Is it just in Alabama that you can get postage stamps from your ATM? That's incredibly convenient, but I haven't seen it here - at least at my bank.
Lunch errands - only 3 simple errands that shouldn't take long at all. Make a deposit, get some stamps, and some lunch to take back to the office. No worries.
First stop; the bank. I'm quite accustomed to long drive-thru lines at the bank in Huntsville. Redstone is notorious for slow drive-thru service because they'll have one teller for 3 or 4 lanes. Here, I bank at Chase. They have lots of branches, and they offered me $100 to open a checking account. Well, I'm no fool - free money and convenience all in one? I'm in!
I pull up to the drive through and luckily (I thought) there were only 2 cars, one in each lane. I watched for who I thought would be out first, and saw a tube making it's way down to one of the cars. I pulled up behind it, and after some back-and-forth between the driver and the teller, realized he was not quite finished. The other car then received their tube, only to stuff something else in it and send it back. Hmmm. I waited. Eventually the first driver got the tube back again. Finally!!! My turn!! Oops, he's sending it back. Same with the other guy. What the heck (I'm censoring)!!!!
This went on for 10 or so minutes before I decided enough - I'll go inside. Inside there were no lines, and there was one lonely teller that got her "can I help you??" out before I barely made it through the door. 2 minutes tops and I was out and back on the road. Lesson learned. Oh, I asked the teller if the ATM had postage stamps. She looked at me with a "oh you poor thing" expression and sweetly said "No ma'am, but you can get them at the POST OFFICE across the street...". Maybe it's a southern thing. Or a Redstone thing.
Portillos a block away, home of some pretty doggone good italian beef and pretty quick service, too. This time there weren't 2 cars to wait on...the drive-thru line stretched around the building and out into North Avenue, causing all kinds of problems for people trying to get in or out of the parking lot. Still, it was moving pretty quickly, and I determined the sandwich was worth it, so I made my way into the line and out again a few minutes later with my #4 with iced tea and hot peppers in hand. Ahhhh...someone is going to have to introduce Huntsville to italian beef.
Last stop - Post Office, where evidently I can get postage stamps according to the nice teller. Of course they have no drive-thru (but isn't that a nifty idea??) so I have no choice but to go in. They had no vending machine for stamps either, so another line. Complete with tiny Latino children wreaking havoc all over the PO. And two postal workers who looked ready to go postal. At least the wait was not long and I could get back to my desk and my Portillos. All in all, it took an hour to run my three simple errands and get back to my desk. None of this was more than 2-3 miles from the office, so it left me wondering how it took that long.
I can be a fairly patient person, and my blood pressure no longer shoots up into record levels when I have to wait. I've learned that it is what it is and getting upset is not going to make things go faster or make people less...frustrating. But it does seem to help sometimes to let an expletive fly (roll the windows up first) or to bang the steering wheel. Then all the world is well again and I'm at peace with the gods of patience and kindness. As long as the idiots get out of my way.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Random thoughts....
What was the Saturday Nite Live character's name? That did "random thoughts...by ??". Big prize to the first to remember. :)
Had to share these while I be thinkin' on 'em.
There are 3 signs I see every morning on my way to work. All three are within a mile or so of the plant, which somehow makes that last mile of my drive to work a little easier.
The first sign is a very old, very large neon sign and lettering that reads (no joke) "Self Service DRUGS & LIQUOR". One of these days.... yep.
The 2nd is a billboard that reads, in very large letters, "YOUR WIFE IS HOT", and in very small letters underneath "time to get your AC fixed".
The 3rd is advertising property for lease on a new building - "Bill Goodwillie, Inc". I've been looking all my life for a Goodwillie. Now I've found one. If I can just remember to jot down the number.
Had to share these while I be thinkin' on 'em.
There are 3 signs I see every morning on my way to work. All three are within a mile or so of the plant, which somehow makes that last mile of my drive to work a little easier.
The first sign is a very old, very large neon sign and lettering that reads (no joke) "Self Service DRUGS & LIQUOR". One of these days.... yep.
The 2nd is a billboard that reads, in very large letters, "YOUR WIFE IS HOT", and in very small letters underneath "time to get your AC fixed".
The 3rd is advertising property for lease on a new building - "Bill Goodwillie, Inc". I've been looking all my life for a Goodwillie. Now I've found one. If I can just remember to jot down the number.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Traffic (and I don't mean the band)
Okay, let's talk traffic. I think I've mentioned before that there were 2 things that people would say when I told them I was moving to Chicago; the first was always "do you know how cold it is there???" and the second was "oh, my....the TRAFFIC!!!". Even now, people here will ask me "so, how are you adjusting to the traffic??". What is the big deal about traffic?
Honey, I've driven in Atlanta, which is much, much worse than here. At least to my memory, but maybe I was just less tolerant in my younger days. And I will admit that I'm generally going the direction of the lesser traffic. I can see that it's heavier coming into the city in the morning, and heading to the 'burbs in the evening. But even on Sunday morning the traffic on the interstate is pretty thick. And at 3 a.m. the traffic in town is surprisingly heavy. But there's just so many people here with things to do and places to be, and in spite of a good transit system, we like the freedom that having your own car brings. Frankly, I'm not so sure that driving to Wrigleyville on a game day would be any worse that cramming into the train with a bunch of sweaty fans. :)
But the traffic....yes it's heavy, and yes, there are crazy drivers just like anywhere, and there are people who's signals don't seem to work (I always want to stop that guy in the $80k car and say "you know, for that price it looks like they'd include turn signals, doesn't it?"), and there are people who are just rude or not paying attention, like anywhere. But for the most part, people seem to just accept that it's going to be like this, and there's nothing you can do about it, and you may as well just go with the flow. I've only rarely encountered someone that would not let me into a lane, or that insisted on riding my bumper even though I was closer than I liked to the car in front of me. And rarely have I seen the idiot that flies in and out of lanes like their trunk in on fire and they're trying to out run it. Hard to do when all lanes are packed and everyone is going 40.
One thing that contributes is that half the lanes on most of the interstates are closed for "summer repaving". It's something they do here because the "winter salting" causes so much damage to the road. I guess if I want clear roads in the winter, I have to deal with fewer lanes in the summer. And while I'm thinking of it, the interstates here are not interstates. At home we say I-65 or I-24 or even just 565 or 75 or 20, without the I in front. Here, they're "Expressways". Sounds fancy, and fast, even though they're neither. It's the "Eisenhower Expressway", or the Dan Ryan (who??) or the Kennedy. And exits are labeled things like "To The Western Suburbs", as though "I-290 West" wouldn't be good enough.
Traffic is not just heavy on the "Expressways"; it's pretty clogged in town, too. Again, why anyone would drive into town, and deal with which way is this one-way, and hunt for, then pay $10 for 2 hours for, a parking spot...well, I guess that explains why probably 1/2 the cars in town at any given time are cabs. And there are cabs. Constantly and in good supply. Unless you need one. If you're walking down the sidewalk, cabs will actually blow their horns like "hey! I'm available! need a ride?". They're cab prostitutes....hey baby, you lonely tonight? Only $10 for a quickie. I have soft leather seats. I'll take you anywhere you want to go - for a price.
I don't mind the traffic at all, really. It is what it is. The only thing to do about it is look for a way around it. I'm good at finding the side street that gets you around the main drag when it's jammed, even here. Hey - they don't call me map-bitch at home for nothin'.
Honey, I've driven in Atlanta, which is much, much worse than here. At least to my memory, but maybe I was just less tolerant in my younger days. And I will admit that I'm generally going the direction of the lesser traffic. I can see that it's heavier coming into the city in the morning, and heading to the 'burbs in the evening. But even on Sunday morning the traffic on the interstate is pretty thick. And at 3 a.m. the traffic in town is surprisingly heavy. But there's just so many people here with things to do and places to be, and in spite of a good transit system, we like the freedom that having your own car brings. Frankly, I'm not so sure that driving to Wrigleyville on a game day would be any worse that cramming into the train with a bunch of sweaty fans. :)
But the traffic....yes it's heavy, and yes, there are crazy drivers just like anywhere, and there are people who's signals don't seem to work (I always want to stop that guy in the $80k car and say "you know, for that price it looks like they'd include turn signals, doesn't it?"), and there are people who are just rude or not paying attention, like anywhere. But for the most part, people seem to just accept that it's going to be like this, and there's nothing you can do about it, and you may as well just go with the flow. I've only rarely encountered someone that would not let me into a lane, or that insisted on riding my bumper even though I was closer than I liked to the car in front of me. And rarely have I seen the idiot that flies in and out of lanes like their trunk in on fire and they're trying to out run it. Hard to do when all lanes are packed and everyone is going 40.
One thing that contributes is that half the lanes on most of the interstates are closed for "summer repaving". It's something they do here because the "winter salting" causes so much damage to the road. I guess if I want clear roads in the winter, I have to deal with fewer lanes in the summer. And while I'm thinking of it, the interstates here are not interstates. At home we say I-65 or I-24 or even just 565 or 75 or 20, without the I in front. Here, they're "Expressways". Sounds fancy, and fast, even though they're neither. It's the "Eisenhower Expressway", or the Dan Ryan (who??) or the Kennedy. And exits are labeled things like "To The Western Suburbs", as though "I-290 West" wouldn't be good enough.
Traffic is not just heavy on the "Expressways"; it's pretty clogged in town, too. Again, why anyone would drive into town, and deal with which way is this one-way, and hunt for, then pay $10 for 2 hours for, a parking spot...well, I guess that explains why probably 1/2 the cars in town at any given time are cabs. And there are cabs. Constantly and in good supply. Unless you need one. If you're walking down the sidewalk, cabs will actually blow their horns like "hey! I'm available! need a ride?". They're cab prostitutes....hey baby, you lonely tonight? Only $10 for a quickie. I have soft leather seats. I'll take you anywhere you want to go - for a price.
I don't mind the traffic at all, really. It is what it is. The only thing to do about it is look for a way around it. I'm good at finding the side street that gets you around the main drag when it's jammed, even here. Hey - they don't call me map-bitch at home for nothin'.
Home
I've been slackin' of late on documenting my adventure in the city. For the handful that actually read this, I apologize. What time I've not been busy with visitors or work, I've been too tired to think. But that's what happens with this thing we call life.
Yesterday was a "home" day. I haven't been feeling actually homesick, but there are things that I see or that happen that just make me think "home", and make me a little sad or lonesome for the familiar. The constant news about the gulf and the pictures of the beautiful beaches I've known since I was too young to even remember make me extra sad - it's like I left Alabama and now I can't ever go back. I can't go back to Orange Beach and sit on the blindingly white sand and see the blue-green water splash onto the shore. It's now mucky sand and mucky water, and it's not like those years of the red seaweed or trash a hurricane blew in - it won't go away that easily. But, then, we hear about it every day and there's little else to say, except I sure wish someone would have taken it seriously 2 months ago.
Another "home" thing yesterday was the heat. I walked out at lunch and it was hot and sunny and humid - just like home. It made me smile, even though it was sticky and sweaty and the car seat was scalding. In the late afternoon, a storm came through. This was not your typical little afternoon shower, this was a STORM; the kind that is defined in the sky like someone pulling a blanket up over your head. You see the front edge, dark and menacing, coming in fast. The wind was bending trees over as though they were made of rubber. Limbs starting rolling across the ground, and then the rain hit. Hit is a good word for it too - it was a hard, driving rain that slammed against the windows and brought traffic to a halt.
I had not left work yet, but my desk faces large, continuous windows across the front of the building, so I had a front row seat. When it did let up enough to make a run for it, I did. Friday afternoon traffic is bad enough; throw in some rain, downed power lines and trees, and a lot of people thinking the same as me (it's going to take twice as long to get anywhere), and it becomes a good time to have a book on tape, or learn French as you drift slowly through the streets. Unfortunately, I had neither a book nor a "Learn to Speak French" CD in my car, so Edith Piaf sung me home instead.
Winding through Oak Park, around closed streets and utility workers, I saw a beautiful thing. Something I had not seen in almost 2 months. It caught me so by surprise that it brought tears to my eyes and I wanted to follow it until it stopped, and get out of my car and hug it and say "home!!!". It was an Alabama license plate. Mobile County. It was beautiful. Of course, I see the one that is still on my car since I haven't changed either plates or drivers license yet, but this was someone else here in the city far from home. Were they having as much fun as I? Did they miss the South? Were they here to visit, or on a grand adventure like me? Guess I'll never know, as they went straight on Lake as I turned on Harlem. I little while later I saw a Mississippi tag, but it didn't feel the same.
The last bit of "home" for the day was at the Green Door Tavern. It's a neat little place around the corner that is supposedly the oldest tavern in Chicago, was home to a famous speakeasy in the day, and still has the original green door from then, hence the name. As I sat there enjoying a cold one, a man in a familiar orange shirt walked by. No, not Auburn burnt orange, but close. It was the brighter orange of the Florida Gators. As he went by I said "War Eagle" and he stopped in his tracks. We chatted a little about the SEC, and I lamented that I would not be able to see all of the games here. He told me about Sully's, where they will carry any game you want. Reminded me of the End Zone at home - dozens of TV's with every possible game every Saturday in the Fall.
So I got a large dose of home yesterday, and I can't wait to get it for real. I'm flying to Nashville the weekend of July 4th, and hoping someone will pick me up and take me home. Of course, someone also has to take me back to Nashville on Monday so I can come back to what has easily become a foster home, a surrogate, an adopted home. And since it's 80 and beautiful outside, I'm going to get out there and meet a little more of it today.
Yesterday was a "home" day. I haven't been feeling actually homesick, but there are things that I see or that happen that just make me think "home", and make me a little sad or lonesome for the familiar. The constant news about the gulf and the pictures of the beautiful beaches I've known since I was too young to even remember make me extra sad - it's like I left Alabama and now I can't ever go back. I can't go back to Orange Beach and sit on the blindingly white sand and see the blue-green water splash onto the shore. It's now mucky sand and mucky water, and it's not like those years of the red seaweed or trash a hurricane blew in - it won't go away that easily. But, then, we hear about it every day and there's little else to say, except I sure wish someone would have taken it seriously 2 months ago.
Another "home" thing yesterday was the heat. I walked out at lunch and it was hot and sunny and humid - just like home. It made me smile, even though it was sticky and sweaty and the car seat was scalding. In the late afternoon, a storm came through. This was not your typical little afternoon shower, this was a STORM; the kind that is defined in the sky like someone pulling a blanket up over your head. You see the front edge, dark and menacing, coming in fast. The wind was bending trees over as though they were made of rubber. Limbs starting rolling across the ground, and then the rain hit. Hit is a good word for it too - it was a hard, driving rain that slammed against the windows and brought traffic to a halt.
I had not left work yet, but my desk faces large, continuous windows across the front of the building, so I had a front row seat. When it did let up enough to make a run for it, I did. Friday afternoon traffic is bad enough; throw in some rain, downed power lines and trees, and a lot of people thinking the same as me (it's going to take twice as long to get anywhere), and it becomes a good time to have a book on tape, or learn French as you drift slowly through the streets. Unfortunately, I had neither a book nor a "Learn to Speak French" CD in my car, so Edith Piaf sung me home instead.
Winding through Oak Park, around closed streets and utility workers, I saw a beautiful thing. Something I had not seen in almost 2 months. It caught me so by surprise that it brought tears to my eyes and I wanted to follow it until it stopped, and get out of my car and hug it and say "home!!!". It was an Alabama license plate. Mobile County. It was beautiful. Of course, I see the one that is still on my car since I haven't changed either plates or drivers license yet, but this was someone else here in the city far from home. Were they having as much fun as I? Did they miss the South? Were they here to visit, or on a grand adventure like me? Guess I'll never know, as they went straight on Lake as I turned on Harlem. I little while later I saw a Mississippi tag, but it didn't feel the same.
The last bit of "home" for the day was at the Green Door Tavern. It's a neat little place around the corner that is supposedly the oldest tavern in Chicago, was home to a famous speakeasy in the day, and still has the original green door from then, hence the name. As I sat there enjoying a cold one, a man in a familiar orange shirt walked by. No, not Auburn burnt orange, but close. It was the brighter orange of the Florida Gators. As he went by I said "War Eagle" and he stopped in his tracks. We chatted a little about the SEC, and I lamented that I would not be able to see all of the games here. He told me about Sully's, where they will carry any game you want. Reminded me of the End Zone at home - dozens of TV's with every possible game every Saturday in the Fall.
So I got a large dose of home yesterday, and I can't wait to get it for real. I'm flying to Nashville the weekend of July 4th, and hoping someone will pick me up and take me home. Of course, someone also has to take me back to Nashville on Monday so I can come back to what has easily become a foster home, a surrogate, an adopted home. And since it's 80 and beautiful outside, I'm going to get out there and meet a little more of it today.
Monday, June 7, 2010
a funny, a missing person, a unexpected kindness, and a tear
1. Okay, I get the "windy city" part. There's always at least a nice breeze here, and sometimes it's a stiff breeze, and sometimes it's a blow-you-over breeze. Sometimes, like this evening, it feels good and fresh and is just cool enough to refresh. Sometimes it's not quite enough as the heat rises from the sidewalk or street. And I'm sure that in a few months, I'll call it horrible names. But sometimes, it can make you laugh.
Walking back from a trip to Borders yesterday, bag of books in hand, I came upon a breeze strong enough to actually sway a heavy bag of books and almost stop me in my tracks. But the funny part was that it lifted the cap I was wearing right off my head. I turned and skipped after my cap as it scooted down the sidewalk. Just as I got to it, it scurried off again, and again. Have you ever seen Benny and Joon? That's what I felt like. I couldn't help but laugh. When I finally captured the cap, I turned and almost smacked right into this guy who had seen the whole ordeal and was laughing too. It's healthy sometimes to have a good laugh at your own expense.
2. Also yesterday, I noticed that the un-homeless guys' space was a little emptier than usual. His doorway home had become quite crowded with all the paraphernalia he had collected. This evening as I walked by, I looked more closely and it seems he's moved on. All that's left is a cooler and a trash can - I guess he couldn't carry those on his bike.
Can't say I'm sorry to see him go, and I hope he's got a better place to stay, and maybe a job. I didn't feel threatened by him or scared of him, but I do feel a little easier walking by that spot. Let's just pray that a "vacant lot" sign doesn't go up.
3. One of the best discoveries since moving here is Chipotle. It's a quick, inexpensive, but wonderfully delicious mexican restaurant chain. They have a small menu - you can get a burrito, a salad, or a bowl made with your choice of chicken, steak, pork or veggies. Like Subway, you get to choose what you want included, and everything is fresh and yummy. And it's big enough to make 2 meals. For me, anyway.
Tonight I ordered a bowl with steak and all my usual fixins, and a "chips and guacamole" on the side. A guy with a really nice smile and obviously pleasant personality turned around and said "I'm working on the guac now so it'll just be a minute". Now, this stuff is worth waiting for - they make it from scratch and it's truly scrumpdilliumptious. After 6-8 minutes I had my bowl, guac and chips and was headed out the door. The guac guy came running out the door after me and handed me a Chipotle gift card. "Sorry you had to wait - it's on me". How sweet. And what he didn't know was that I would have waited a lot longer to have that guac to take home with me. I was tempted to take him home with me too. But only if he'd bring more of that green goodness with him.
4. After what seems like months, my house in Huntsville is finally on the market. Someone will buy it, soon I hope, and I officially won't live there anymore. Jeff is the listing agent which is great - I know he will find a buyer that appreciates all the good things about the house, and overlooks the things that could be better. Of course, the kitchen is the jewel of the house. It was the main thing that made it hard to leave. That and the beautiful Japanese maple, and the Chinese dogwood I just planted late last summer. No, I don't choose trees based on nationality, it just seems that way.
Tonight I looked at the house listing on the MLS website. The pictures are good and really make the house look great. But the picture of the kitchen - the hickory cabinets with their variations of light and dark wood, the range and fridge that I was so proud to finally have, the ceiling I fought with to hang, the sink I installed myself (complete with disposal which I wired myself) and the faucet I paid way too much for...but mostly the cabinets made of the most beautiful wood I've ever seen - seeing that brought a tear. I guess I inherited my love of wood from my father, and maybe even my grandfathers, who made their livings as carpenters. A tree is transformed into something functional, or decorative, and is warm and sturdy all at once. It's grounded; it has roots. I can't think of anything else that does that.
My grandfather, Papa, once said of a tree "that is a living thing. It gives us shade from the sun, the leaves cool the wind, it provides food for humans or animals. Don't ever forget that a tree is a living thing".
Yep, I think that's where I get it.
Walking back from a trip to Borders yesterday, bag of books in hand, I came upon a breeze strong enough to actually sway a heavy bag of books and almost stop me in my tracks. But the funny part was that it lifted the cap I was wearing right off my head. I turned and skipped after my cap as it scooted down the sidewalk. Just as I got to it, it scurried off again, and again. Have you ever seen Benny and Joon? That's what I felt like. I couldn't help but laugh. When I finally captured the cap, I turned and almost smacked right into this guy who had seen the whole ordeal and was laughing too. It's healthy sometimes to have a good laugh at your own expense.
2. Also yesterday, I noticed that the un-homeless guys' space was a little emptier than usual. His doorway home had become quite crowded with all the paraphernalia he had collected. This evening as I walked by, I looked more closely and it seems he's moved on. All that's left is a cooler and a trash can - I guess he couldn't carry those on his bike.
Can't say I'm sorry to see him go, and I hope he's got a better place to stay, and maybe a job. I didn't feel threatened by him or scared of him, but I do feel a little easier walking by that spot. Let's just pray that a "vacant lot" sign doesn't go up.
3. One of the best discoveries since moving here is Chipotle. It's a quick, inexpensive, but wonderfully delicious mexican restaurant chain. They have a small menu - you can get a burrito, a salad, or a bowl made with your choice of chicken, steak, pork or veggies. Like Subway, you get to choose what you want included, and everything is fresh and yummy. And it's big enough to make 2 meals. For me, anyway.
Tonight I ordered a bowl with steak and all my usual fixins, and a "chips and guacamole" on the side. A guy with a really nice smile and obviously pleasant personality turned around and said "I'm working on the guac now so it'll just be a minute". Now, this stuff is worth waiting for - they make it from scratch and it's truly scrumpdilliumptious. After 6-8 minutes I had my bowl, guac and chips and was headed out the door. The guac guy came running out the door after me and handed me a Chipotle gift card. "Sorry you had to wait - it's on me". How sweet. And what he didn't know was that I would have waited a lot longer to have that guac to take home with me. I was tempted to take him home with me too. But only if he'd bring more of that green goodness with him.
4. After what seems like months, my house in Huntsville is finally on the market. Someone will buy it, soon I hope, and I officially won't live there anymore. Jeff is the listing agent which is great - I know he will find a buyer that appreciates all the good things about the house, and overlooks the things that could be better. Of course, the kitchen is the jewel of the house. It was the main thing that made it hard to leave. That and the beautiful Japanese maple, and the Chinese dogwood I just planted late last summer. No, I don't choose trees based on nationality, it just seems that way.
Tonight I looked at the house listing on the MLS website. The pictures are good and really make the house look great. But the picture of the kitchen - the hickory cabinets with their variations of light and dark wood, the range and fridge that I was so proud to finally have, the ceiling I fought with to hang, the sink I installed myself (complete with disposal which I wired myself) and the faucet I paid way too much for...but mostly the cabinets made of the most beautiful wood I've ever seen - seeing that brought a tear. I guess I inherited my love of wood from my father, and maybe even my grandfathers, who made their livings as carpenters. A tree is transformed into something functional, or decorative, and is warm and sturdy all at once. It's grounded; it has roots. I can't think of anything else that does that.
My grandfather, Papa, once said of a tree "that is a living thing. It gives us shade from the sun, the leaves cool the wind, it provides food for humans or animals. Don't ever forget that a tree is a living thing".
Yep, I think that's where I get it.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Bursting Bubbles
Let me just give you a small piece of advice. If you're a Costco member, and you plan to move to Chicago, go ahead and cancel your membership. It's not that Costco has anything amazing, but I've always been able to spend more there than I really needed to or planned to any day of the week. Whether it's movies, or books, or household stuff or food or wine...I have rarely gone into Costco at home and come out with less than - okay, realistically - $50 worth of things I didn't plan to buy. And most of the time it was much more. Enough that they insisted I have an Executive membership. Enough that my AmEx rewards for 2 years was close to $100.
Wouldn't you just expect that everything in the big city is bigger and better? So far, everything I've come across has been worthy of this fair city; the food, the shops, the transit systems, even the familiar stores. All just a step or 3 above what I can find at home. Today, Gypsy (my GPS) and I headed north to the nearest super membership warehouse. Not far away, just up near Lincoln Park. With anticipation of great things to come, I grabbed a buggy - excuse me - cart, and made my way into the store. The layout was different; I never did locate the household cleaning products, but I didn't look terribly hard. The one positive thing I'll say is that the wine selection was much, much larger. Everything else was, well, a disappointment. It's like they tried to jam so much more into the store that they ended up with less. Less selection, and Costco has a limited selection as it is.
I'll not carry on about a subject that means little to me or anyone else, but I just wanted to express that my bubble has been, if not burst, well, made a little smaller. Or less shiny. I can handle traffic, and weather (although winter is far away), and being away from anyone I know. But to learn that not everything is bigger and better just makes the city a little more common. Common isn't bad except when you expect more.
Oh - for maybe the first time ever, I left Costco with nothing. It was such an unusual experience, I couldn't figure out how to get out of the store without going through checkout! Now I know.
Wouldn't you just expect that everything in the big city is bigger and better? So far, everything I've come across has been worthy of this fair city; the food, the shops, the transit systems, even the familiar stores. All just a step or 3 above what I can find at home. Today, Gypsy (my GPS) and I headed north to the nearest super membership warehouse. Not far away, just up near Lincoln Park. With anticipation of great things to come, I grabbed a buggy - excuse me - cart, and made my way into the store. The layout was different; I never did locate the household cleaning products, but I didn't look terribly hard. The one positive thing I'll say is that the wine selection was much, much larger. Everything else was, well, a disappointment. It's like they tried to jam so much more into the store that they ended up with less. Less selection, and Costco has a limited selection as it is.
I'll not carry on about a subject that means little to me or anyone else, but I just wanted to express that my bubble has been, if not burst, well, made a little smaller. Or less shiny. I can handle traffic, and weather (although winter is far away), and being away from anyone I know. But to learn that not everything is bigger and better just makes the city a little more common. Common isn't bad except when you expect more.
Oh - for maybe the first time ever, I left Costco with nothing. It was such an unusual experience, I couldn't figure out how to get out of the store without going through checkout! Now I know.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Nightlites
When I first moved in, I was so enthralled by the view from my windows that I would go to sleep gazing at the city view. I even moved my bed from one side of the room to the other in order to have a better view. The lights from the city - and when I say city I mean that I have a view of a large portion of both the northern side of the Loop and the north river buildings - shine pretty brightly, and if the light weren't dissipated, individually low but as a whole, fairly luminous, it would be a problem. For me, though, it's somehow comforting.
I have for most of my life been drawn to the night sky. The moon and I have a personal relationship, and "big O", better known as Orion, is my protector. Here, I've lost sight of big O but I have no doubt he's still up there watching over me. And the moon, and her brother (in this case), the sun, are my precious offspring, permanently tattooed on my back and in my heart.
This new view, so foreign and nevertheless comforting, is almost like the stars. You can look at the stars for hours and continually see something new - a new pattern or shape, and endlessly new points of light in the distance. My view is much the same; almost every day or evening I see something I didn't notice before. A new building, smoke stake, pattern, antenna...you name it. There is so much out there it's impossible to take it all in at once. Or twice, or thrice....
Pretty much smack dab in the middle of the view is the famed Sears Tower (now renamed the Willis Tower). I was excited at the prospect of having this building which held the title of tallest in the world for many years, and the two huge antenna towers on the top, in my daily life. The odd thing, though, is that it's not a very attractive building. It's tall alright, but there's nothing interesting or beautiful about it. I'll give it this much...it is certainly impressive, but it's not my favorite building in town.
My favorite is the Merchandise Mart. It's not so noticeable during the day - you almost have to point it out - and even I didn't notice it at first. But at night, it's the most graciously beautiful sight. The lights, which reach the length and I'm sure the breadth (a full block) of the top two stories, glow a soft amber, making the regal facade of the place most romantic. The amber glow is echoed in the end turrets and the middle tower, both castle-like. The fun element is that the under-lighting of the middle tower changes color. Sometimes also amber, but around Mother's Day, it was pinkish (more peach, actually), and for a couple of weeks they've been blue. Over this past weekend, however, and continuing into this week, they've been red. This could be in commemoration of the Veterans that have shed their blood for this country, or it could be Blackhawk red, or it could be a coincidence that the 'hawks are 2 games up in the Stanley Cup, and everything in the city is red and black.
I guess the bottom line is that, of all the amazing sights from my windows at night, this old and venerable massive plain brown hunk of a building becomes the first thing to draw the eye, and the heart. Maybe it's a symbol for all of us that are surrounded by taller, newer, shinier sights, telling us that there's a glow about us that, if someone is looking just right, shines through.
By the way, I still sleep with the shades up and the city lights shining through the windows. I'm not at all sure I'll ever close those blinds. It's my nightlight.
I have for most of my life been drawn to the night sky. The moon and I have a personal relationship, and "big O", better known as Orion, is my protector. Here, I've lost sight of big O but I have no doubt he's still up there watching over me. And the moon, and her brother (in this case), the sun, are my precious offspring, permanently tattooed on my back and in my heart.
This new view, so foreign and nevertheless comforting, is almost like the stars. You can look at the stars for hours and continually see something new - a new pattern or shape, and endlessly new points of light in the distance. My view is much the same; almost every day or evening I see something I didn't notice before. A new building, smoke stake, pattern, antenna...you name it. There is so much out there it's impossible to take it all in at once. Or twice, or thrice....
Pretty much smack dab in the middle of the view is the famed Sears Tower (now renamed the Willis Tower). I was excited at the prospect of having this building which held the title of tallest in the world for many years, and the two huge antenna towers on the top, in my daily life. The odd thing, though, is that it's not a very attractive building. It's tall alright, but there's nothing interesting or beautiful about it. I'll give it this much...it is certainly impressive, but it's not my favorite building in town.
My favorite is the Merchandise Mart. It's not so noticeable during the day - you almost have to point it out - and even I didn't notice it at first. But at night, it's the most graciously beautiful sight. The lights, which reach the length and I'm sure the breadth (a full block) of the top two stories, glow a soft amber, making the regal facade of the place most romantic. The amber glow is echoed in the end turrets and the middle tower, both castle-like. The fun element is that the under-lighting of the middle tower changes color. Sometimes also amber, but around Mother's Day, it was pinkish (more peach, actually), and for a couple of weeks they've been blue. Over this past weekend, however, and continuing into this week, they've been red. This could be in commemoration of the Veterans that have shed their blood for this country, or it could be Blackhawk red, or it could be a coincidence that the 'hawks are 2 games up in the Stanley Cup, and everything in the city is red and black.
I guess the bottom line is that, of all the amazing sights from my windows at night, this old and venerable massive plain brown hunk of a building becomes the first thing to draw the eye, and the heart. Maybe it's a symbol for all of us that are surrounded by taller, newer, shinier sights, telling us that there's a glow about us that, if someone is looking just right, shines through.
By the way, I still sleep with the shades up and the city lights shining through the windows. I'm not at all sure I'll ever close those blinds. It's my nightlight.
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