a year later

Well, my 1-year anniversary is just a month away.  Of course it doesn't seem possible that it was a year ago that I picked up and moved to this great mid-western city.  Never quite understood the mid-west part but maybe this was mid-west before they realized how far it was to the Pacific ocean.  Once early settlers reached the mighty Mississippi, they were HOPING that they were half-way there.

I can tell that Spring is upon us.  It was warm enough yesterday to walk to both my massage appointment (ahhhhh) and my dental appointment (AAAIIEEE) in just a sweat suit.  It's sunny and looks warm outside today, but the weather people say it's going to be much cooler today.

Another herald of Spring is the groups of Spring-breakers I encountered yesterday, the increased traffic at all hours, and, to my chagrin, the motorcycles.  Of all the sounds of the city, this is the only one that grates on me - but it's because people on motorcycles like them loud and fast, and the on-ramp to the expressway just beneath my building is the perfect drag-raceway. 

And speaking of sounds in the night, it happened again last night....sirens that didn't continue past on Orleans, or onto the expressway, or over on Grand, but came right up my street.  This is the 4th time I remember this happening in the past year, and the first 3 times I jumped out of bed to see whether it was my building that they came to visit.  Last night, I was too tired to worry about it.  I knew that someone would be banging on my door if I needed to flee.

The scary things about being awakened in the middle of the night to cries of "fire" or "leave the building" are a. having to grab something decent to put on that is also suitable for whatever weather is happening, b. the thought of fire in general and the danger, the destructiveness of it when it get loose in a building, and c. losing my home and possessions.  Actually not in that order - I would go into the street naked if it meant that my home, and that of the others here, would be safe.

It's very easy to tell when the sirens come down my street.  I live on the last block of the street, which is one-way all the way from the lake, and no one wanders down this part of the street unless they have a reason to be here.  This block is mostly residential, and at the end you must turn one way or the other, or drive through the park and into the river.  There are 4 restaurants on this block, meaning much of the traffic in the evenings is diners.  So, a firetruck or ambulance would not use this part of the street as a route to anywhere but this part of the street.

It's an odd bit of knowledge I've picked up, but if you cross the river on one of the several bridges in the area, and wind your way back roughly across from the park at the end of my street, you'll find a continuance of Ontario that goes all the way to Oak Park.  There's no bridge on Ontario, but it's as though there were.  It's the same with several streets without bridges across the river - they just pick up on the other side anyway.  And they run several miles toward the West.  In Huntsville, a street would have changed names 20 times between the lake and Oak Park.  That's just what they do in Huntsville.  I guess it's part of the grid design of Chicago that is supposed to make navigation in the city easier.  And maybe just in case someone decided to build another bridge at some point, so they wouldn't have to rename part of the street or cause mass confusion because the street suddenly changed it's moniker.

So, anyway, this has been home for almost a year now, and yesterday I signed a lease for another year, so it will continue to be home for a while more.  As much fun as it might be to have a different view, and discover a different part of the city, I like being right here.  I'm not tired of the view, or the rooms I inhabit.  It's convenient, the employees are super, the kids know how to get here, and it's become my home.  I'm glad my landlords agreed to have me stay on.  As expensive as it is, it would cost more to move, and why move when you've got the perfect place already?  

Home, sweet home, Chicago.