Ask Not

There was a time, long ago and back in the mists thereof, when I lived and died by my site meter. I checked it constantly and if it was up I was elated and if it fell I was all self-castigate-y and "how will I regain my audience" and such.

Then I got over it.

Then I pretty much forgot about it.

Then once, a few months back, on a whim I checked it and I was averaging 30 readers a day. Which, given that I have no ad-driven revenue and pretty much just do this for my own amusement seems like a lot, right? Except, of course, that I used to average more like, uh, 120 hits a day.

So then I get kind of depressed because I know that the whole not blogging daily thing hurts and all that but holy hell, really? 120 loyal readers and then, like 70% of them go away? (Is it 70%? Remember, I was an English major). Talk about abandonment issues.

Right, so I stop with the looking at the site meter thing again because really, who needs the aggravation?

Then the other day I checked it, after the "Recapalooza" on "Blogging Project Runway" because that used to always boost my numbers (like, double them) so I just wanted to see if that trend was holding. And it kinda was but more importantly, I saw that I was now averaging 70 hits a day. On non Project Runway days. And I thought to myself, "Hey! People are coming by again! See what a little effort can do?"

And then I thought about how yesterday the President of the United States of America addressed the youth of America to basically encourage them to exert some effort and take some responsibility and, you know, not just sit around waiting for good stuff to fall into their laps and then I thought, "It's almost like he's talking about blogging".

Know what else I thought about yesterday? I couldn't help wondering about the folks who were all kerfuffled about the unprecedented act (if you exclude Reagan and Bush I, who did it before him) of a President going on telly to address the youth of the nation. I was wondering if any of them gathered together, fire all up in their bellies, to watch the President's [incendiary, god-forsaken] speech (far from the listening ears of their children, mind). And sure, they were only subjecting themselves to the horrors of listening for 15 minutes to the wretched man (who they despise beyond all reason but not because he's black) so they could go out there with an "informed" opinion and rail to whatever microphone that was available afterwards. And I just wondered if, when they heard the POTUS make his remarks about personal responsibility, working hard and not making excuses while never once talking about any political issue or declaiming an agenda, at least one or two of 'em looked around and caught the eye of another parent and had the grace to feel foolish.

I think it is veryvery important that we all remember that "conservative" does not categorically mean "wingnut", anymore than being a Democrat makes a person a leftist (or even a liberal, for that matter). Our definitions have become very garbled and it has become entirely too easy for all of us to slap on big, sweeping general labels on those who disagree with us. I am surrounded every day by people who generally do not vote as I do but can count on one hand the number of them who are, by any accepted definition, "wingnuts". I think it would be a good thing if we all stepped back from the generalizations and more often use our powers of critical thinking.

Meanwhile, Iwanski delivers, once again:

Dear JP

Hi, Poodle! Did you get home OK last night?

I know you wanted me to write a post about strangers who leave mean comments on blogs. It's good fodder to be sure. (A subset of that discussion would be about all the people who leave vile, insulting comments on various news blogs. Have you seen some of those? HMOG. That's a whole other brand of crazy- especially when someone else calls 'em out on their fraktardery and they come back with some self-righteous crap like "Oh, I guess you're just afraid of dialogue". Really? Dialogue?)

I even had some material about how no one has ever once held a gun to my head and forced me to read a blog. If I find one I don't care for - no matter the reason - I just click "next". I've never once wasted any time leaving some rude rant about how stupid that person is because I don't happen to agree with what they say. I mean, seriously, who has that kind of time? Most days I'm lucky to hit your blog and Buck's. (You make it easy, what with the whole not-updating-every-day thing and his are always short).

But then it occurred to me that my time would be better spent just reading some blogs & catching up with some of my peeps. So I did.

Sfoof was funny and Iwanski was, as usual, brilliant. And then I ran out of time. See?

How's your mom?

Love,

Pumpkin

O, Joy!

Today marks the official start of the holiday season.

Sure it does.

Today is the beginning of that most sacred triduum, Iwanskifest. The Box o' Gout will arrive today and we will begin the festal season with the singing of Iwanskifest carols and the indulgence of Chicago dogs. I'm sure all of this will be even more tasty given the added filip of joy that comes from the election of a certain senator from Chicago. It's like 2 celebrations in one.

It bears noting that today is Mr. Iwanski's actual birthday, so it would be very pleasant if you would all go buy him a McRibb sandwich and take it over to wish him well. He's a fine and brilliant man with a heart of gold and that's the sort of person that deserves all the celebratin' you can muster. We love him.

We also really love Chicago dogs, ribs and deep dish pizza. Win/win.

Just Stopping In for a Moment

I've said it before but it bears repeating, blogging is awesome. It has become so much more than a way to practise writing. The abiding and completely unexpected gift of being a blogger is all the friends I've made. The crazy thing is that to date I have met, in person, 7 blog buddies and every single one of them was exactly who I expected them to be; no artifice or fakery. And while there might have been a little nervousness in the anticipation ("will they like me as much as I know I'm going to like them?"), all that was dispelled, every single time, the second we saw each other.

Within the hour I'll have my hatty Hat here. She's become one of my bestest friends in the world, a friendship which now has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with blogging. By week's end, we will have hugged the stuffing out of Sling. Now that we've done this "meeting blog buddies" thing, we're not even nervous. Excited, yes, but not nervous. It's Sling, for crying out loud. What you see is what you get with that man and more than anything else I'm looking forward to just hanging out with him.

I first found Sling in the comments section of one of Hat's earlier bloggy incarnations. One time she wrote something about how she wished she could take her blog friends to breakfast and in our comments, Sling and I pretended we were at breakfast with her. ("Are there more hashbrowns?" "Stop bogarting the ketchup"...like that, you know, the sort of thing we do now and again). I don't know what it was and of course, that blog is gone so the whole thing can't be properly entered into evidence but that was the turning point for me. That's when I started stalking reading Sling. And then, as is the way of our people, we started emailing. And now we are going to meet.

Once upon a time JP said something to me about how even if we never met, he considered me one of his best friends. Of course, we had every intention of meeting and, in fact, have met (and eaten Cheetoes and watched "Steel Magnolias" and other stuff friends do) but I knew what he meant. Meeting is awesome, but it actually is possible to get to know and trust someone through the ethers. Of course, the fact is, once the relationship gets to a certain point, meeting is pretty much inevitable, or at least, something that gets put on a list of "Things I'd Like to Do". But the point remains. I've considered Sling a friend, a good friend, for quite some time now. The actual meeting isn't going to be that big a deal. But I still can't wait to give him a big ol' hug and sit around eating applesauce cake and playing the guitar and laughing a bunch. Because I'm pretty sure there is going to be a whole lot of laughing.

On Second Thought

The Hat and I had many interesting conversations yesterday. There were themes. It all owed to the fact that both of us wrote posts yesterday about which we felt awkward. She deigned to step outside of her light and fluffy box and comment on politics. I confessed to hating a kid.

Hat and I have talked before about our tendency to "self-censor" on our blogs and sometimes even our comments on other folks blogs. There are things I choose not to discuss in my blog. That's one thing. But there are other things that I sometimes want to say but don't because of what I'll call the Kerfuffle Factor. It's not that I'm so insecure in my nuanced views of some issues that I couldn't debate them, but I'm disinclined to debate. I'm afraid of a smackdown if someone disagrees with me (well, maybe a little I am, but just a little). Rather, it's that I find the forum of bloggy comments to sometimes be limiting in regards to real, authentic debate. What happens is this: you write something on your blog. I don't agree. Am I really going to come over to your house and tell you that I think you're a fundamentalist atheist or a wild-eyed liberal or a neanderthal wing-nut neo-con? Of course not. It's your blog. You have a right to your opinion. But the fact is, if I read your blog every day, it's because I like you. I enjoy your presence in this bloggy little community of ours. I'm not very often inclined to challenge your stated views because I don't want to rile up anyone. What's the point?

Discourse in Blogtopia is, I think, a different beast than in real life. If we were sitting in my living room having wine and you said something to which I took exception I'd be more inclined to offer a different view. But that's because we could look each other in the face, hear each other's tone, access all those physical clues that make it possible to disagree and still like each other. The black and white of the comment section makes that all a little more difficult. For me, anyway. And for The Hat, too. Which is what we talked about.

There was some rousing conversation on her blog post yesterday. None of it was mean or ill-intentioned (although I did take exception to the accusation that all Americans drive Hummers. I so don't. And neither do you). But it was rousing. A good bit of back and forth. And it made The Hat edgy. Because she likes everyone to be happy and get along. And again, people were getting along, but the mere fact that she'd opened things up to debate made her uncomfortable.

Meanwhile, over here, I vented about a horrible little girl. You all came along for the ride, imagining with me her deserved and bleak future, pledging to join a bitch slap party. It was gratifying. Until I started feeling bad about it. I mean, yeah, she probably isn't going to amount to much if she keeps this up but holy cow. I'm a grown up, allegedly. I'm a Christian. I'm supposed to be all about the tolerance and forgiveness and peacemaking. And I didn't do a very good job of that yesterday. Which started making me feel bad.

I am, I admit, a bit excitable. I can rant and rave with the best of them. I've never liked that about myself, but it isn't something I've been able to get much of a handle on even as I've gotten older and supposedly know better. Self-restraint, calm in the face of agitation, I admire that in a person. Being able to not get kerfuffled is an art. It doesn't mean one doesn't care or isn't passionate. But it is possible to feel deeply and still act and speak in a way that is thoughtful and has the power to ameliorate, to pour fragrant oil on troubled waters.

Two people did that yesterday. On Hat's blog it was Sling, who said:

Great post Hat! An Edwards/Obama ticket would be great way to bring this country around to the idea that the status quo needs to change....However..I'm too damn old to wait!I would love to see an in your face, break all the rules, flush the whole damn thing and start over, Hillary/Obama ticket...Really. I agree with you that fear breeds fear, which is why I think electing those two would get the people of this country back on the offensive where we belong. A statement that says that maybe we actually practice all that tolerance and equal rights rhetoric we preach. (any room for me behind that curtain?).

On my blog, it was Iwanski, who had this completely humbling thing to say:

Don't worry about slapping the princess. The universe will slap her around plenty. Hopefully, she will take her slaps and learn from them, becoming a great person and one of the Child's future best friends in the 12th grade.

Now be clear: I love all of you. I love what each of you offers, whether it is passion, support, edge, humor, recipes and/or outrage. I learn from it, am challenged by it and think you should all just keep keeping on with whatever you are doing in your bloggy world. I'll bring pie. But that said, I have to give snaps to those two guys for their roles here in Blogtopia.

Sling strikes me as a very calm fellow. He thinks plenty deeply and a strong sense of right and wrong. He'd kick your butt if you truly deserved it. But he has a way of expressing his views that is not confrontational or arrogant or self-righteous or any of those other sorts of things. With love and quiet humor he respectfully says what he thinks and then blithely moves on.

Iwanski is one of those rare folks who manages to always see the side that no one else bothers to mention. His perspective is unique. He can get his Irish up as much as the next guy but he is so kind-hearted, so self-deprecating, so humble that he rarely ever makes you feel a fool. Or rather, I felt like a complete fool after reading his comment yesterday but only because I had the good sense to see the error of my ways, not because he was pulling some holier-than-thou schtick on me.

So Hat and I were discussing all this last night and going on for some minutes about how much we love and respect these two guys and then it hit me. We live in such a bitterly divided society right now. Everyone is right, everyone is wrong, the vitriol flies and the vast majority of us in the middle sit quietly on our hands because it seems impossible to engage in a meaningful way. We are desperate for leadership, desperate for truth telling, tired of feeling horrible and embarrassed by what our nation has become. We are exhausted and a little sad. We need someone to lift us up out of that and push us on to being better than we've become.

There are good candidates on the Democratic side and I suppose the Republicans in the group feel equally confident about the worthiness of some of the folks on their slate. But there is still plenty of time between now and the first primaries. I would like to propose a new ticket, a ticket composed of good men, well-intentioned men, men who drink beer, make people laugh and have sweet, shiny eyes. Ladies and gentleman:

This Post is Even More Amusing for Reasons that Will Be Obvious If You Go Read Iwanski's Comment on "Games"

OK, here's the thing. I started writing the post that appears underneath here 2 days ago but didn't publish it today. Then I wondered and wondered why no one, I mean No. One. left a comment. So I wrote a post complaining about how Blogger had eaten my post. Then Gina commented. On the post I thought Blogger ate. How in the world?

This was the point at which I remembered that being able to save drafts of posts is all very lovely but if one wants them at the top of the blog, one must change the time stamp. Which I obviously didn't do. Until I had ranted about the boogeriness of Blooger. So, feeling ever so sheepish, I changed the time stamp on the original and then quickly deleted the rant about blogivorous Blogger.

Ah! But I wasn't quick enough. No. Before it disappeared from the ethers it was read and commented on by Mr. Iwanski. Which would have been no big deal if he'd just said something like, "Dude, totally". But he didn't. He wrote a poem. And so, because I get email when someone posts a comment, the verse was saved from eternal deletion. And so, I give you, Mr. Iwanski's ode to Blogger. 'K, not an ode, a limerick. Still. Poetry.

Oh, I hate blogger when it eats my posts.
That's precisely when I hate it about the most.
You type and pour your words.
Blogger flushes them like turds.
Your blog entry just becomes a verbal ghost.

(Now go read the comments. See? Even Iwanski knew how important it was for his verse to be shared with all).

Thursday Bits

The Child is coming with me to work today for just a bit. SCG is picking her up and taking her off to be a little almost-mama helper. The clock is ticking down on impending motherhood and SCG has some things she wants to get done before that.

I was going to be SCG's doula until her OB declared (a week ago) that the baby is looking to be about 10 pounds now (with a due date of Sept. 2). The doc said the odds were real high that she could labor and labor and labor and ultimately need to have a C-section. So they've gone ahead and scheduled it for Monday. That means I won't be doing doula duty but I'll get to be with her in the recovery room. Yeah, I'm kinda disappointed but we're all a little relieved that there won't be any frantic 3am "we're in labor" calls. All nice and tidy and on the calendar. If you gotta do it, you gotta.

It all seems a little unreal. We've know SCG since she was in college; she and The Spouse were in the same RCIA class, back when The Child was just a wee bit. She became a beloved part of our little community and we've walked with her through all sorts of "growing up" sorts of experiences...losing a parent, graduating, getting a "real" job, meeting and marrying her Prince. Now she's going to be a mommy and I can hardly stand it! I can't wait to meet the little beggar and pinch his wittle wittle cheeks!

In other news, I think I mentioned that The Spouse is making a movie next month, a little short written by the fabulous Iwanski. We had a rehearsal last night. It's coming together but I'm still not off book. I just don't have any time to work on my lines right now. Fortunately, I'm sleeping with the director so he's cutting me some slack.

I was the lead in every student body play from 5th-8th grade. I loved, loved, loved acting. And I was, though I say it myself, not half bad at it. But I didn't have much drive or competitive spirit. Once I got to high school, I couldn't bring myself to go out for big roles. What if I didn't get it? (I realize that is a very sad little statement...fear of rejection kept me from doing something I really enjoyed. But I was not a child possessed of enormous confidence. So there you go. And that's why Meryl Streep is famous and I'm not.)

I was in the chorus of "Finian's Rainbow" my freshman year and played Annie, the nervous housemaid, in "Life with Father" my junior year. I actually won the Best Supporting Actress award for that portrayal. (See, no small parts, only small actors). But the acting bug had pretty much fled by college. Although I dated some actors. That was enough drama for me.

Anyhoo, point is, I'm excited to get in front of the lights again, after all these years.

And now, all of a sudden, I find thoughts of work and all that I need to do today crowding into my head, leaving no room for bloggy observations. Let me tell you something: I am very grateful that this Little Job came along when it did, for many reasons. But I will be soooooo glad when I'm done. It's so nice to make a little bit of money while clarifying that no, working in an office is not even remotely what I want to be doing at this time in my life. It's nice to have that confirmed.

A Minor Adjustment

Now that we've all weighed in on the good riddance of Karl Rove, let's talk about me for a moment.

First of all, it appears the commute issue is going to be ok. I have figured out a very nifty route and, if the first business day of this nonsense is any indication, so has just about everyone else. Which also means that I just bought myself an extra 30 minutes in the morning.

People heeded warnings, planned ahead, stuffed what few commuter trains we have and generally managed without major tie-ups of any sort. Frankly, I'm surprised. And I couldn't help but wonder if maybe when all this is over some of those folks mght not stay on the trains instead of climbing into their cars again.

Although, before I start waxing to Al Gorian, please note that I was driving my car and not using public transportation, nor would I use public transportation to get to this particular job because "public transportation" in Seattle doesn't approach meaning what it means in a place like Chicago which has trains that run, all the time, in varoius directions, etc. etc. etc.

Oh, I'm quite sure that you in Chicago and NY and SF and London and Paris and other sensible cities with some sort of subway/elevated/tram/train system would regaled me with a ton of stories about how your system isn't all that great/convenient/etc. And all I would say in answer to that is, "You have no idea what you're talking about".

But instead of boring you with the paucities of our "mass transit" (and oh, those are some air quotes just dripping with sticky sarcasm so watch your shoes) I would like to celebrate a mass transit system that I am very fond of. Today we celebrate the trains of Chicago.










Funny you-had-to-be-there story: after we left the dinner party we, Buck and the Iwanski-party-of-four took the train back downtown. This was very, very civilized and cosmopolitan. Late night, a bit more wine indulged than would be reasonable if one were driving a car, but no matter. We walked a very civilized number of blocks to the nearest train station and waited for very little time before the train arrived. A train which deposited us another very civilized number of blocks from home. This is how it is supposed to work. Anyhoo, I was quite full of joie de vie and "Chicago is the coolest city evah" and still flushed with the general excitement of being in the presence of greatness and I said, as we waited for the train, "Hey, everybody! Act like you're waiting for the train so I can take a picture!"





See? Casual.

On another note: working is hard.

(I said that with a really whiny baby voice, in case you couldn't tell).

I realize that there will be little sympathy coming from this hard-working crowd. And I don't want any. Chasing after a kid/keeping a house/volunteering/blahblahblahblahblahblah is certainly work and all that hooha. Balancing that and persuing avocations while actually engaged however briefly in a vocation: not easy. You knew that. I knew it, intellectually. Now the reality is kicking my arse.


Part of the challenge quite frankly has nothing to do with balancing things and everything to do with the fact that I have a tremendous amount to accomplish in a mere 3 weeks. And atop the organizing I am, by title, the Assistant to the Interim Director, which means admin-y stuff like letters and answering phones and all that sort of office-y stuff. And I find myself trying to walk a very thin line between learning enough to do an effective job without immersing myself in the work because I'm outie at the end of the month. Which is all to say that my brain hurt yesterday. Not a headache, a head hurt.

Also, and I know this sounds like whining but really I'm not, afternoon has never been my optimal time of day. I get home during the lowest bit of my energy cycle, or whatever you kids are calling it these days. For the next few weeks I must figure out how to regard the work I need to do for my real life (writing content for a website, updating the food blog, tending to family matters that require actual brain cells, etc.) without thumb-sucking and drooling.

Here's a picture of a man on the train in Chicago:


Hee.

I was thankful to come home to a very clean kitchen, courtesy of The Child, who took it upon herself to hand wash all the dishes that were not cleaned by the less than stellar performance of the dishwasher (again), and a clean Dog, again courtesy of The Child. She seems to be owning this latchkey kid thing with a fair amount of apblomb at the moment. I expect she'll be bored out of her mind by the end of the month but for now she's managing beautifully and I'm very proud of her.

Some Observations and Some Food

Yesterday we went out for lunch at Iwanski's favorite hot dog joint.

A classic Chicago dog. Yum.
Words to live by.

Then The Child and I went out and did a little shopping. It was a little warmer yesterday than it has been, but still lovely.


The afternoon was all about getting ready for the Trailer Trash party. Merlene Hogswaller, fixin' up some of her dandy devilled eggs.


'Cause any proper Trailer Trash party starts with real good horses ovaries. And Miss Healthypants brought the fried pork rinds to round out the spread.
Talk about good! Corn dogs, baked beans, tater salad and a nice red Jell-o.
Cousin John Bob brought his real fancy NASCAR cooler full of some right fine beer.
The Mouse family came on up 'cause ain't no party complete without 'em anymore. (I'm really hoping they'll come out for my birthday party in September. If you are looking for property in the Chicago area, please contact the Mouse and let her sell you something).
Since The Spouse's Trailer Trash name is Buck, we had to call the actual Buck Two Buck. (Did you know that if he'd been a girl his folks were going to name him Jacqueline Creama? Creama Wheat. Seriously. He even called his mom to confirm the story. And then we passed the phone around the room to tell her what a lovely son she has).
John Bob, posin' fer the Kodak.
MHP and The Child, doin' the Shimmy Shimmy Shake.
On the roof for the fireworks show.
Jon makes watermelon daiquiris. I'm not a fan of the watermelon. But his drinks were really delicious. Went down real smooth. Stubbed my head on 'em, but sometimes you pay the price. Paying the price. That would also be why after all this eating I look 5 months pregnant.

Climbed a grueling 11 floors to the roof to watch the fireworks (using the elevators wasn't even an option as everyone in the building plus all their guests were headed up there as well)and then came back down to sit out on the "front porch" some more and talk and laugh and call both The Neighbor and JP and pass the phone around so everyone got to talk to them.

Iwanski finally hit his wall and went home like a sane person. But Buck, MHP and the fam were just getting started. So we did karaoke until 4 am.

At one point, well before the daiquiris had kicked in, I announced that I felt truly blessed to be in Chicago with this particular group of people. It was just the truth. And later, in the midst of much conviviality, Iwanski said, "Can you believe we just met 3 days ago?". Because, you know, there we all were just hanging in that totally comfortable way that friends do.

And I observed that when I told people we were making this trip to meet people I knew from the interwebs, there were often those who would lift and eyebrow or make a remark like, "Wow. Hope they aren't serial killers". (Which was silly because what are the odds that they'd all be serial killers? I mean, really. The odds of that would have to be like, what? really, really high).

But here's the thing: we weren't the only ones taking a risk. Crikey, for all Buck knew we were going to come here and sell all his stuff on eBay. And it should also be noted here, since I noted it last night, that this trip could certainly have gone the other way. Serial killers and scam artists aside, we could have discovered that all we had in common was the fact that we blogged. We could have spent 2 minutes saying "Hi, how are ya?" and then just sat around awkwardly, wondering how we were going to stand to be around each other for a week. Or we could even have found each other really obnoxious.

JP and I have talked about this before, about this magical little circle of bloggers we've found and our friendly little virtual neighborhood. And we talked about it again last night and how superfantastic it is that our expectations about these particular people have been met and exceeded. If I lived in Chicago I would totally hang with these people. And I think they'd let me hang with them. It's just a gift, puppies. A sheer, unmitigated gift.

Oh, and a big storm blew in last night, as we sat out there on the Balcony of Terror, watching a million people trying to get out of the city. (Bwahahaha). We'd been hearing about these legendary Chicago thunder storms and it was impressive. The Child was inside when it started and came out at the first flash.

"What was that?" she asked, all saucer eyed.

"God's fireworks".

"Oh. Cool".

Today has been spent in recovery mode...cleaning up, resting our heads and watching what appears to be an airing of every episode ever of "Twin Peaks" (which was one of my favorite shows ever). There has been some napping. And mineral water. And The Child continues to explore the wonders of Easy Cheese.

In a bit we're going to head for Chinatown and a much ballyhooed dinner at Lao Sze Chaun

I will not be eating beef maw.

Oh, and happy birthday America.

A Taste of Fun

We went to the Taste of Chicago tonight, primarily motivated by two forces. One, there was going to be a showcase of Broadway shows that are currently or soon to be playing in Chicago, one of which was "High School Musical". As we arrived at Millennium Park we could hear the strains of the show. The Child ran. Partly to get there in time, partly to get away from me, as I was singing along at the top of my embarrassingly maternal lungs. The other reason was this:



Yeah. That would be me and the Mouse.


It was so cool. When we got to the Park The Spouse called her and she talked us in. Then we spied each other and started crazy stoopid waving. The Spouse got to her first and she was all, "I don't care about you" and ran for me. Big silly hugs, like long lost sisters or some damn thing. (She did eventually greet The Spouse, 'cause she's nice like that). We met her charming husband, the Swiss Son and her Pre-teen and then made ourselves at home on their blankets.

Later we hooked up with the Iwanskis, too. And the funny thing was, we all pretty much sat there just talking about this and that...no big "so, tell me about yourself" stuff because, as Mouse observed, we already know so much about each other. (And that thing you've always thought about her...that she seems really funny and warm...you're right).


It was just a fun time hanging with comfortable friends, eating some pirogies and Polish dogs and chocolate covered strawberries (because we were at the Taste, after all). And after a couple of very pleasant hours, we went our separate ways. But not for long. The Mouse family is coming to our trailer trash party tomorrow.


Whoo to the hoo.


And as long as I'm finally getting my photos downloaded, here's some more unadulterated photographic proof that my blog buddies are real people:


Buck and me, Friday night at his place.

Me and the Iwanskis on Saturday night. Yes, those are tears in my eyes.

Jake and Elwood.And me, Iwanski and Mouse tonight.Dang.

Sunday Morning in Chicago

Oh man.

I have met John Iwanski.

It's all gravy from here on out.

Yesterday Jon and I took the El to the north end of town to do some grocery shopping. We passed Wrigley Field and I held my hand over my heart. I love old ballparks. Got to the store and invented our menu in the produce department. Then it was off to Jack and Steve's...old friends of Jon's...who have a bigger kitchen and a dining table that seats 10 (we had 11). We spent the afternoon cooking, talking, drinking wine and occasionally just plain giggling because after emailing back and forth about food and sharing recipes for over a year there we were, cooking together.

The menu:

Tapenade with crackers and a nice rich bleu cheese for apertif. A mixed green salad with shallot vinaigrette and a goat cheese crouton. Big fat pork loin chops that had marinated all afternoon in garlic, red chilies and olive oil. (The Spouse grilled them up for us). These were accompanied by a cherry and jalapeno salsa. Steamed asparagus with a compound lemon butter and lemon zest plus summer squash and pine nut gratin rounded out the main course. For dessert I made strawberry-nectarine kabobs drizzled with caramel and served with creme fraiche that had been mixed with sugar and limoncello. It was all just fine. But you didn't come here to talk about the food, did you?

Did I mention I met John Iwanski?

I admit. I got a little nervous as the afternoon progressed. But all of a sudden, there they were, John and Miss Healthypants, MHP's niece Stacy (who is getting married next weekend and drove down from Wisconsin to meet me...yeah, I was honored) and Stacy's future SIL, Nayla (beautiful young woman from Lebanon) plus a chappie named Harry who's a good buddy of Jack & Steve & Jon's. He reminded us of The Cardinal so we've named him the Chicago Cardinal. 'Cause we're like that.

It was a terrific party. Lots of good wine, good food, a surprise cordial that Steve brought out at dessert (whiskey flavored with maple syrup. Seriously. Delicious). I was seated across from Jon and there were times I'd catch his eye and just give him a "can you frakking believe this" look and he knew exactly what I meant.

It's probably not fair to do this but I must. John Iwanski is a great guy. He's famously shy and described by his wife as a hermit. But a hermit with social skills. He's as funny as you'd expect, smart as you'd expect. He's also a genuinely nice guy. Really, truly nice. Sometimes I'd look down to the end of the table to verify that he was really there. Oh, I know. Gushing. But let's say you were at a dinner and, oh, I don't know, found yourself seated with Cyndi Lauper. Wouldn't you be pinching yourself? And wouldn't you subsequently become somewhat charmingly insufferable about the fact that you had dinner with her? Of course you would. Well, that's me about Iwanski.

MHP is absolutely adorable and funny. Stacy was a frakking hoot. Nayla was lovely, and she really gets snaps for being thrown into that situation and comporting herself with such grace. It was one of those parties where there were 3 or 4 conversations going at once and you didn't know which one to join. But I suppose the best part was just that it didn't matter that we'd never met before. That bit of it was dispatched in about 30 seconds. And let's face it, it's just terribly nice when reality exceeds your expectations.

After bidding our hosts a very goodnight, we all walked to the train together and rode back downtown to "our" place. Wine, laughter, talking, some singing. (MHP has a really nice voice, btw). Wandered down to Iwanski Manor for a bit more of the same and then Jon walked us back home and hung for a while. He and The Spouse have bonded over Emerson, Lake and Palmer.

The Child is currently singing karaoke (Uncle Iwanski loaned her his Playstation). The Spouse is perusing the packet of tourist info Iwanski graciously collected for us. And I'm starting to think that we should wander out and find ourselves a brunch somewhere.

And yes. I have pictures. But I haven't figured out how to download them yet. Just know that when they appear, that will really be me with John Iwanski. No photoshopping involved.

The Spouse and I were taking our coffee on the balcony this a.m., reviewing the fun of last night and both basically feel that we could sit on that balcony and admire the view for the rest of the week and this would have already been the best vacation ever. The fact that there is more to come....must stop now and catch my breath. We're really glad we came to Chicago.

Go Cubs.

Unoriginal Thoughts

I didn't blog yesterday and I woke up this morning at 4am with a brain tumor so I don't feel like blogging now. But I'm going to. I'm stalwart that way.

Last night I dreamt that The Spouse and I were at a restaurant with Jon, Iwanski and Miss Healthypants. I was sitting next to Iwanski and he didn't speak the entire time so I kept coming up with stuff to talk about, each topic more lame than the last. I think it's because Jon and I have been talking all week about this Chinese place that we have to eat at when we're in Chicago this summer and because Iwanski said something in a post this week about hating to have unoriginal conversations. At which point I thought, "Frak. I have to come up with some original thoughts by July. When am I going to have time to do that?"

Fascinating what the subconscious will put together for our amusement. The Neighbor had a very detailed dream last weekend wherein she was engaged to Richard Gere and her mom was angry because she'd forgotten to pack her wedding dress so her mom had to ship it to her. "And it cost me $200," she complained. The funniest thing about the dream was that The Neighbor kept calling her betrothed "Richard Gere". Not Richard, Rich, Rick, Dick or Snookums but always Richard Gere.

The Spouse is making fried chicken for dinner tonight and chimichangas tomorrow. That's exciting.

And that is all I have to offer in this brief lull before my brain tumor acts up again. I need a nap.

Primavera

Spring has sprung. Actually, it's making more of a whirring noise, like something is stuck on the gears. But it's trying really hard. The sun broke through the rain clouds a minute ago, then thought better of it.

It is damp, but everything is budding. The grass is getting lush and full. I'm thinking again about a pygmy goat. On Sunday I went out to pull weeds from the herb garden and came in smelling like rosemary and thyme. Yum. I bought garden seeds last week, too. Sweet peas (which I was supposed to plant on St. Patrick's day but didn't) and a few things for the potagers. And when I say "a few" I mean it. I'm done with planting fancy varieties of carrots and beets. I'm over peas and French zucchini. I like them and all, but let's face it. I can find that stuff in the market whenever I want. This year I'm keeping it really, really simple. There will be a pot of mesclun (the cut and come again type), tricolor beans (yellow, purple and green) and artichokes. That's it. Oh, and I'm going to order some cornichon from a website because it is super fun to make my own pickles. And of course, I'll put in some peppers and tomato plants, but I'm done starting those from seed. I end up with way more plants than my garden can accommodate and have fewer varieties. Let someone else bother with that. Plus, the grapes and apple stick will deliver plenty of bang for absolutely no buck. Love that.

Still, it's that time. I'm not going to be fussing with the gardens a whole lot but I'll be fussing. For the next couple of weeks it will be all about the weeding, moving mulch, turning compost and moving pots. Then the real fun will begin.

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I know at least 2 of you care about this. Go write a letter.

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You absolutely must take time to go read Iwanski's analysis of the latest Iraqi poll. Brilliant, as always.

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Happy first day of spring!

Well, That's a Fine How Do You Ho Ho Ho

It turns out that next Friday is the last day of school for the year. I did not know that. After being quite lacksidaisical about Christmas preparations I now have to get the bulk of it done next week, while I still have the freedom to do so. It's not a big deal, just a little surprising.

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Last night I dreamed that I found my earring, but it was missing a ruby. I discovered it at a birthday party for The Child, the theme of which was "fairies". The house was full of people I didn't know, leaving little adorable fairy-like party dresses as gifts. Except The Child was her real age and at 13 wasn't going to be fitting into any of the dresses. And then some woman wandered through and said, "I'm assuming because of her politics she'd like something that can be recycled?" Huh?

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I'm looking forward to this weekend. We don't have anything to do, except that The Child and I are going to Lorene's book-signing and out for coffee afterwards. (She told me yesterday that she wants to spend more time with me. Awww.)

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Speaking of spending time...as a family we are in the same house quite a lot but we don't necessarily spend inordinant amounts of time together doing mutual family things. Besides sitting down to dinner, that is. But we have a new project. The Spouse wants to make a little movie and he has received a script from the fabulously talented Mr. Iwanski and so it's going to be lights! camera! action! The Child and I are starring. Won't that be fun?

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I spent some time yesterday working on the play list for this weekend's 80s video extravaganza. It has, as I told JP, become a sickness with me. And mercy, just when I thought I'd run out of classic 80s hits I uncovered all sorts of things that hadn't been played yet. It'll be a fun weekend.