives a kick-ass show. She lights up the stage all by herself. Granted, she isn't quite as frenzied a dancer as her four "flowers" (her term, not mine, sorry) are, although their moves are strictly Tina's dance moves.

Yes, they did the rapid-butt-shake; yes, they did the arms-extended-360-turns; yes, they did the dizzying-head-flip (yes, I was exhausted just watching them!), and more! Whenever Tina joined them in the more energetic dance moves, the crowd went crazy.

It was a love fest. We loved her. She loved us. We chair-danced within an ounce of our lives. We sang - the entire crowd at the United Center sang - WHAT'S LOVE GOT TO DO WITH IT? at the top of our lungs and Tina loved us for it! We sang our hearts out for BETTER BE GOOD TO ME, PRIVATE DANCER and SIMPLY THE BEST, too. It was wonderful.

Before the concert actually started, we heard this big "Eeeeee!!" coming from down on the main floor. Oprah had arrived, and was making her way to her seat. The ladies in front of us lent us their binoculars, with which I saw Steadman, a whole lot of hands holding camera phones, and the top of Oprah's head (I think).

During the intermission, we heard an even bigger "EEEEEE!!", from a bit closer to us. We hung over the railing to gawk at Tom Cruise on the level below us, signing autographs for those lucky schmucks who happened to have seats close to his private box. (These photos are proof that I was standing close enough to Tom Cruise to holler out his name with a bunch of other middle aged women, causing him to turn his head, look at us, and wave meaningfully at us... If you can't see him clearly, then buy me a better camera phone!!)

The sets were beyond cool. Her basic set had two storeys with staircases that people jumped on, flounced down, or draped themselves upon, depending on the song. At one point, this half steel cage thing came down, guys were acrobatically fighting in it, the screens were showing clips from Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome, and Tina comes out in her alien queen looking costume to sing WE DON'T NEED ANOTHER HERO, with some totally huge scupted practically naked man standing behind her just looking pretty, while pyrotechnic flares went off behind them. Yeah, that's showmanship!! :D

At the end, when she was singing NUTBUSH CITY, she had run over to the edge of the stage, where there was a kind of circular rail. Next thing we knew, a long section of the stage lifted up and became a huge arm that swept her out into the audience, and she kind of hung over that rail, communing with her fans and pointing her mic at them, encouraging them to join in the "Nutbush - Sing it Again" chant.

Okay. I've got to say something about sensuality here. It's no secret - Tina oozes sensuality, sexuality ("it's physical, merely logical"). Last night, watching her in her many spangly skimpy outfits, seeing video images of her costumes over the years, watching her and her women dance so provocatively, whether live or on video, listening to some of the lyrics, I had the feeling that this was a celebration of the total woman, in all her glory. Woman are sexual creatures, women have beautiful bodies, and the celebration going on last night - while sexual - was not untoward or vulgar by any stretch of the imagination. It was provocative; it was empowering; it was playful; it was fabulous. And I feel better for having experienced it.

It should come as no surprise that the best moment of the night was PROUD MARY. That was her final song, except that she came back and sang two encores. Wow. Even though it was originally CCR's song, you can't think of it without thinking of Tina Turner. And, yes, she did it nice... and rough!! It seemed like they made it last 10 minutes long. The crowd went crazy when she did a long dance to it with her four dancers. We sang for her, we cheered for her, and we hollered long enough when she left the stage for her to come back and sing a little bit more.

Unquestionably, PROUD MARY was the highlight of the night. Here's a clip of her performing it at the 2008 Grammys with Beyonce. I dare you to watch without singing or dancing along!


Yeah, girl, you should be proud! Tina, I love you! Thank you for my Quality Friday!

Ethical Obligations

Here's a question: if you hear what sounds like a fight through your neighbors' open windows, are you required ethically / morally to do anything about it?

Tonight I heard what sounded like a very intoxicated female neighbor yelling at whoever she shares a home with - husband? child? roommate? If I'm correct, it's a woman I know only by reputation, not even what she looks like. But the gossip on the block is that she's been picked up on occasion being drunk and disorderly, beating up on her husband.

What I heard tonight wasn't anything to report (just yelling), but what if I were to hear someone actually beating on their spouse?

A few years ago, I gradually became aware of some odd noises coming in my open window. Five or six neighbors were gathered in the alley behind my house. I joined them, and found out they were all there because they had heard what sounded like a guy beating on his wife. He was yelling, she was screaming. I think one of them had called the police. One or two of them had shouted up to him to stop it. I think he may have shouted down some choice words at them. We were out there for some time. If the police had been called, they must have taken their sweet time getting there, because I think I left before they ever came by.

So what is our responsibility to our neighbors, our fellow humans? It's nice to know that my neighbors at least pay attention to what's going on in our streets.

DWLL Victory!

I've heard of (and blogged about, kinda) DWB (driving while Black). DWLL was a new one for me. My son came up with it while he was telling the story of how he lost his license.

He said he got pulled over on the West Side for no good reason. "DWB," I interjected, "you know, driving while Black."

"No, Mom, not on the West Side. Over there, they get me for Driving While Looking Latino. Everyone thinks I'm Puerto Rican," clarified my son.

Back to the story, the cop who pulled him over said nothing about his speed, a burned out light bulb, failure to signal, nothing. Instead, he just looked at my son and said, "you got any sh** on you?"

My son said no, but the cop asked for his registration and insurance. He did have insurance, but not with him, and the cop took his license and gave him a citation. He couldn't get it back because he owed money on parking tickets. But meanwhile, the citation only said that he didn't have insurance - in other words, he was stopped simply because the cops were profiling him.

So today, my brave, strong, sh**less son went downtown and fought to get his license back, based on the cop racially profiling him, and WON!! HA HA!! Take that, you LWR (living while racist) cop!!

(Disclaimer: The photo here is just something I found on the internet - my son says he can't remember what the cop looked like who stopped him, including what race he was. Hooray for my colorblind son!)

Dry again

Quite a change from Sunday! I drove past Anderson Hall today, and was surprised to see that the parking level was completely dry. Amazing how fast the water comes, then leaves...

Rain, rain, go away

In thirty years of living in Chicago, I have now lived through two "great floods". The first one was in 1991, and it was actually the result of a boat crashing into the side of the Chicago River, allowing water to flow into basements all through downtown, and flooding out the subways.

This one is caused by Mother Nature herself, dumping record rainfalls on our fair city over the past couple of days. A friend and I went out and took some pictures...

... of the river threatening to crest its banks and flood the auditorium at North Park University,

... of Anderson Hall, which along with the Campus Center at NPU, is evacuated and closed,

... of the sandbags keeping the waters on Carmen Ave from flooding onto Kimball Ave,

... and of Foster Ave at Pulaski, where the entire street and much of Gompers Park lie covered by water and news crews.

We always think of Chicago as a flat plain. You realize, when checking for standing water, that the City definitely does have its higher and lower ground. (I'm very thankful I live at one of the high points.)

It's very scary to see water entering your home, and there's not a thing you can do about it. I've lived through that, and hope to God I never have to again. I just pray for all the people affected by this flood, that they can dry out and clean up quickly. And for my alma mater, I pray that its buildings will not be damaged to the breaking point.

Salivating...

Okay, food trivia fans. Here's a little quiz. What do the following items have in common?

• stuffed peppers
• grilled chicken parmigiana
• chicken cordon bleu
• pulled pork
• swedish meatballs
• melt-in-your-mouth meatloaf (can'twaitcan'twaitcan'twait!!!!!)
• classic lasagna
• tuscan pot roast
• chef's special gazpacho :)
  
• ratatouille for me-eee (and Jazz)
  
• chicken pot pie
• beef bourguignon
• stuffed pork tenderloin
• chicken chili
• melt-in-your-mouth meatloaf

If you guessed they are things that I'm not cooking in October, you are CORRECT!

If you guessed they are things I am eating in October (well, at least 10 of them), you are ALSO CORRECT!

If you want to point out that meatloaf is on the list twice, no duh! It's only the best thing in the whole wide world!

Finally, if you'd like to point out that I'm using way too many exclamation points, get used to it!!!!!!!

good neighbors

They say good fences make good neighbors. I talk to and like a lot of the people on my block, even if I don't actually socialize with them beyond our sidewalk conversations. I think I have pretty good neighbors.

There's a 3-flat across the street from me. The owner is not a huge gardener, nor does he take exquisite care of his lawn (as opposed to the people in the 3-flat right next door to him, whose lawn is as green as I imagine their homeland of Ireland to be!).

Over the years he's gotten some nicer plants, and he's tried to put little mini-fence things to protect his grass. But the mini-fence things keep getting knocked over, stepped on, bent, by who knows who. And the neighbor kids from the corner apartment building have begun extending their play area to include his lawn.

I remember walking by his yard and seeing that someone had systematically bent over all the top decorations on his mini-fences, and also flattened every other one to the ground. Nice.

So today, I come home, and what's across the street? A good (and pissed off) neighbor...

County Blues

My son recently hurt his ankle. He couldn't put any weight on it, and he was even having a hard time not crying, the pain was so great. He had a totally useless visit to a physician, who told him to ice it, keep it raised and keep off it (really - not even an Ace Bandage). If the pain was still there after two days, go to the Adult Clinic at County Hospital. Thanks, doc.

So last Wednesday, we set off to Cook County Hospital (I refuse to call it the new name they've given it). We had been told to get there at 7:30; we actually arrived at 8:10 am.

Let's back up a bit. Wanting to be prepared, on Tuesday night, we tried looking up the clinic online, so we'd know right where to go, where I had to drop him off, etc. Right. Trying to get information from their website was about as helpful as the other doctor had been. So right off the bat, I'm pretty annoyed with them.

Okay, forward back to 8:00 Wednesday morning. We got up later than expected, so the day started off badly. Of course I had to stop for coffee, and my car cupholder is not very deep, so one sharp turn started spilling my scalding hot brew on his good leg.

After a stressful drive down to their campus, we were driving around, trying to find where in the world the front door was. The old building is still there, being taken down brick by brick apparently. I dropped Son off at the new main entrance and started circling back around to find the parking. After accidentally trying to go into the employee entrance, I turned the corner to find the visitor entrance, and was greeted by a man who shoved a paper into my hand, saying, "This lot's full - go park down at Juvenile Hall."

I don't think so. Screw it - I decided to park at Rush and not care about the price. As I walk over, Jazz called telling me that he wasn't in the place where I let him off; he was across the street from it, and he gave me the street address of the clinic. And told me he had to turn off his phone because he was inside the hospital building.

You'd think people should know a little about their workplace. Oh, well, you'd think a lot of things that never come true. Anyway, after asking around a while, I finally made it to the place where Son was waiting for me, in Fantus Clinic waiting room. He had already gone to the first counter and given them his name.

This place is way worse than the DMV. Everyone sits there waiting for their name to be hollered or broadcast over the PA. We waited for a while, and they finally called his name - hooray, finally get to see someone. Wrong. They took his temp and blood pressure.

So we wait again. This time, after an incredibly long time, they called his name. This time he came back to the seats with a registration card in his hand, good for one year. We wait... and wait... and wait... way longer than we've waited the first two times. Finally at about 2:30, Son went up to the front to see if he had missed his name being called. They said that, no, the doctor he needed to see wouldn't be at the hospital until 5:00 pm. And if he did want to leave - which they didn't advise - he'd have to be sure to be back by 4:30 at the latest. By now, we decide to just gut it out.

Okay, let's pause this for a second to take a little look around the Clinic. During the entire day I was there, I could count on one hand the number of White people there. That included me, and I wasn't there for services. Two of the other White women were speaking some eastern European language. Everyone else was Black or Hispanic.

The washrooms were just a tad scary. Garbage on the floor, dirty tiles. I had to wash my hands about three or four times just to take this picture while no one else was in there with me.

He got to see the doctor at 4:30, and had to run (hop) across to the main building for X-rays. We didn't make it back in time to be seen before the doc's meeting, so we waited another hour. By this time, the room was really thinning out. There was actually camaraderie building in little groups of people here and there, commiserating at having to wait all day. One man came out saying, "Now that just ain't right. I wait here 12 hours to see the doctor for four minutes. Something's wrong with this equation!"

Finally, Son actually got to see the doctor. He was told he had a second degree strain, and that it would likely be months healing. He was told to ice his ankle, keep it raised, and keep off it. And they gave him crutches. And an Ace Bandage.

We were not the last ones to be waited on. We left there at 7:45 pm.

Son was also told to come back for a check up in a week, but of course no appointment time. This time I left him at the door, it was only a half-day experience, and he was able to take the bus home, as his foot was much better.

During our day there, I couldn't help but think about the thousands and thousands of people (mostly of color) for whom this is a totally ordinary experience. And, God forgive me, I was thankful I was not one of them.

Are you my neighbor?

Yesterday on my way to work, I stopped off at my 7-Eleven. Instead of the usual homeless guy sitting on the window ledge, there was this (presumably drunk) guy, sleeping. How do we react to this? Call the police? ER? Try to get him taken to a shelter or something?

Seriously, what is the proper response? Pray for him? Surreptitiously take his picture, hoping no one will notice?

I saw a guy drunk out of his mind and trying to sleep on the sidewalk once years ago when I used to work in a different neighborhood (Belmont/Pulaski area, where unfortunately the sight of drunk Poles was all too common). The sidewalk he was on happened to belong to the bar where he most likely got trashed, and I notified the people inside, hoping that they'd do something for one of their patrons. (I don't think they did squat.)

Still freshly post-Sankofa-generally-thinking-about-righteousness mindset, this kind of thing keeps churning around. Wish I had me some answers.

Cicada Killer

These things won't hurt you. They don't sting people. In fact, we like them because they kill cicadas. Why, here's one of them now, hauling off a live cicada so that she can stun it, bury it alive, then lay her eggs in it, so they have some fresh food to feed on as they hatch. Appropriately, this picture was taken as she tromped along the picnic table out back at my job.

The fact that they look like hornets on steroids does nothing to ease one's fears. They nest in the ground, so if you walk past them in a dress, who's to say what their reaction would be if they fly up said dress and can't get out? Would I find myself being dragged around the wooden support of a picnic table somewhere, just waiting for the implantation of baby cicada killers to feed on my stunned flesh?

I don't really think I want to risk that.

Birthday plans

So I've sent out this email invitation to some friends, and am waiting (im)patiently to see if we can make a party of it for this Sunday. I'm so excited!!

TO MY BESTEST BUDDIES,

I am beginning to feel my age (beginning, hah!), and want to start doing things I've always thought were cool, but never got around to it, didn't think I could spare the money, whatever.

So my birthday is coming up next week, and I think it would be fun to celebrate by doing one of those things I always wanted to do - CHICAGO BOAT TOUR!!
(you can tell I'm excited by the double exclamation points!!)

This coming Sunday, July 27, I'm booking tickets four an architectural cruise with Wendella Boat Tour. Do you want to come along? They have an internet price of $22. (Realizing, of course, that our friendship is PRICELESS!!)

Let me know ASAP, and I'll book enough tickets for all of us.

Hoping you'll be able to come,
Waiting with baited breath (get it - baited - boats - fish - BAIT!!!!!),
Me



I hope, I hope, I hope, I hope they can all come. I've never done a Chicago boat anything, except for that one time I could wish I could forget when I was young and stupid and got drunk and then had a seizure on a guy's boat, then got back to my apartment really late the next morning, and there was Big you-know-who coming out of my apartment because everyone was worried about me because I wasn't answering my phone and they didn't know where I was, and thought maybe I had a seizure or something (which I had, but...) and so you-know-who came up and we had been separated for over a year by then and it was really weird and uncomfortable because it was kind of evident that I was still a little hung over - not to mention the fact that I had been with another guy - plus the fact that he was feeling a bit put out by coming all the way to the North Side to see if I was all right like some kind of big humanitarian gesture or something, so that experience doesn't really count. Plus I could never make the toilet flush on that boat.

So anyway, it would be nice to get a positive boating experience for my birthday this year!

(By the way, all these photos were lifted from the Wendela website and are from the architectural tour.)

Sitting Pretty

return to me
Originally uploaded by Swedish Colombian

We take photos because we want to remember, record something. I often take pictures of places I think of as ideal sitting, thinking, reading, chatting, dreaming spots. Some day, I'd like to make myself a photo book of all these places.

Like this bench in the Botanic Gardens. Almost everyone was walking past it on their path to see everything the Gardens have to offer. Its hard to slow down and just sit somewhere, when you feel you have to keep going. But I always think of the places I want to go back to...

Oh, Thank Heaven!

I love my 7-Eleven. I really do! Every morning I stop there on my way in to work or church for my 24 oz cup of steaming Joe.

The people there know me and my coworker who carpools with me. They greet us cheerfully and enthusiastically every day.

My preferred drink is a fake latte, using their steamed milk mix (which is really, really hot, by the way!), added to vanilla nut flavored coffee, with a dash of cinnamon.

It tastes and smells really good, except when it's been spilled all over the floor of your car. Twice.

The first time it was because they went environmentally responsible, replacing the styrofoam cups with paper ones (good!), and topping them off with new lids that come off as soon as the cup falls on the car floor (really, really bad!). Well, my car was overdue for an inside & out wash.

The second time was because there were no hot sleeves (needed for really hot steamed milk mix), and so the guy gave me one of those cardboard cup holder things, which of course is useless when you only have one cup to put in it. Grrr... At least the second time around I was able to clean it up myself before another trip to the hand car wash was needed.

This is one of my wonderful 7-Eleven guys. He's amazingly cheerful every morning, considering he's usually been working since the night before. (I cut myself out of the photo, since I didn't know how to photoshop away my big belly. My thought was that it was less creepy to ask if I could take a photo with him, rather than take a photo of just him... my friends assure me it's really not that much less creepy.)

It's great being known, even if the sum of almost every one of our conversations is basically, "Good morning." "Good morning, miss. Have a grrreat one!"

Oh, thank heaven for my 7-Eleven!

Walking

Yesterday my friend and I took advantage of the beautiful day and took a walk down McCormick Ave, from Bridge Street to Dempster.

I've always wondered what kind of people actually walked those paths, that extend from Greeen Bay Road all the way down to Devon Avenue.

Well, turns out that I'm that kind of people! We walked for almost 3 miles, round trip. It was just the perfect length for someone like me who doesn't get much exercise.

The walkway has beautiful gardens, lovely green spaces, lots of picnic tables and benches to stop and read, have a lunch, play a game of chess, talk with friends, or just sit and enjoy the beautiful views.

Most of the time we were walking, we were at least a little aware of the traffic noise along McCormick.

But along a good part of the walk, you really feel like you're in a kind of hideaway, separated from the business of the city for a little while.

This sense was increased when we were somewhat startled to see a deer running along the line of trees (take a close look at the picture, or click to enlarge it - the deer is there!).

The deer past us, then stopped and hesitated for a bit, barely hidden in the shadows, flipping its tail as it watched bikers and runners pass by it, all oblivious of its presence.

Finally, he ran on again. We kept looking for him near the river as we walked, but saw no more sign of him, although we did see and hear some beautiful birds, including this red winged blackbird.

While we didn't get as far south as the Sculpture Park this time around, we did stop at the sculpture of Ghandi, who appears frozen in mid-stride atop a plinth inscribed with some of his quotations.

All in all, it was an afternoon well-spent. I don't know when we'll decide to go walking there again, but we have decided that next time, we'll park at the next lot south, and continue our walk from there.

New kid on the block

Chris and Trish are two dog walker friends who live down the block from me. I met them and Max, an adult husky, and their (then) new black lab Dave when I first moved in, and introduced them to my Emily. They sympathized and grieved with me when I lost Emily, then rejoiced when I got Lucy. Last fall, I sympathized and grieved with them when their beloved Max crossed Rainbow Bridge (it's a pet owner thing - don't ask).

A couple of days ago, Chris and Trish introduced me to the newest member of their family - Tank. What a cutie! He's an 11 week old Basset Hound, silkier than satin, and just darn funny. You simply can't keep a straight face when you look at him. They've told me that total strangers look at him and start giggling.

Here he is with big brother Dave and Trish's legs! I understand Dave and Tank (Tanky to his friends) begin wrestling at about 6:00 am daily.

Tank has this funny little waddley way of walking, plus his stretched-out shape that together are so endearing, it's hard not to love him at first sight. Everything he does looks cute. And Lucy actually was getting along with him. I can't wait to hear him bay, although his mommies say they're trying to discourage that by not letting him know how funny he is when he howls.

So here he is. The new kid on the block. Tank. (heeheehee)

getting out of the city (II)

This Memorial Day I did something really fun - I took the Metra to Fox Lake and spent the day at my friend's home in unincorporated Spring Grove. Taking the train was fun. The conductor looked about 19 years old, and he so strongly resembled Harry Potter (is this the Hogwarts Express?) I had to keep myself from staring! Once I got settled, I kept trying to think of ways I could snap a picture of him without either a) looking like a total psycho stalker, or b) getting arrested, or c) getting thrown off the train. No worries - I never saw him again after I first boarded. (Was it all a dream?.......)

Wow. Gorgeous setting, lots of tall trees, large 1-5 acre lots, great yard and gardens, unpaved roads, wildlife nearby, property bordering on state park property. It's like a little taste of Heaven to go there. This is the house my friend's husband lived in before they got married and he moved to her condo in the city. I've wondered before why they didn't just sell the other house and live in one place. Now I wonder why they didn't just opt to live out there, it's so great!

We had a really nice time, laid back, just mostly chatting around a meal of steaks and corn cooked on the grill, then the first game of croquet I've played since I was about 12. Mosquitos notwithstanding, it was simply a perfect afternoon and evening.

On our way home, we drove through Chain of Lakes State Park, which was surprising to me in that it was mostly flat wetlands, instead of hilly forest, my usual experience of state parks.

We were all tired when we got home, but boy was it worth it. (I'm trying to see how I can use their country home as a weekend retreat sometime! Hah!)

getting out of the city (I)

While it's great to live in Chicago, now and then it's really nice to be able to leave the city for a short time, even just a few hours, and go to a different place. This year on Memorial Day weekend, I was able to do it not once, but twice.

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On Saturday, my friend and I went to the Botanic Gardens. It ended up being the perfect day for it, too - warm enough that you didn't feel like you were freezing, but cool enough that it was great to be walking around. The place was packed - families, couples, young, old, kids, everyone was there. Seemed every group we passed was speaking a different language, too. Even the birds were in on it, beautifully colored and noisy birds everywhere we went on the paths.

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It's a prime people watching place. Many of my photos are of people taking pictures, either of plants or of their loved ones.
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We laughed to see some shirtless body-builder guy posing by the statue. What the heck - I took his picture too! Just before we left, we saw not one but two bridal parties file past. What nice wedding albums they'll have!
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Now I've been to the Garden before, but this time was somehow more fun. Maybe because I'd been there before, and so it wasn't completely new. Maybe since it was Spring (my favorite season after all), and so many flowers and trees were in bloom. I kept finding spots that would be perfect to sit and read a book, have a conversation, or just sit and enjoy the view. The Garden has seats and benches all over the place that lend themselves to contemplation and appreciation of the beauty all around. So many times I thought to myself, if only I lived closer, I could come here more often, and more casually, instead of feeling like I have to peruse the entire place every time I came.
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All in all, the day made me appreciative of nature, of friends, of people's goodwill, and to God for creating us and this beautiful world in which we live.