Home?

It's odd being home and not being at work. On one hand, it's great being in control of my time for a change. On the other hand, it's hard to decide what task to complete first.
So, of course, I took myself out to breakfast first.
Sitting at the IHOP drinking coffee and looking out the window at a cold and dreary Chicago day (and trying not to think of the hot sun that greets Sydneysiders at this time of year), I noticed a short apartment building a block or two away. What drew this building to my attention was not only the nice wooden trellis on the roof, but the flagpole next to it.
The rain and wind had wrapped the fabric around the pole until one moment when the wind shifted and the banner was released...an Australian flag!

Going back Up Over

SYDNEY, AU - - Finished packing and am waiting for the airport shuttle, once again bringing a close to my Australian holiday. As expected, depression is starting to set in. Mother Nature, however, is trying to push me on my way with a cool, overcast day. Thanks, mom!
Had a second long chat with Tour Guide last night. (VERY AFRAID of cell phone bill!) He wants to work and maybe live longterm in Canada. Doesn't know exactly where or what he will do for a living, but he wants to go there. Did I mention that he doesn't know anyone there, has never been there and knows almost nothing about the country?
I guess we all make uninformed decisions and then cling to them for dear life. Oh well, he'll learn...or maybe not. But it's not my problem.
Yep, he hasn't said anything about coming to visit me in Chicago and that's fine. Maybe we'll go back to being Facebook friends. Nothing more.
Again, that's fine.
Well, gotta get my luggage and meet the shuttle.

Sunday Night at the Observer Hotel

SYDNEY, AU - - And before you get all "oooh, dirty bits coming up," let me educate you a bit. In Australia, a hotel often is a tavern/pub that may or may not rent out rooms. The Observer Hotel was established in 1848 and I think they know what they're doing...or maybe not.
You know you're in for a special evening of entertainment when the singer/guitarist starts playing a song not because it's on his song list, but because the local guy in the corner started singing it. What song? "You Lost That Loving Feeling" by the Righteous Brothers. And yes, EVERYONE in the bar started singing along!
The next singalong was Frankie Valli's "You're Just too Good to be True."
Things got out of hand pretty quickly after that.
This being my second visit to the Observer in the past week, the bartender apparently recognized me asked me if I wanted a Toohey's New (beer). Refreshed with my cool beverage, I grabbed a seat in the corner of the bar where I could watch the proceedings in safety.
Did I mention that the singer put a piece of gum in his mouth between songs? I don't know if anyone else noticed that but I have NEVER seen a solo performer chew gum during songs.
I don't know if it was the gum or what, but our singer seemed to have a bit of trouble hitting the high notes during "Take on Me" by A-Ha. No worries! The crowd filled in for him.
There was a small TV on the wall near where the singer performed and during one of his songs, a few guy right in front looked up to see the New Zealand All Blacks rugby team doing its warm-ups. If you've never seen this event, you really should. Picture about 20 muscular blokes dressed all in black, beating their chests and chanting in a terribly menacing fashion. It's very primal and actually pretty scary and if I were their opponent, I'd be soiling my pants right now.
The singer looked up to watch, too.
Like I said, things were pretty loose at the Observer.
Just when things were getting somewhat mellow (he actually sang a few songs by Bread, if you know the band), he flew into "Faith" by George Michael. The crowd went bananas, jumping around and singing.
Do we have places like this in Chicago and if so, can someone please tell me where?

Aussie from the past

SYDNEY, AU - - Would anyone out there be surprised to hear that I got an email from Tour Guide about a month ago through Facebook? If you don't remember the situation, let me refresh: we stayed in touch after I left Australia via Skype, email, texts and the occasion phone call.
We seemed to get pretty close (if you consider being in daily contact getting close) and then he asked if I would ever consider leaving Chicago? This question was followed pretty quickly by the off-hand comment that he had recently gotten drunk and slept with a female friend of his!!!
Needless to say, we fell out of touch soon after that conversation. I even deleted his Facebook friendship.
Fast forward to a few weeks ago. He emailed me to let me know that he had taken a job in Tasmania (another state in Australia, one that's an island south of the mainland) and would be moving from Darwin to 'Tassie' in October and I would be welcome to visit him while I'm in Australia.
I was curious as to why he contacted me, so I texted him while I was in Port Douglas a few days ago. We arranged to have a direct phone call and spoke for over 2 hours!
Apparently, our 'falling out of touch' was his way of running away from me because he felt like he might've been getting too close to me and we both knew the situation was impossible. Instead of discussing it and agreeing that nothing could come of our 'relationship,' he re-directed his desire for me to this other woman and in the process, lost both women.
He invited me to come to Tasmania this weekend (pretty much now, as I'm writing this on Friday afternoon). I was pretty sure it wasn't a good idea, but an ocean provides a pretty good buffer from trouble, so I checked on flights just for the hell of it.
The travel gods must have felt it wasn't a good idea either because the flights were CRAZY expensive!!! Tour Guide even offered to pay my way back to Australia if I flew down to Tassie, but the cost was really too much and the flight times didn't make for a good plan anyway.
So where does this leave us?
I'll keep you posted.

Fashionistas Down Under

SYDNEY, AU - - Okay, I'm not one of them. And BOY! did I feel out of place shopping along Crown Street in Surry Hills (suburb of Sydney). You know you're in trouble when you don't have nice enough clothes to wear to GO SHOPPING for nice clothes!
Actually, I headed this way (about a mile southeast of the central business district) to seek out a restaurant called Spice I Am, a lovely little storefront Thai place that Rachel Ray mentioned on one of her travel shows.
I've never seen so much leg on one street! Apparently, the spring fashion in Sydney is to wear (essentially) a bag that just barely covers the ass and then either ankle boots or gladiator sandals with it. Fortunately, most of the girls wearing this style look good in it, but I think they might look a bit better with a dress that shows off their figure a bit more. Okay, sue me, I'm old!
Yes, I did end up helping the Australian economy (that's doing just fine, thank you!) with several purchases from little boutique shops and a few vintage stores. I LOVE vintage jewelry and purses! I even bought a baseball cap that's angora and lambswool. Fabulous!!
And I DID find the restaurant so it's time for an early dinner!

You take your entertainment, I'll take mine.

PORT DOUGLAS, AU - - Every time I try to read a book on my balcony, one of those rainbow lorikeets screeches past & reminds me that nothing in print could be as captivating as the show Mother Nature has set in front of me. A flash of red, yellow and green. There goes another one, careening from one coconut palm to the next.
Golden palms, foxtail palms, lipstick palms and fan palms...my buddy Wolfgang (former owner of the apartment building where I'm staying) taught me the names of these beauties.
The breeze creates a swooshing melody that's so soothing but at the same time competes for my attention with the insistent roar of the not-too-distance waves at 4 mile beach.
Who needs a book?

File under 'So You Think You're All That'

PORT DOUGLAS, AU - - In an effort to get some sun on my shoulders and even out the 'farmer's tan' I got in Sydney, I put on a tube top and went to sit on my 2nd floor balcony (although they call it first floor here). Anyway, I stood up to get a better view of my beautiful surroundings and leaned over to cross my arms on the railing.

Two young guys were walking past on the sidewalk across the street and they both looked over at me and smiled. Do I smile back? Wave? Before I could decide, they were gone.

And then another guy was getting into a taxi in front of my building and he looked up at me...a few times.

Hmm??? What's this about?

Then it hit me. From their position, at ground level, they probably couldn't tell whether or not I was wearing a top!!

Find the sun through the rain

PORT DOUGLAS, AU - - My tan development program will be postponed for one day, at least, as it is once again raining in PD. I've been here 5 days and it's rained for 2 of those day. (Of course, I've spent every MOMENT of the other three days on 4-mile beach, so I'm getting a bit brown).
The rain is funny here, though, as it seems more like a cleansing than anything else. It's a rainforest rain, very drenching but not in a freezing, angry, run-for-cover-type of way like at home. I don't mind at all getting caught in this rain.
This trip has been unusual for me, but I can't put my finger on how I feel about the differences in this year's excursion Down Under. I've always loved Port Douglas, but this year is definitely an out-of-sorts visit.
My friends sold the apartment complex where I'm staying, so I don't know anyone here except one of the housekeepers. My friends moved a few hours' drive away, so I don't really expect to see them at all. And there are a TON of families with small children in town this time (small, crying, fussing, interrupt-your-quiet-dinner little ankle-biters).
Did I mention it's rained a lot here this time???
There's even a chance I won't be able to go snorkeling on my birthday because of the high winds. Guess I never really appreciated the opportunities I've had in the past to spend my birthday on the Great Barrier Reef. I'm crossing my fingers that last year won't have been my last chance.
Okay MJ, enough bitching. I am determined to snap out of it and count my blessings that I can afford (???) to treat myself to what for many people would be a once-in-a-lifetime trip. (I've been here EIGHT TIMES!!! somebody slap me!)
Rain or no rain, screaming children or not...I WILL find the joy in this, possibly my last, trip to Australia.

Do you live here? Only if I can find my way home...

SYDNEY, AU - - I must look, or at least act, like an Aussie because I've been in Sydney for about 24 hours and I've been asked directions twice! Hmmn...

One discernable difference between me and a true Sydneysider is that they know their way around town. I was dropped off at my hotel yesterday morning, dropped off my bags and went walking around to re-acquaint myself with the city.

Several hours later, I decided to see if my room was ready yet (too early to check in at 9am). I walked south down Pitt Street from the Rocks neighborhood to a store that read '303 Pitt' across the front. Okay, my hotel's address is 300 Pitt, so I looked across the street for the entrance to the Metro Hotel.

It wasn't there.

It wasn't next door to 303 either. Or one or two store fronts down.

IT WAS ON THE NEXT BLOCK!!! (One point for Chicago's grid system of streets).

Tomorrow it's on to Port Douglas!

The bridge

Hey there Australia, it's me again.

SYDNEY, AU - - I've decided that time moves at a different pace here. I've been in Sydney for less that 12 hours, but I feel like I've been away from home for a week (and I mean that in a good way). In the first hour, I got sunburn (yay! that's how I start a tan). Of course, it's only 3:30 in the afternoon, but I REALLY want to go to bed.


Getting off the plane here, I wondered what had changed in this, one of my favorite cities. Well, as different as it is from Chicago, Sydney always has seemed comfortably familiar to me (even the first time I was here). But like any other major metropolitan area, it's a living, breathing entity and change is inevitable.


Having dropped off my bags at my hotel, I trekked down to Milson's Point (???) and said my usual hello to the Sydney Harbor Bridge. The Opera House will have to wait since a humungous cruise ship had docked in my line of sight. I'll bid my welcome to the Opera House tomorrow.


My stomach growled and I decided to go to my usual haunt in the Rocks neighborhood. The Gumnut Cafe is this cute little eatery that features a tiny back courtyard where you can often spot brightly colored parakeets in search of spilled sugar. The 2-seat tables are actually ancient Singer sewing machines, complete with foot pedal! It's a lovely bit of calm in the midst of the hectic Sydney business district.


Not any more.


I walked up and found a rental store for bicycle tours of Sydney! I stood outside the door with my mouth agape and then my stomach rumbled again, so I moved on. My second choice of brekky locale was fine, but I felt cheated. Turns out, my little cafe only closed a few weeks ago!!!


I'm quite sure no one's moved the Opera House, so I can return to my sense of stability when I visit it tomorrow.


On Wednesday, I travel to Port Douglas. It's another return visit, but another change, too. My friends, Wolfgang and Christel, sold the Archipelago (the served apartment building where I've stayed for several years) but the new owners sound nice in emails and a surprise long-distance phone call.


Change is inevitable and often, very healthy. I'm preparing for some changes myself, so this trip will be good practice on learning how to roll with it. Wish me luck!

Mistakes revisited??

In the middle of the second circuit of my every-other-day workout, my cell phone rings. I stopped doing oblique twists and grab the phone off the charger in my kitchen. Hoping it's the person I've been trying to meet (work stuff, get your mind outta the gutter...for now), I breathe "hello."

The guy on the phone has a strong accent and the man with whom I've been trying to meet definitely does not. My mind is reeling.

He said his name, but I didn't hear it since I have competing audio output from my workout CD and also the TV. So I did what any smart and curious woman would do...I fake it.

"Oh, hi! How are you?" I'm waiting to get some kind of clue as to who this is and whether or not I want to continue this conversation.

Eventually it comes to me. It's a guy who works for the Cubs. The same guy (I'm embarrassed to say) that I got drunk and made out with in Denver. Apparently, I gave him my number.

The season ended yesterday and he's heading back home (Miami??) in a few days and wanted to know what I was doing tonight.

My memories of Denver came rushing back and I decided that I wasn't up for the booty call. I told him I have a cold (which I do, kind of) and planned to finish my workout, take a shower and go to bed...alone. He laughed at the 'alone' part and asked if I was sure.

I gotta give him credit for not waiting till midnight to call. It was only 7 o'clock.

Inspiration or perspiration?

With a much-needed day off after returning from my niece's wedding in the Washington, DC area, I treated myself to a movie.
"Julie and Julia," if you don't know, is two stories actually. One tale is about Julia Child, the lovely and funny chef that taught America how to cook French food. The other story is about a woman named Julie who decided to cook all 500+ recipes in the aforementioned chef's book and write a blog about the process.
Leaving the theatre, it dawned on me that it was almost dinner time and I wanted to cook something....with butter!!! And probably wine.
But first, my workout.

Denver 2009, okay, actually just Coors Field

Um...what??? Rockpile?? Since when is that a legitimate seating area??? In case you're wondering, it's the cheapseats that are directly above dead-center field. Apparently, they're sold day-of-game and can cost as little as $5!


While walking to Coors Field, I spotted a statue in front of the ballpark. Quick! Name a single Rockies player (current or former) that would merit a statue. Can't think of anyone? Me neither. Guess this is a statue of the 'everyman' player. Kinda lame, methinks.


Okay, this is kinda neat. On the centerfield concourse, the average joe could be (at least for half an inning), Joe Buck...or Pat Hughes...or the next Harry Caray! For a small fee, you can announce the Rockies game as it's being played. Not sure where the broadcast is heard or if it's recorded.



Less than a block from Coors Field are several bars and restaurants...in short, a pretty fun area to hang out. I'm guessing the owner is a transplanted Chicagoan. For the most part, I felt pretty welcomed by the Rockies fans (of course, that could be because my boys looked awful for much of the weekend and the Rockies, by comparison, looked fabulous!)


Aramis Ramirez congratulates Derrek Lee after he scored in Saturday's game. Too bad these two couldn't put together more offense as the Cubs dropped three of four games in Colorado.

Nice park, huh? Shitty beer, though. And the food service is practically self-serve as I counted five vendors between home plate and right field during one point during the game on Saturday. That's five IN TOTAL, not five just in my aisle. Oh, did I mention you can get SALAD at a stand on the concourse?


This is not Barney, the purple dinosaur. It's Dinger, the Rockies' mascot. What the hell a dinosaur has to do with Colorado I had to know. The woman sitting next to me on Sunday filled me in. "When they were digging the hole for the ballpark, they found dinosaur bones. They had to shut the whole thing down for a while because it became an excavation site." So now you know the rest of the story, as Paul Harvey would've said.

Although Ryan Dempster's pitching has been very good at times and mediocre at others, his batting has been consistently....um, how to put this kindly? Less-than-spectacular. I think Rockies pitcher (and former Cub) Jason Marquis knew this.

This is the view of the outfield from the centerfield concourse. Yep, I know, I could sit and watch the fountains in this best-EVER batter's eye too!

Good cabbie/bad cabbie

In the interests of balancing the cabbie karma in the universe, please see the following story of a good man who happens to drive a taxicab.


http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/local/chi-cab-pick-pocketaug06,0,1060293.story



I'd like to think there are more of this guy than the other, but I'm not sure.

Power to the People

When the taxi driver immediately backed down and offered to let me pay whatever I wanted, I knew that I was being cheated. And I wasn't going away quietly.

Here's how it went down.

Having just flown home from Arizona on a late flight, I was trying to stay awake on a chilly March evening. A guy stood about 25 feet down the road from me, also waiting for a taxi. Being a good traveler, I offered to let him share the ride (he was there first, after all).

So two strangers piled into the taxi van and headed east. After only a few blocks, my fellow traveler got out. I noticed the meter read $4.95 + 1.00 (for the extra passenger). The stranger handed the driver $5 and said his goodbyes.

Without re-setting the meter, the driver continued on and reached my destination a few miles down the road. Imagine my surprise when the driver asked me for the full fare.

"What about the $5 he gave you?" I asked.

The driver started to explain that since the other traveler and I didn't know each other, it wasn't a true shared ride.

"Excuse me?!!"

That's when he immediately offered to let me pay whatever I wanted. Something in me snapped and I knew I wasn't going to put up with another dishonest taxi driver. If Chicago gets the Olympics, I didn't want a-holes like this giving my city a bad reputation.

So I filed a complaint with the city.

After testifying over the phone (a truly stressful thing, lemme tell ya!), we WON! The taxi driver was fined $140 for attempting to overcharge me.

Justice!

We Believe

Since the 2009 version of the Chicago Cubs aren't exactly running away with the division, I decided it might be nice to re-live some of the excitement of the 2008 season. I bought a ticket to the premier of "We Believe," a documentary about the Cubs and the city's connection to the team and its fans.

First of all, Chicago looks great in this movie! Of course, the city always looks pretty in the summer (in my humble opinion), but there's something about seeing Wrigley Field at daybreak from a helicopter view that's really quite cool.

Several Cubs players were interviewed for the movie and it's always nice to see who has personality and who doesn't. Fortunately, the Chicago Cubs are never short of 'characters.' I'll have to buy the DVD when it comes out because I missed several minutes of the movie as the crowd went bezerk (sp?) when now-former-but-still-ridiculously-popular Cub Mark DeRosa was on screen.

Opening Day 2008 got a lot of screen time and it deserved it. The Cubs trailed 3-0 in the bottom of the ninth inning when brand-spanking-new Cub Kosuke Fukodome hit a three-run homer to send the game into extra innings. I attended the game and I thought Wrigley Field would explode from the noise!

In what has become all-too-common occurence, the Cubs lost in extra innings. The film showed the dejected fans filing out of the park, hanging their heads. One scene showed a sad Cubs fan sitting all alone after the game's end with a sign that read 'Expect Great in '08.'

"Oh my God! That's me!" I said to no one in particular at the Chicago Theatre.

And it was!

I'm not a fan who brings signs and banners to show allegiance, but on that day I did. I don't know why. But now I'm in a movie.

Who knew?

Let's get this summer in gear already!

It's been a pretty slow summer so far. Slow in what way, you may ask??? Well...several ways.
The Cubs have been only so-so performers after having been picked in the pre-season to pretty much run away with the division. I've seen recent signs of life with their on-again, off-again offense so I can stay cautiously optimistic, as always.
I've decided that Mother Nature really has something against Chicago. Yes, I know our winters are beyond-belief shitty with record cold air temps and peel-your-skin-off wind, but come on!!! It's almost mid-June and we should be in mini skirts and shoulder-baring tank tops.
But NOOOOOO!!!!
I can count the jacket-free days on one hand! Convertibles like mine were built for speeding down Lake Shore Drive with the top down enjoying the sun on my face and the wind in my hair. But I can't even THINK about throwing the ragtop down with all the rain and chilly breezes we've suffered through.
On the 'social' scene, things have been...well, up and down (and not in THAT way, you dirty-minded but lovely friends!)
Redbird Fan never called. Or at least, he never stayed on the phone long enough for us to have a conversation. What's with that? Guys always say they need to know they have the 'green light.' Well, hell! I'll hold the door open for you, but I won't push you through it!
Then there was C Neighbor who kept telling me he had a crush on me. I wouldn't hear anything from him for weeks and then a random text asking me to come by and cuddle with him. Cuddle??? We have never been on a date! We don't even know each other's last names?!?!
A baseball-themed theatre production convinced me to go out solo a few weekends back. The show was interesting and so was the 6-foot-4 guy sitting next to me. Actually, we had already talked a bit while I was buying my ticket and he was picking up his free ducat (courtesy of a pal who was performing in the show).
We chatted during intermission and after a confusing ending of the play, we both decided to go for a drink and try to figure out what we just saw. It was a nice conversation, so I traded business cards with Sniper (his name for going out solo, as he often does, too). We made tentative plans to see the Cubs game that Thursday.
I didn't hear my cell phone ring late Wednesday afternoon, but I called back to the work number that Sniper left. He left the message that he couldn't get a sitter for his son, so he couldn't go to the game with me. It was almost 6pm when I called back, so I wasn't surprised to get his voicemail, but was surprised to not hear from him again.
At all.
My volleyball friends all think that perhaps Sniper wasn't as available as he made himself out to be.
Who are these social misfits and why do I keep meeting them?
The good news this season is I've been keeping up with my 30 Day Shred workouts (probably 3 times per week), so when I finally do get a chance to show off my bod, it will be ROCKING!!!
Oh, and I just place a Victoria's Secret order, so I am staying cautiously optimistic there, too!

TMI....to the nth degree!

I confess...I belong to another website besides Blogspot. And I've got heaps of friends who belong to it, too. This can be a great way to keep in touch. Or it can be a nightmare.

Periodically, I'll check out my friends' 'pages' to see what's going on in their lives. Not often, but I do this sometimes when I'm bored at work.

So the other day, I went on a friends' page and see that he had taken one of the thousands of quizzes that are offered by this website. Not sure what purpose these quizzes serve, except as excellent time-killers. The website designers come up with several questions and when you answer them, you are labeled with one of their titles. Something like 'Marilyn Monroe' (if you take the quiz 'who were you in a former life?' for example).

Anyway, my 'friend' has emerged from his "what kind of lover are you?' quiz as (apparently) an amazing lover, 'one who always leaves the partner hungry for a second go-round.'

Normally, I'd give the test-taker a hard time about their quiz results. There is NO WAY I'm going to bring this up the next time I see this 'friend'. I don't even know if I'll be able to look him in the eye. Now....or ever!

Why???

Because he's my nephew!

Verrrryy interesting!

So I mailed my business card to Redbird Fan, not knowing if he'd even get it before the tradeshow here in Chicago (which starts today, by the way). He travels quite a bit, I think.

At 4:57 pm, my cell phone rings and I check the display: a 314 area code.

St. Louis!

'Hello?' I tried to sound friendly but not overly so.

A man's voice replies, "Oh, sorry, I must have the wrong number."

And hangs up!

So who's the bigger chickenshit, me or him? I hung up when his receptionist tried to put my call through and he (or his friend/coworker) hung up when I answered.

There is NO WAY IN HELL that the call wasn't from him.

The tradeshow ends on Thursday. We'll see...