attack

A few nights ago (or more precisely a few mornings) - I had my second real honest-to-Betsy anxiety attack.  I've had minor melt downs before, but nothing that compared to this feeling of total helplessness.  Of truly feeling that I am not in control of my own body or mind.

Its one of the most terrifying experiences and I am bummed to the max that it has now happened twice.  Had it only happened once (which was about a week and a half ago), I could write it off as a crazy fluke.  But twice in two weeks - that's a pattern.

To be perfectly honest, I am not 100% sure that what happened to me last week, and a few Sundays ago, was truly a anxiety attack.*  But I don't have any other words to describe the sensation of alertness and dread that came over me.  I woke up suddenly and every nerve ending, every fiber of my being was on alert - except for this one part of my brain that was tired and wanted to sleep (all of this was happening at about 2 AM).  It was this bizarre tug-of-war happening and I felt completely powerless.  Which is the strangest, hardest part for me to understand, because I was powerless against myself.

How upset and stressed does your body and mind have to be to turn on itself?

To be powerless is the worst feeling in the world.  But to be powerless against yourself goes beyond what I could image hopelessness to feel like.  If even your own body and mind are in revolt, who can you turn to?  I remember feeling my fingers kept reflexively clenching into fists either to start a fight or to release some of the energy coursing through my veins.

I attempted some breathing exercises I had been taught to calm myself down (fun fact - if you ever find yourself in the middle of an anxiety/panic attack - your first instinct is going to be to take deep breaths, but that is actually just going to make it worse.  You want to take a deep breath, hold it in for a few seconds, and then let it out.  This way you are ever-so-slightly denying your body of oxygen which slows everything down and, with any luck, relaxes all the panic away).

They helped a little, but I was still feeling the strange pull of exhaustion and yet being totally awake.  So I did what I have been doing since I was a kid and couldn't fall asleep.  I went into the bathroom where I could turn on the bright light and not bother anyone, and I lay down on the cold tile floor with a towel in a ball under my head. And I read.

How I wished that I had access to a Blackhearts in Battersea or a Wild Magic - something I knew all the words to.  But it was the New Yorker I found next to the bed - specifically a literary review, boring as all get out but melodic and calming.  For some reason the panic and anxiety dissipated when I was reading.  The distraction of the words did more to calm me down than the breathing and the trying to be still.  Which shows you just how big a nerd I am. Words have healing powers for me.

Eventually I fall asleep on the cold tile floor and then eventually I wake up, and the anxiety has left.  So I pick myself up off the floor and head back to bed.  I don't know if this will ever happen again.  I'm hoping that the act of writing about it (though not writing about what I think may have brought it on, which is really neither here nor there) has massaged out the mental knot that is causing it.

**So after talking with a few people, it seems like what I had maybe labeled as an anxiety attack rather than a panic attack.  Which is fine.  Apparently panic attacks are worse.  So, yeah, I'll take what I can get in terms of nocturnal meltdowns.

Great clothes

Tonight when I was brushing my teeth (where most of the brilliance happens) I realized I was wearing two pieces of clothing that belonged to my great grandmother*

I considered taking a picture of myself wearing these "pieces" but after a few cell phone photo test shots, I realized this was a terrible, terrible idea.  I am a pretty girl, but right before bed is not a super attractive time for anyone.  So a vivid word description will have to do (I will do my best to keep it under 1000 words).

I am wearing her old tee-shirt with a B. Kliban cat in a tub.  I've sported this shirt out in public before, so there's a chance you've seen it on me - but its getting old and I'm afraid of getting food on it.  The design is so old I cannot find it on the internet (even when I add vintage to my google search).  Which means it's probably from before I was born.  Great Granny wasn't much of a t-shirt kind of lady, so I don't know if she ever wore it.  But its super comfortable.

Over the shirt I am wearing one of the most recent additions to my closet - an excellent LeRoy black cardigan that hits me a few inches above my knee.  It doesn't have buttons up the front, but it does have excellently large pockets.  They're good for a cell phone and chapstick.  Or about 20 tissues, when your nose is still all snotty.  This sucker is also probably older than me.

Anyway!  The clothes themselves are kind of irrelevant except for the fact that they are probably around 30 years old and still kicking!  How great is that?!  Great Granny must have done a phenomenal job taking care of her clothes because I end up with holes in most things after about a year.

Also, I feel crazy lucky that I've ended up being the only girl in my family who fits into Great Granny's clothes (some of my younger cousins probably would also fit, but they are too busy loving Justin Beiber to really care).  I also have two other shirts that belonged to her in my closet but I am terrified that they're not fashionable enough - I should probably get one of my trendy friends to check this out for me.

Weight and clothing size is such an Issue with my Mom's family (a bajillion girls will do that to themselves) and I've never quite felt like I was really the right size, especially since I have a gorgeous older cousin who is/was/will always be taller, skinner and more glamorous than I am.

But if I was any taller this tee shirt would ride up too high on my stomach.  And if I was any smaller, this sweater wouldn't be as warm and comfortable (okay- that's a bit of a stretch, but it fits quite perfectly).  Anyway - Great granny was an awesome, awesome lady - and I am incredibly lucky to have these reminders of how wonderful she is around all the time, keeping me warm and cozy.

Good night.


*At least this is what I think I have been told.  After someone in my family reads this blog, I am sure they will correct me with a quickness.

in and maybe out

I have been thinking about breathing a lot over the past few weeks.  For a variety of reasons (some of which I will eventually get into on the blog) breath has been on my mind.

I came down with a post-Green River cold on Saturday that is still lingering (and will probably continue to make me grouchy for the next week or so).  My nose has been conquered by massive globs of mucus that my sinuses are powerless against, making it nearly impossible to breath in and out through my nose.

Which means that I have taken to holding my breath for minutes at a time.  It isn't until I start to get a little dizzy that I remember to breathe through my mouth.  It would make sense to just breath through my mouth all the time, but that leaves me with my mouth hanging open for fifteen or twenty minutes at a time like a particularly dim bovine. 

I'm not sure what the best option is in this case...assuming my nasal passages will continue to be held captive for a day or two more - how do I keep myself from eventually passing out?

green city

I had this fear, possibly somewhat irrational but not totally unfounded, that in two or three years (or six or seven) that when I move away from Chicago I will suddenly realize that I had never seen the river dyed green for St. Patrick's Day.  Its one of those things that are kind of touristy, and yet I feel - an important part of Chicago tradition.

The rich culture of tradition is one of my favorite things about Chicago.  And some traditions are stupid and annoying, but they never fail to make me feel like a part of something.  And its the dumb songs, and the inside jokes and the nonsense that I love so much.

I have been told that the true amazing thing is to watch the river actually get dyed (as opposed to just seeing it all green) but that was not something that worked with my schedule this morning - so this will do for now.  I wish I had brought a real camera.  I also wish that downtown Chicago was not the epicenter of inebriated girls wearing too-little clothing, if only because it makes me feel very, very old.  Also, I don't like stepping on/near vomit (also, its NOON, learn to pace yourself).

Friday night, over too many drinks, I wondered out loud to a few of the friends I was with - if with the new Mayor coming in - the green dye budget was going to be cut.  And they assured me that people, many who would never bother to vote would be Up in Arms if their river did not get dyed.  They don't care who is in charge - they just want their more-green-than-normal.

all the things

There's been a whole bunch going on in the past few weeks - I apologize for the lack of posts, but life keeps getting in the way.  It seems that with life and exercise and the need for cat food (how are we always out??), I can only manage to spend an hour or two at home before bed and that hour, I've decided, is best spent away from my computer and with Boyfriend and the hungry, hungry kitten.  And of course - on the never ending search for the missing drill bits.

Anyway - here is some stuff that is happening.

1-Last weekend Kristin and Howie got engaged last weekend.  Making them the 7th couple I know to get engaged since Christmas.  Congratulations KristinandHowie!! and the rest of you - and the 4 couples getting married this year.  I am totally happy for you - and also wondering if there is some sort of Kool-aid or water or something that I should be steering clear of.

2- I had blood drawn today and x-rays.  Nothing too big, but it required me to fast from midnight last night to 9:45 AM.  For normal people this would be no biggie - but I am an emotional wreak when it comes to food.  I am used to eating by 7 or 8 AM, if I'm awake.  So the fact that I did not get to eat until 11 (after all the testing was done) - meant that I was completely irrational.  There was a farmer's market inside the hospital (a bizarre occurence that I never even though to question while I was experiencing it). And so I had to buy 2 pounds of organic, free-range bratwursts and a loaf of banana chocolate chip bread.  This, in hindsite was dumb but I was so hungry!  They say not to go to the grocery store hungry. I say - don't put the grocery store inside a place where I am forced to be hungry.

3- I am excited that people are deciding to visit me this year.  Cougar AND Buttmunch might be coming, and my big 'Cuz!  Summer in Chicago is amazing, but its a bajillion times better when you get to share it with other people.

4- I finally bought a day planner two weeks ago.  I thought that maybe this would be the year I would become a digital planner, but since I STILL don't have an iphone (come on July!) this is not the case - because I have no way of synching my computer with my phone or anything else.  At least 5 days of the week - when I am glued to a computer, this is not a problem, but on the off chance you try to plan something with me on a weekend, for the entire month of January and most of February - There was a chance we would make plans and by the time I got home and powered up the laptop, I would have forgotten.  So I went to Borders and bought at $1.00 planner.  I keep forgetting I have it though.  At 10 cents a month, I still feel like I am getting my money's worth...

5- E! plays Sex and the City from 7 - 8 PM every weeknight.  It has made my hour on the elliptical far less tedious.  Even though I think I've decided I hate Carrie Bradshaw - its a nice walk down memory lane.

6- I think this might be the year I go downtown and watch them dye the Chicago river green for St. Patrick's Day.  I have a meeting that morning, so I won't be down there until noon, at which point it might be back to its normal green color.  I have this funny feeling that if I don't make a concerted effort to go see it in the next two years, I will be moving away in a decade or so and realize that I never saw them dye the river green.

That's all.  See you in a few days.

Book 5 - Quite A Year For Plums

We are just humming right along.  Thanks public transit!

To be completely honest, I never would have picked up this book if it hadn't said "Author of 'Mama Makes Up Her Mind'" on the cover.  That was one of my most favorite books when I was 11 or so (I had NPR nerds for parents).  I loved Bailey White's short-possibly-some-what-autobiographical stories and hoped that Mama might make an appearance in this one.

Sadly, there was no Mama.  There was a whole bunch of other characters that I could never keep straight.  Ms. White provides a handy who's who list in the front of the book - but I was switching back to it so much that I got impatient.  Ultimately, not quite knowing how all these people were related did not really affect my enjoyment of the book.

And I enjoyed it a fair amount.  The tone was remarkably different from MMUHM - in a way that kind of disappointed me a little bit.  Part of the reason I loved MMUHM was because she was so frank and immodest about these crazy people, where I feel as though in this book - she was very delicate with these people who were pretty nutty.  It seemed as though she was worried she was going to offend, maybe? I don't know.

Anyway - Its an okay book.  At the end of it I was kind of meh - but also in a good mood and not sobbing my eyes out, so we've made some progress since the last book.

could use a timer

How to hard boil an egg when you're me:

1- Make Boyfriend buy eggs.

2- Wait about a week because you're too lazy to figure out how to boil eggs.

3- Run out of acceptable alternative proteins for your daily lunch salad and figure now is as good a time as any.

4- Google "how to hard boil an egg."

5- Get judged by Boyfriend for never having hard boiled an egg.

6- Retort back that in Your Family, hard boiled eggs are an "Easter-only" food and it's not like Boyfriend could give you accurate instructions so who is he to judge.

7- Decide how many eggs to hard boil - this is especially challenging because you know you want to make scrambled eggs or maybe omelettes or maybe french toast this weekend, so you have to chose carefully.  Because there is no possibly way you can go to the grocery store between now and the weekend.  Its IMPOSSIBLE.  New neighborhood sucks.  Select 5 eggs.  Because there is nothing like the frustration of having a single egg left in the carton. 

8- Put eggs in saucepan and fill saucepan with water so the water covering the eggs by about an inch or two - or really just "some" is fine because you have bad depth perception and the water isn't really helping.

9- Turn on heat under saucepan of eggs and water.

10 - Wait 3 minutes.

11- Remember you were supposed to put salt in and so throw some in and watch it gracefully fall to the bottom of the already heated pan where it can sit there uselessly.

12- Go back to watching Top Chef: All Stars, playing on internet, and looking for Boyfriend's missing drill bits (not a euphemism). 

13 - Remember that you are hard boiling eggs.  Run over to stove to see water boiling away happily.  Wig out a bit because you read that the water is only supposed to boil for a minute and take eggs off heat immediately.  Cover the saucepan with lid that is too big for saucepan because this is FAR too stressful a situation to find the correct lid.

14 - Worry a bit about if the water had just started to boil and so maybe you actually took the eggs off too early.  Judge yourself.  Eat some home-made whipped cream straight out of the blender. 

15 - Eat dessert, continue to search for missing drill bits, fold clean clothes that have been in hamper for 6 days, unpack single box and feel incredibly successful.

16 - Remember that you are hard boiling eggs and that you were supposed to take them out of the water 20 minutes ago.  Decide against using the kitchen utensil that is made Specifically for this task and use your hand to drain the water out of the saucepan.  Fill and then drain the saucepan with cold water a few times. 

17 - Realize it takes your cold water almost as long to get cold as it takes your hot water to get hot.  Decide that this is super strange.  Fill and drain a few more times. 

18 - Put eggs in tupperware container.

19 - Decide that eggs are not cool enough and put them back in the saucepan with some (actually) cold water.

20 - Brush teeth, floss, put on pajamas, read book, get into bed, turn out lights.

21- Remember that you still have eggs in a saucepan of cold water on the stove.

22- Ignore Boyfriend's laughs as they follow you down the hall back to (now dark) kitchen. 

23- Take eggs out of saucepan, put back into tupperware and put tupperware of eggs into fridge.  Leave saucepan of water on stove to instill bad habits in cat.  Realize that you thrive with cooking that either requires strict concentration or 5 hours of simmering and you can't really handle anything in between.  Except Pasta, but that doesn't really count.

fancy ketchup

There is very little in the world that feels as satisfying as being all caught up on New Yorkers.

I am assuming this sensation of accomplishment is akin to conquering a small land-locked country or perhaps winning a People's Choice Award.

The past year and a half it has been a struggle to keep on top of this monster.  Back in the day when I was on public transportation a solid 3 - 4 hours of my day, I could finish one in about a day and a half - but once my commute became on foot - I was lucky if I made it through one in a week.  This meant that I no longer read many books because if I was reading a book, I was abandoning my New Yorker responsibility and they start to pile up and you start coming home late and your wife smells like someone else's cologne...its a slippery slope.

Anyway, with my new commute (Still think its okay!) I knew it was a matter of time before I conquered this particular monster.  And I will be real with you, I did not read all the articles.  And I did not read most of the fiction (I am very picky about my New Yorker fiction - for absolutely no reason at all - in case you were wondering).

The problem with stuffing this much knowledge down my retinas is now I have no idea what I am talking about - but I totally think that I do.  In one week I read articles about....a whole bunch of things that I cannot remember right now and I won't be able to remember them until I start talking and getting all confused.  And then there is judgement.

Anyway, I am feeling quite accomplished and like there is nothing I can't do...except maybe get my ass into a gym.

work it.

I've been bad about blogging and I really have very few excuses.  But there have been some interesting things going on.

I went to a fancy black-tie event with my dad.  He got invited by one of his baller business cohorts and I came along for the free food and the excuse to buy a new dress.  Naturally it was very strange to be at a networking event and not networking (and since they were all dentist people, I couldn't even really like fake network because we had no common ground).

I did end up making friends with a girl who was my age who was going to be seated at our table.  She actually is someone my dad should have been networking with, but instead she and I tried to forge a friendship based on the fact that we were some of the youngest people there.  This tickled my Dad to no end, because when I was a kid I always had the ability to make new friends wherever I went.  Only very rarely did they end up being long term friendships, most only had the shelf life of however long we were where we were, but it was an excellent coping mechanism none the less.  And I am sure it is one that has served me well in all of my many relocations.

This was by far the fanciest networking thing I've ever been to (and not been working) and I have to say - these rich people really like to booze it up.

Here's some math for you.

We went to the pre-gala reception which was from 4:45 - 6:15 (we got there around 5:45).  This was drinks and very wee, very weakly passed apps.  Super delicious (fig with gorgonzola wrapped in prosciutto?  Yes please) but not really food.

Then there was cocktail hour round 2 which was from 6:30 - 8.  So, more booze - but this time, no food.  Awesome, feeling good.

Then dinner was supposed to start at 8, but there were many speeches and hands to be shook before we actually started eating but the waiters (bless their hearts) were having a grand old time pouring the wine.  So we started eating at about 8:45.

And at that point, I am already hammer drunk (TM Chelsea Long).

Why?  Because I had been subject to three hours of open bar and I am only human.  Even at pacing myself - that's at least four or five glasses of white wine on (essentially) an empty stomach.  And I MISSED the first hour.  Thank the baby jesus, because other wise, things could have gotten really, really messy.

And it wasn't just me.  My new (and now forgotten) friend also admitted to me that she was a little drunk.  Maybe they expect the networking to take up most of your attention and so the drinking gets forgotten?  No idea - but that plan failed on me being the +1.  Failed.

So of course, once the food got there, I completely forgot how to interact with other humans and ate all of my food as fast as possible, hoping that some of the steak and crab stuffed prawns would soak up the bottle and a half of white wine I had consumed.  (I am the classiest girl you know.)

The rest of the event was fun, I was hella pissed that I got outbid on a pair of earrings I was lusting after during the silent auction.  They used these fancy touch screens where you just put in your bidder number (practically located on your name badge) and you could touch the screen and look at everything.  This technology was far too cool not to utilize, so I bid on the cheapest thing.  This was going well until one of the high roller auction guys outbid me - I think just because he thought I would get into a bidding war over them.  Wrong again, Steve Jones.  Have fun with your Black Onyx drop earrings, sucker.

I did come away with a rather pretty (if poorly set) ring that was gifted to me by another of my father's business pals.  Apparently they were auctioning off this sapphire ring and if you bid you got like a place holder ring to get you all excited for the real one.  He did not win the real ring, and I am afraid that just the site of his faux ring made him remember his terrible luck.  Its cool, I'll take it.

Book 4 - Little Bee

So, I know I'm a little late to this particular party, but just in case I'm not the only one.  Read this book.

I started this book Sunday night and I finished last night around midnight.  Now, I am a pretty fast reader, but 3 days is impressive, even for me.  This is the first book I've read since probably the Hunger Games that has kept me so engrossed.

Its hard to talk about this book without giving everything away.  As I tried to tell Boyfriend last night as I was bawling uncontrollably, "Its about a girl and a lady and their life and its sad."


Anyway - I loved the whole book - cover to cover, despite the crying.  Its wonderful and everyone should read it.  I am curious if Chris Cleave's first book is as good.  Also, I challenge you to read this book and not feel more aware about the world.  What's frustrating is its such a pessimistic awareness.  I don't know if that's what Mr. Cleave was going for, but I woke up this morning with an even heavy heart that usual.  Not only are all the silly minute things wrong in my life, but there is a world out there full of terrible, terrible things that I am completely powerless to stop.  So what do you do?  How do you live with this new awareness?  And how do you get over the fact that it took a novel to open your eyes - as if 26 years here wasn't enough?

Four more years

I think my love of voting stems from watching too much West Wing as a teenager, and assuming that if I voted enough times eventually Jed Bartlett would be president and Allison Janney would be my friend and everything would be perfect.

It hasn't turned out that way - but voting is still one of my most favorite things to do.  Up until this year, I voted absentee in every election, which is fun and convenient, but does not really hold a candle to actual voting.  Which is why I am probably one of the only 26-year olds who gets truly amped to head to my polling place.

And!  In the past four months I've gotten to vote in two different elections!  And they're not your run of the mill elections either, I am responsible for picking the first mayor in approximately 4 billion years who doesn't have the last name Daley.  Apparently, this is huge.  I've only been here for five years, but people say he was mayor when the only constituents were cave people, and his Dad was mayor of the Dinosaurs.  The Dinosaurs!

The last election did not turn out so great - because we apparently live in a country/state where everyone has lost their goddamed mind, or just quit cold turkey on caring about anything.  This was all fun and good in November when I could just be morose about the future, but now the future is here and I am angry.  For a million bajillion reasons, but mostly just - I am angry that people don't realize that they caused this...this funding of what's really important (NASCAR) and this refusal to fund the fluff stuff (Planned Parenthood, NEA, blah blah thing) - wait, strike that.  Reverse it.

Not voting in America is kind of like not drinking in Canada or another ex-British colony (or really anywhere in Europe).  They practically give the booze away when you're, like, a toddler, and you stick your nose up at it?  Wait, what?  Why?  There is really no reason.  "Oh, I'm not drinking because it'll take time out of my busy day of playing on facebook."  "I'm not voting because if I have one ballot I'll have to work out twice this week."

Anyway - so I'm all voted.  And I will be totally honest - I did not have time to make a fully informed and educated choice in my alderman election, which is distressing because its pretty important, but I was busy moving and knew that almost anyone would be an improvement over the current alderman.  So I voted with the person who had the funniest sign in their campaign headquarters window -

back story - there was a rash of window breaking in campaign offices back in the Fall.  I like that this guy had a sense of humor about it.  If nothing else, this ward full of gang violence, mismanagement of public funding, and disaster-crap needs a little humor - and probably more cops (also he kind of looks like Colin Firth).

I do feel like I made the best choice for mayor.  Its distressing to know that the person you're voting for has no chance of winning, but refreshing to vote for someone who has ideals that you agree wholeheartedly with (also - he's the ONLY person running who has not been or is not still a criminal - stay classy Chicago).

But none of it really matters - what matters is I did it.  Its so awesome that we live in a place where you get to vote.  And if you don't think that's true, look at the people all over the world who are fighting for that right, right now.

Book 3 - A Country Called Amreeka

This was a book club book - I wasn't at the meeting where we selected it, so I had no idea what I was getting into when I started it.

 

image via

I felt pretty embarrassed as I read this book that I no real working knowledge of the modern day Middle East conflict.  But now I feel incredibly educated and with that education comes sadness at the overwhelming nature of it all.  But the book was an interesting read - if not necessarily written in a style that I liked. The author would build up each short story to a important historical climax and then stop.  While I understand the method - I feel like for a non-fiction book that is trying to share information, there should have been more about what happened to these characters after these big, life changing events.

Also the stories had a lot of exposition at the beginning which makes sense, as she's writing for an audience that is unfamiliar with the subject, but it made it super hard to slug through the first three pages of each story.

I recommend this solely on the fact that this is an important subject matter, and I feel that if you live in America and are not searching out to discover both sides of the story then you really have no idea what is going on. 

thank you

I've become obsessed with looking at the stats of my blogger because I am incredibly self-involved and I need mathematical proof that people are reading this crap.

Anyway - one of the things that you can discover is what people google searched that lead you to this.  Most of it is pretty obvious, but one person - one faithful person got here by searching "beautiful fijian women."

To that person I would like to say thank you - for clicking on this link, realizing your tragic mistake, and then not hate-mailing me to tell me how disappointed you were at the total and complete lack of hot fijian ladies up in this piece.

coat crisis

On my first day living in Chicago - it hailed.  Pearl-sized snow bombs fell from the sky and I wondered if perhaps this was some sort of epic sign of what was to come.  Naturally, I ignored it - but what I did not ignore was the fact that I was in the midst of a fashion crisis.

After spending all of my years on the East Coast - I was completely unprepared for how to dress in a midwestern Winter.  Scarves as a necessary rather than trendy fashion accessory?  Uggs are not snow boots? (No, they are not).  And mostly - a real winter coat?

I've always despised coats because they're bulky and I have to not lose them and in general they indicate cold weather and miserableness.  If I have to put on a coat to go outside, I'd much rather just stay inside if its all the same to you.

When I was a kid my mom bought be a beautiful cranberry-colored full length coat from LL Bean.  And, because I was a moron, I hated it.  Because it wasn't an Adidas coat.  And you went Adidas or you were shunned by the girls in my home town.  So I avoided wearing it - prefering to be cold and miserable rather than unfashionable.  How I wish that coat still existed because I would wear it every single day. Sorry, Mom.

And so I've had these crappy coats that did the job in New York winters (including, finally, an Adidas coat did not bring me the riches, popularity and attention from boys that I had stupidly anticipated). But when I moved to Chicago - I knew something was going to have to change.

At first I really wanted a North Face, because all the girls had them.  But my Mom (who was there with me on that first day) convinced me that the red-headed stepchild Michael Kors coat was equally as cute and about $300 less expensive.  So I listened to her (finally) and got the Michael Kors coat - and it has been with me every terrible winter day since then.

So now, in the February of my fifth Chicago Winter - my beautiful coat has a malfunctioning zipper.  Its doing that super annoying thing where sometimes it works totally fine, and sometimes it starts to zip but then gives up like four inches later, and sometimes it doesn't even put on its cleats. 

This is not a real crisis in that I have a variety of totally rational options available to me - but I am sad to know that the coat that got me through my absolute worst days might not be around much longer.  Its a reminder that this is my home now.  Crappy winters and all.

in my step

I owe the universe a blog.  But I don't have one.  So instead you get this:

Saturday was the first day I've worn anything but boots outside in the past three months.  It was a little soggy, but so glorious.  Spring is coming.

From this angle you would totally think I'm a hipster, but I'm not.  I just look like one from the knees down.

Also there is something so satisfying about muddy Converse.  When they're clean it just looks like you're a poser, but if you purposely try to get them dirty then you're trying too hard.

Grandpa

Today is my Grandpa's 80th birthday.

For some reason I thought his birthday was February 19.  But it isn't.  It's February 9.  Its okay though.  I don't think he would have minded if I got it wrong.  Especially if I got it wrong every year.  In fact, he would probably find it funnier that I am so insistent that his birthday was the 19th, then he would be offended that his own granddaughter doesn't know his birthday.

Grandpa wasn't big for celebrating birthdays anyway.  The cakes and the presents and the singing - they were for us.  If it was up to him he would have spent every birthday alone in his truck driving down two lane alternate highway routes.  But Grandpa loved us more than he loved himself, and that was the amazing thing about him.  He was surrounded by all these women who wanted to celebrate him.  These women who worshiped him.  And so he celebrated because he loved how happy it made everyone else.

For some reason, when I imagine Grandpa and his four daughters they're all wearing swirling full-skirted dresses out of the 1800's.  I have no idea why, since they were a bunch of hippie/cowboy/beachbums but its a lovely image that I can't really get away from.

Grandpa would laugh at me for writing this blog at 11:30 at night.  He would have told me to go to bed.  He'll still be 80 tomorrow and then I'll have had a good night sleep and can celebrate him properly.  Or at least, that's what I think he would have said - thinking of my adult relationship with him is something I can't really wrap my brain around.  Its too sacred and sad to think about for too long.

I think one of the reasons I love Boyfriend as much as I do is because there are these flashes of Grandpa I see in him, this silent stoicism in the face of an overload of very noisy estrogen.  This dry humor sliced paper thin, so subtle that you almost don't notice it.  This terrible singing voice.  Naturally, this makes me Granny.  Which is a little hard to swallow, and yet - exactly right.  A love that defies the laws of just about everything. 

 

When I was a kid, I was pretty sure Grandpa knew all the secrets to the universe and that we were all so busy running around we never got around to asking him about it.  But even if we had, he probably would have shrugged and said, "ask your Grandmother, she knows everything."

Book 2 - Pride and Prejudice

Can you believe I've never read this?  Can you believe that this is the first Austen book I got through?

 image via

Yeah - me neither.  I picked up P&P and Emma a few times during my childhood and could never slug my way through the language long enough to enjoy the story.  But now that I am older and infinitely more patient (...maybe).  I did it.  And it was totally worth it.

This book gave me heart palpitations.

I must say - it probably did not hurt anything to have already seen the Keira Knightley-movie-version of this book.  I thought it was meh (well, I did not like Keira Knightley OR Jena Malone but everyone else was lovely). I also saw the Wishbone version back in the day, so occasionally I would imagine Darcy as a Jack Russell Terrier which was great (also that TV show was awesome and should come back because it probably gave me a more solid foundation in classical literature than any English class).  And they gave me at least the foundation to know where the story is going.  And before you ask, yes, I have the BBC version at my house.  I am waiting for a particularly vicious bout of the flu or a broken leg or something to give me an excuse to lie on my couch and watch the whole thing end to end. 

Anyway, the book!  The book!  It took me a while because it is not a good read before sleeping book - as it makes me fall asleep.  The Austenien language is nothing if not soothing and melodic, not unlike a lullaby but when I did read it, I enjoyed every moment.  And there was some squealing.  I mean, there are parts of this book that are every young girls dream (I am not going to give away what happens - because I don't want this blog to be a cheat for some punk kid not interested in reading the book and just looking for a plot synopsis.  Do your homework).

Also, I don't know if you know this, but this book was written about my maternal grandmother, Granny.  I do not think I am kidding.  I am pretty sure Granny was the mold for Mrs. Bennett (I'll let my mother and aunts fight over who gets to be Elizabeth and who is stuck being Mary).  How the crazy things that she said sounded like things that could have come from Granny - how ones behavior so eerily mimics the other.  And how desperately they are just trying to do what is right by their daughters in their own crazy head.

It helps that Mr. Bennett also resembles my grandfather.  In both spirit and daily practice.  Not everyone gets a Jane Austen book written about her beloved grandparents.  The comparison ends there - as none of my aunts/mother really embodies any of the daughters (my mother is livid right now - insisting that she does too embody the character of Lizzy.  Sorry Mom). 

Anyway - it was delightful.  And when it did get slow, I pushed through knowing that good things would happen.  I am excited to wait a few books - and then pick up the next one.

Other things I like:
-Lady Catherine de Bourgh.  Oh man.  So much crazy in such a big lady.  This is obviously the part that I would want to play.  I bet you get to wear some sweet hats.
-Descriptions of "the grounds" - I dig large houses with gardens.
-Now that I have read the whole thing I can buy things from this Etsy store without feeling like a poser.
-Dudes that brood.  Mmm.  Brooding.

image via

snotography

For real this time (at least until my camera ran out of batteries).

snovision

Here are the pictures I took with my super crappy cell phone (when I am going to learn that I need to use my actual camera for things??) of our snow.  I am much to lazy to go outside - but you can catch the general drift (hehehe, drift).

Out our front windows.  Some background info - we live on two fairly major streets in the some-what North part of the city.  When we first woke up they were both plowed pretty well - and then it started snowing again and I guess they gave up.

Same view - but here you can see the bus stop shelter (bottom right corner).  Last night a Ford Escape-esque Cab ran into the side wall (the skinny side) and totally shattered it.  When I walked past there was glass ALL over the sidewalk and the teenage passengers and cab driver were trying to push it out of the snow bank.  It was a total disaster and I just walked away (since I was completely frozen and very close to being home).  Now I am terrified that if there are people walking around out there they are going to slice open their feet on glass that is now buried under about a foot of snow.  I have tried calling 311 but its been busy every time (no huge surprise there).

And then I was going to take a picture of our back deck but when I opened the back door there was a surprise.  Snow INSIDE the apartment!  Not enough inside that I am going to do anything about it - but just enough inside that I am not planning to go out any time soon.  Also the entire top of the screen door is covered in snow so you can't really see much anyway.

I plan to spend the rest of my snow day inside.  Boyfriend and I are working at our wee little kitchen table that we never use because it was easier to drag close to the fire than our huge dining room table.  We're both in our jammies sipping tea and being quiet.  Just enjoying our very, very lackadaisical snow adventure.

snomg

Okay Chicago.  I am calling uncle.

I spend a lot of time giving East Coasters a hard time about being such weenies in the snow.  As if the universe hasn't been dropping dump truck loads of snow on the East Coast for the past hundreds of years.  You would think that maybe, at some point, you would buy a plow or two.

Chicago, though, Chicago defies the snow.  It laughs in the face of snow.  It plays the game, "let me tell you about yourself," with the snow.  And for the most part I agree with this philosophy (if you don't like snow, why would you live here?  And further more - why do you think you can complain about it? You knew it was coming).

But there is a time and a place for everything.  And this was the time AND the place for recognizing that you are really no match for Mother Nature.

While I do give the East Coast a ton of crap, I also have to give them credit - they cancel business.  They know that you shouldn't drive in the snow and so they will tell you not to.  And then you will drink hot cocoa and stay in your jammies - and it is quite simply glorious. 

Right now - Chicago is in the middle of a snowstorm that EVERYONE said was coming.  Everyone has been talking about it for days and I know that there have been occasions where these storms do not live up to their hype BUT when the storm has already started other places there is a pretty good chance that it is going to happen.  Like, you don't bet the house but you take into account that if you stubbornly decide to pretend like everything is fine, there is a very real chance that things are going to go poorly.

CPS - You cannot decide to cancel something an hour and a half before its going to happen.  Especially when you are the third largest school district in the country.  Why?  Because you can't call all those people that make you the third largest in an hour and a half.  So what happens is that people who shouldn't have had to go out in the first place are stuck going out because the schools are like, "I know its supposed to be canceled by the parents are expecting them to be here and we can't call all the parents and we can't pay the teachers to stay here any longer and we're paying you any way EEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeee, sorry." 


And its not just CPS - there are other schools that were like "We Are Having Programming No Matter What."  Oh - okay, so are you going to pay people for the additional 3 hours it takes them to get home?  Rules are rules, but when your rules put lives in danger - then guess what?  they're bad rules.  No two ways around it.

Today was pure awful - for the most part because I spent nearly the whole day Waiting to find out if I had a snow day tomorrow (I do - thank the thing high atop the whatever).

And there people in Chicago who are STILL saying, "Its not that bad out."

Guess what - you're wrong and you're kind of crazy.  It is that bad out. There are things flying off the roof of Wrigley Field.  There are 25 ft. waves in Lake Michigan.  YOU CAN'T SEE.  Literally - you cannot see because of the snow and the wind and your own misery blocking your view. It is that bad.

McKim: It is a blizzard.
              Stop trying to be a hero, Chicago


me:        seriously
              Seriously