I'm sitting at my table overlooking my balcony and the street down below, waiting for snow to start. It's in the forecast today, but I'm still skeptical, considering the decided lack of winter weather we've experienced this year. So far, the temperature is hovering around 39, which means that all we're getting is really cold rain... I MUCH prefer snow to cold rain -- for some reason, 40 degrees and rainy feels about a hundred times more cold and miserable than 30 degrees and snowy.
I just watched a woman with a stroller standing on the corner waiting for the light to change so she could cross the street. She had the stroller halfway off the sidewalk and hanging in the intersection. Hmmm... seems like that's putting an awful lot of faith in the strangers driving their two-ton vehicles around your baby. Maybe I'm just super cautious and totally distrustful, but I don't think I'd let a stroller get anywhere near a street until I was certain everything around me had stopped moving... then again, I AM pretty paranoid...
Rick is returning from a ten-day trip to San Francisco today, where he attended a "boot camp" for his new job. I was trying to think of the last time I'd spent ten days alone, and honestly, I'm not sure I've EVER spent ten days alone. But I definitely don't have a problem with it... I could probably move to Nepal and take up residence in a monastery, where I would take a vow a silence and solitude and hang out with lots of cats. Which is pretty much what I've been doing for the last ten days... minus the Nepal part, of course.
When I turned my TV on this morning, I accidentally hit the channel button, which switched the channel over to Spanish-language Telemundo. A normal person would've immediately looked for something else, but I actually KEPT it on Telemundo for a good half hour and watched some kind of weird, dramatic soap opera. And I don't speak Spanish. But I DO find foreign languages fascinating to listen to, so I'll actually sit and listen with rapt attention to languages I don't understand, completely convinced that if I listen long enough, something will start to make sense. (This is a fact that drives Rick insane, especially if we're in a hotel and I find the Japanese game show channels. I watch as long as I can, until Rick, usually sitting at his computer, begins pleading, "change it, change it, CHANGE IT." It's sort of hilarious... :))
For the first time since we moved to Chicago, I actually have all THREE of my living room lamps arranged, plugged in, and ready to light the room. When we first moved up here, we could only find two of the lamps -- our movers really strangely configured our stuff when they packed it all up, so although two of the lamps were logically found in "living room" boxes, one of them was nowhere to be found. We eventually found it over at our storage facility, when we were rummaging through random boxes -- I can't remember where we finally found it, but I think it was in a "garage" or "workout room" box. And then when we moved into this place, I couldn't find a good place for all three lamps, so one of them has just been sitting idle on my desk. But now that we've had the adventure of acquiring our new TV and set it up in a new space in the living room, some area has been freed up for lamps. And it makes me weirdly happy to see all three of them burning brightly at the same time...
And now I'm off to find something for lunch and to wait for snow... I shall remain skeptical until I see it...
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Monday, January 21, 2013
Photo randomness...
Every now and then I find myself flipping through the pictures I have in my phone, trying to decide whether or not to keep them or delete them. I also wonder: how did I get SO many pictures on my phone?? And do you suppose that someday, cameras will be obsolete? Will we all just document our lives with the cameras on our phones, instead of good-quality CAMERA cameras? (Or will phone cameras eventually reach the level of quality found in real cameras? I mean, it makes sense, right? Computers used to be the size of entire rooms... and now we fit them into the palms of our hands...)
That whole paragraph of curiosity was for the sole purpose of introducing these -- a bunch of pictures I recently took with my camera:
Oh Christmas cookies, how I miss you...
Piva checking out the twenty snowflakes that have fallen this year...
My new favorite purple mug from Caribou Coffee. Faisal bought the same mug (actually, he bought like four of them because they were a really good deal -- they were marked down from ten or twelve dollars to only three or four...), and made the observation that because the mouth of the mug is so wide, hot beverages cool down quickly. Which is true... but I tend to reheat my beverages in the microwave about fifteen times before I manage to drink an entire cup. Sometimes I'll take a sip, and then forget about it for a half hour... and then suddenly I'll realize, "hey, I still have an entire cup of coffee!" So the quickly cooling properties don't bother me much... and anyway, coffee tastes better in a purple mug. Don't question me, it just does.
Can someone tell me what's going on here? Seriously, this is the second time I've noticed a long line of people standing on the street across from my condo building -- and I have yet to figure out what they were all waiting for. There are no movie theaters, no sports arenas, no museums... the building they're standing in front of houses an eye doctor, a hairstylist, and a custom suit shop... and I just don't think all of these people are in desperate need of new suits. Next time I see something like this, I'm going down to stand in line, too... just so I can see where I end up.
I have a LOT of Riff pictures on my phone... he's just always doing things that make me laugh. Like searching for a lost treat under the fridge...
Or hiding behind the coffeemaker...
Or taking his place as Kitty Overlord on top of the fridge and gazing down upon his human underlings...
Okay, I'm off to make some tea and huddle under a blanket to counteract the effects of tonight's 7-degree weather... hope everyone is having a good week!
That whole paragraph of curiosity was for the sole purpose of introducing these -- a bunch of pictures I recently took with my camera:
Okay, I'm off to make some tea and huddle under a blanket to counteract the effects of tonight's 7-degree weather... hope everyone is having a good week!
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Yum...
Every year, it's the same -- I feel really sad right after Christmas when I'm packing away all my decorations, but then I'll look at the calendar one day, and all of a sudden we're already halfway through January. And I realize: the year is once again moving waaaaay too quickly. (I really need to stop feeling down after Christmas -- I don't want the next one to arrive before I have a chance to enjoy the rest of the year...) All of that was to say -- it's January 15th already??
Anyway, moving on from my "time moves too quickly" incredulity... So last week, after years (literally YEARS) of arm-twisting, I finally agreed that Rick and I should have dinner with Faisal at a Pakistani restaurant on Devon Ave., which is the location of Chicago's "Little India" neighborhood. (Okay, perhaps *I* wasn't the one who needed a good arm-twist... the reluctant holdout shall remain nameless... RICKRICKRICK. What? I felt like typing Rick's name in obvious capital letters just for the fun of it... :)) There was some discussion as to what the difference is between Indian food and Pakistani food -- I think the conclusion was "not much," although the Pakistani place did have brain on the menu. (No, I didn't try it... and no, I never will... although if I WERE inclined to eat brain, I think it would definitely be best surrounded by delicious spicy sauce...)
Faisal was a bit apprehensive about finally taking us to this place, since he'd repeatedly extolled the delicious virtues of not only this particular restaurant, but others on Devon Ave., many times when asking us to join him... so in my mind, at least, it was understood to be this completely awesome dining experience. I was seriously excited to try it. Like jumping-up-and-down-in-my-bathroom-while-I-was-getting-ready excited to try it. And lucky for Faisal, it WAS awesome. Any place that knows how to cook chicken until it's absolutely-perfect-fall-apart-tender -- and dark meat chicken, at that, which I normally don't even eat -- is on my "must visit again" list. As Faisal said -- his peeps really know what they're doing. :)
And by the way, Faisal -- THANK YOU for continually asking us to join you, even though it took SOMEONE in this house five thousand years to agree. I won't say who... RICKRICKRICK... What??? Really, I just like typing Rick's name... :) (Rick is probably now plotting my demise... or at least plotting a way to keep me far away from all Indian and/or Pakistani food for the rest of my life...)
Anyway, as I was saying -- the food at this place was awesome, and I want to go back, like, yesterday. We were all completely stuffed after dinner, but Faisal wanted to stop at a place to pick up some desserts to take home. And since I'm never one to pass up an opportunity to try a new dessert, I went into the shop and tried a sweet, sticky, square-shaped thing (which is what I kept calling it until I did some Google research to come up with the proper name -- burfi). After my huge dinner, the burfi was "good," but I could barely fit it into my quite-satisfied stomach -- nevertheless, I decided to take some home with me. The next day, with an empty stomach and a craving for something sweet, I sliced off a little piece of it and took a bite. Suddenly, I heard the singing of a thousand angels and a bright heavenly light shone from above down upon the sweet square of delightful ambrosia before me. Okay, maybe that's a SLIGHT exaggeration -- but holy sugar rush... if marzipan and fudge met up with cardamom (maybe?) and sweetened condensed milk (maybe??), this is the crazy delicious baby they would have. Seriously, I don't even know what's in this stuff (except sugar... I'm fairly certain there was sugar), but it will haunt my dreams...
This whole experience made me start thinking about foods from my own ethnic background, and how many of them I like (or hate). As an American mutt, my various ancestors are mostly from Sweden, England, France and Germany. Swedish food is out -- I'm sorry Sweden... I love you for my last name and my affinity for cold weather (although I can't say I'm always happy with my arctic-circle-chic skin tone... but whatever), but your food leaves something to be desired. I know some people love Swedish meatballs and pickled herring, but I just... can't. Although I admit to knowing very little about Swedish desserts... I should look into that...
I'm also not all that well-acquainted with English food, although I've really grown to love the fish and chips place we frequent just about every week. Not for the fish and chips, of course... but the rest of their food is good, too. Whether or not it's quintessentially English food, however, I'm not really sure. But my mom and I used to have lunch at an English tea room back in New Jersey that served the BEST scones with clotted cream -- I'm glad it was a bit of a drive from our house, because I could've eaten those things every day...
French food? Well, I do love a good chicken fricassee... and French croissants, I'm fairly certain, win the award for "best use of obscene amounts of butter in a pastry." Which means they taste amazing, of course. (You never heard Julia Child say, "you know what this dish needs? Less butter...")
But I think of all the countries of my vague origin, I am most familiar with German food -- this, no doubt, is because of my years of studying German in high school and all of our various field trips to restaurants, cultural centers, etc. Not to mention the fact that family members who knew I loved my German classes gave me German cookbooks for Christmas and birthdays. And while the Germans are a bit too in love with their wurst (which violates my "no ground up meat" rule), I do love a nicely prepared Sauerbraten, and I could pretty much eat my weight in Spätzle. Black Forest cake is one of my favorite desserts (I love chocolate and cherries), and Sacher Torte and spritz cookies are quite good, as well. And Germans are no strangers to good chocolate, either.
And now that I've written this entire post, I'm starving... sooooo... anyone for Italian? :)
Anyway, moving on from my "time moves too quickly" incredulity... So last week, after years (literally YEARS) of arm-twisting, I finally agreed that Rick and I should have dinner with Faisal at a Pakistani restaurant on Devon Ave., which is the location of Chicago's "Little India" neighborhood. (Okay, perhaps *I* wasn't the one who needed a good arm-twist... the reluctant holdout shall remain nameless... RICKRICKRICK. What? I felt like typing Rick's name in obvious capital letters just for the fun of it... :)) There was some discussion as to what the difference is between Indian food and Pakistani food -- I think the conclusion was "not much," although the Pakistani place did have brain on the menu. (No, I didn't try it... and no, I never will... although if I WERE inclined to eat brain, I think it would definitely be best surrounded by delicious spicy sauce...)
Faisal was a bit apprehensive about finally taking us to this place, since he'd repeatedly extolled the delicious virtues of not only this particular restaurant, but others on Devon Ave., many times when asking us to join him... so in my mind, at least, it was understood to be this completely awesome dining experience. I was seriously excited to try it. Like jumping-up-and-down-in-my-bathroom-while-I-was-getting-ready excited to try it. And lucky for Faisal, it WAS awesome. Any place that knows how to cook chicken until it's absolutely-perfect-fall-apart-tender -- and dark meat chicken, at that, which I normally don't even eat -- is on my "must visit again" list. As Faisal said -- his peeps really know what they're doing. :)
And by the way, Faisal -- THANK YOU for continually asking us to join you, even though it took SOMEONE in this house five thousand years to agree. I won't say who... RICKRICKRICK... What??? Really, I just like typing Rick's name... :) (Rick is probably now plotting my demise... or at least plotting a way to keep me far away from all Indian and/or Pakistani food for the rest of my life...)
Anyway, as I was saying -- the food at this place was awesome, and I want to go back, like, yesterday. We were all completely stuffed after dinner, but Faisal wanted to stop at a place to pick up some desserts to take home. And since I'm never one to pass up an opportunity to try a new dessert, I went into the shop and tried a sweet, sticky, square-shaped thing (which is what I kept calling it until I did some Google research to come up with the proper name -- burfi). After my huge dinner, the burfi was "good," but I could barely fit it into my quite-satisfied stomach -- nevertheless, I decided to take some home with me. The next day, with an empty stomach and a craving for something sweet, I sliced off a little piece of it and took a bite. Suddenly, I heard the singing of a thousand angels and a bright heavenly light shone from above down upon the sweet square of delightful ambrosia before me. Okay, maybe that's a SLIGHT exaggeration -- but holy sugar rush... if marzipan and fudge met up with cardamom (maybe?) and sweetened condensed milk (maybe??), this is the crazy delicious baby they would have. Seriously, I don't even know what's in this stuff (except sugar... I'm fairly certain there was sugar), but it will haunt my dreams...
This whole experience made me start thinking about foods from my own ethnic background, and how many of them I like (or hate). As an American mutt, my various ancestors are mostly from Sweden, England, France and Germany. Swedish food is out -- I'm sorry Sweden... I love you for my last name and my affinity for cold weather (although I can't say I'm always happy with my arctic-circle-chic skin tone... but whatever), but your food leaves something to be desired. I know some people love Swedish meatballs and pickled herring, but I just... can't. Although I admit to knowing very little about Swedish desserts... I should look into that...
I'm also not all that well-acquainted with English food, although I've really grown to love the fish and chips place we frequent just about every week. Not for the fish and chips, of course... but the rest of their food is good, too. Whether or not it's quintessentially English food, however, I'm not really sure. But my mom and I used to have lunch at an English tea room back in New Jersey that served the BEST scones with clotted cream -- I'm glad it was a bit of a drive from our house, because I could've eaten those things every day...
French food? Well, I do love a good chicken fricassee... and French croissants, I'm fairly certain, win the award for "best use of obscene amounts of butter in a pastry." Which means they taste amazing, of course. (You never heard Julia Child say, "you know what this dish needs? Less butter...")
But I think of all the countries of my vague origin, I am most familiar with German food -- this, no doubt, is because of my years of studying German in high school and all of our various field trips to restaurants, cultural centers, etc. Not to mention the fact that family members who knew I loved my German classes gave me German cookbooks for Christmas and birthdays. And while the Germans are a bit too in love with their wurst (which violates my "no ground up meat" rule), I do love a nicely prepared Sauerbraten, and I could pretty much eat my weight in Spätzle. Black Forest cake is one of my favorite desserts (I love chocolate and cherries), and Sacher Torte and spritz cookies are quite good, as well. And Germans are no strangers to good chocolate, either.
And now that I've written this entire post, I'm starving... sooooo... anyone for Italian? :)
Tuesday, January 08, 2013
Happy 2013 randomness...
1. Happy New Year! (Okay, I'm a little late with my new year wishes, but at least it's still January...)
2. I was super wild and crazy and did absolutely nothing on New Year's Eve. Just watched some TV, read a couple chapters of a book, and then stood at my window until I saw the reflections of the Navy Pier fireworks on a building down the block -- that's how I knew it was officially 2013, and therefore, I could immediately retire to bed. I always worry about noise on New Year's Eve, because even when we lived in the quiet Austin suburbs, people were always setting off fireworks for hours after midnight. But when midnight hit here in downtown Chicago, I was surprised by how quiet it was. I fell asleep right away, happy that none of our neighbors were hosting noisy parties. And then, around 2:00 in the morning, I woke up and gradually became aware of murmurings and engine noise and an occasional siren outside... so I got up and walked to the balcony windows to see what was going on. Apparently, 2 a.m. is about the time New Year's Eve parties start to break up, and EVERYONE heads home at the same time. The streets were crowded with people attempting to hail cabs (thank you for not driving, drunk people), which proved to be quite the feat, because every cab that passed was already in use. I've also never seen so many limos driving around at the same time -- I guess renting limos is also a New Year's Eve thing?? And because of all the traffic on the streets, emergency vehicles (which usually silently traverse the neighborhood at night, because the streets are pretty empty) were forced to use their sirens. So my nice quiet new year temporarily became a cacophony of party-goers...
3. I have, over the last few weeks, managed to smack my legs right into the corner of my bed on BOTH sides... so I now have matching bruises on both of my shins. Seriously, WHY did my parents not bestow upon me the middle name of "Grace"? Because clearly I am full of a lilting elegance, the likes of which is rarely found outside the realm of ballet dancing or Cirque du Soleil...
4. I'm losing hope that Chicago will get any decent snow this year. We've had a few random snow showers, where flakes will swirl around in the air for a couple hours but absolutely nothing accumulates. And seeing as temperatures are supposed to be in the 50s (and maybe even 60s???) this weekend, I'm guessing snow won't be in the forecast again for a while...
5. I never make new year's resolutions (with the exception of resolving to NOT write the wrong year when I write the date... you get so used to writing the previous year that it becomes habit. So I resolve to only write "2013" this year. I'm so ambitious.), but I suppose I should have some kind of goals for the new year. Like maybe getting the condo into better shape -- I've been meaning to buy some artwork for the walls since we moved in... I really ought to do that eventually. Perhaps I should even resolve to write more blog posts... :)
Hope everyone has had a great first week of 2013!
2. I was super wild and crazy and did absolutely nothing on New Year's Eve. Just watched some TV, read a couple chapters of a book, and then stood at my window until I saw the reflections of the Navy Pier fireworks on a building down the block -- that's how I knew it was officially 2013, and therefore, I could immediately retire to bed. I always worry about noise on New Year's Eve, because even when we lived in the quiet Austin suburbs, people were always setting off fireworks for hours after midnight. But when midnight hit here in downtown Chicago, I was surprised by how quiet it was. I fell asleep right away, happy that none of our neighbors were hosting noisy parties. And then, around 2:00 in the morning, I woke up and gradually became aware of murmurings and engine noise and an occasional siren outside... so I got up and walked to the balcony windows to see what was going on. Apparently, 2 a.m. is about the time New Year's Eve parties start to break up, and EVERYONE heads home at the same time. The streets were crowded with people attempting to hail cabs (thank you for not driving, drunk people), which proved to be quite the feat, because every cab that passed was already in use. I've also never seen so many limos driving around at the same time -- I guess renting limos is also a New Year's Eve thing?? And because of all the traffic on the streets, emergency vehicles (which usually silently traverse the neighborhood at night, because the streets are pretty empty) were forced to use their sirens. So my nice quiet new year temporarily became a cacophony of party-goers...
3. I have, over the last few weeks, managed to smack my legs right into the corner of my bed on BOTH sides... so I now have matching bruises on both of my shins. Seriously, WHY did my parents not bestow upon me the middle name of "Grace"? Because clearly I am full of a lilting elegance, the likes of which is rarely found outside the realm of ballet dancing or Cirque du Soleil...
4. I'm losing hope that Chicago will get any decent snow this year. We've had a few random snow showers, where flakes will swirl around in the air for a couple hours but absolutely nothing accumulates. And seeing as temperatures are supposed to be in the 50s (and maybe even 60s???) this weekend, I'm guessing snow won't be in the forecast again for a while...
5. I never make new year's resolutions (with the exception of resolving to NOT write the wrong year when I write the date... you get so used to writing the previous year that it becomes habit. So I resolve to only write "2013" this year. I'm so ambitious.), but I suppose I should have some kind of goals for the new year. Like maybe getting the condo into better shape -- I've been meaning to buy some artwork for the walls since we moved in... I really ought to do that eventually. Perhaps I should even resolve to write more blog posts... :)
Hope everyone has had a great first week of 2013!
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