So the letter said, "It is the finding of the Administrative Law Judge that the information submitted supports a determination that the violation did not occur. Consequently, you are not responsible for the fine."
HA! Take that, city hall!!!
I got a parking ticket for not having a receipt in my car window. For those of you who haven't experienced the lovely, relatively new meter system in Chicago, let me explain: when you park in almost any commercial area of Chicago, you have to 'buy your time' by inserting either quarters or a credit card and purchasing a receipt that shows the latest time you will be departing your parking spot. So if the receipt reads '9:15 pm,' you have to either move your car or purchase another receipt before 9:15 pm or else you get a ticket (if they catch you).
Since there are only 2 or 3 parking meters for each block, you have to leave your parked car unguarded to walk down the street and purchase your receipt. Oftentimes, an overly eager cop will issue your ticket while you're buying your receipt!
This has happened to me at least twice in the past 6 months.
Here's the loophole...if you send a letter and your receipt (printed within 5 minutes of the ticket's issuance time) to the ticketing agency, you can fight 'the man.'
And possibly win, like I did - - both times!
Oh, did I mention that you're only supposed to be able to challenge one ticket per year???
Oops!
Friday, August 13, 2010
Thursday, August 05, 2010
They put their pants on one leg at a time, too. Right?
It's funny how I've been going to a bunch of charity events lately. It seems that when I don't have the money to spend, opportunities to run up a big credit card bill arrive at every corner.
It'll come as no surprise to those that know me that the event was a sports-related one. So here I was surrounded by professional athletes and those who cheer them. It was a country music-themed event (not my style) and filled with cutesy 20-something chicas, but I was determined to have a good time anyway.
Of course, where there are professional athletes, there will be a VIP-only area complete with an earpiece-equipped, black-suited security man. Unfortunately, I didn't have access to the private area, but I found a spot at the bar that had a great view of the stage and close proximity to the VIP room.
Enter the athletes, some of whom I've met before and at least one who knows me by name and always gives me a kiss on the cheek 'hello.' And then there are the other guys, the athletes who view adoring fans as a necessary evil and would rather lose the World Series than have a lengthy conversation with said fans.
One pro (who fell squarely in the second camp), himself a 6-foot-5, muscular stud, stood near the big, burly doorman and motioned to him. I didn't hear the conversation but was able to figure out that our celebrity athlete was trying to find the men's room. Did I mention that this sports guy makes more $$$ per year than I (and many people) will collect in our entire working careers?!
So Studly Pro Athlete is directed to the restrooms that were located on the farthest side of the room from the VIP area, completely accessible to everyone at the event.
When Studly Pro Athlete realized that he would have to whip 'it' out in front of mere mortals.....well, the look on his face was priceless!!! Totally worth the entrance fee!
What made it even better was the fact that a teammate of Studly Pro Athlete (who is much shorter and less muscular) needed the facilities, too, and didn't seem to mind peeing with the common man.
It'll come as no surprise to those that know me that the event was a sports-related one. So here I was surrounded by professional athletes and those who cheer them. It was a country music-themed event (not my style) and filled with cutesy 20-something chicas, but I was determined to have a good time anyway.
Of course, where there are professional athletes, there will be a VIP-only area complete with an earpiece-equipped, black-suited security man. Unfortunately, I didn't have access to the private area, but I found a spot at the bar that had a great view of the stage and close proximity to the VIP room.
Enter the athletes, some of whom I've met before and at least one who knows me by name and always gives me a kiss on the cheek 'hello.' And then there are the other guys, the athletes who view adoring fans as a necessary evil and would rather lose the World Series than have a lengthy conversation with said fans.
One pro (who fell squarely in the second camp), himself a 6-foot-5, muscular stud, stood near the big, burly doorman and motioned to him. I didn't hear the conversation but was able to figure out that our celebrity athlete was trying to find the men's room. Did I mention that this sports guy makes more $$$ per year than I (and many people) will collect in our entire working careers?!
So Studly Pro Athlete is directed to the restrooms that were located on the farthest side of the room from the VIP area, completely accessible to everyone at the event.
When Studly Pro Athlete realized that he would have to whip 'it' out in front of mere mortals.....well, the look on his face was priceless!!! Totally worth the entrance fee!
What made it even better was the fact that a teammate of Studly Pro Athlete (who is much shorter and less muscular) needed the facilities, too, and didn't seem to mind peeing with the common man.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
George who?
Do you know anyone who has Down Syndrome or someone in their family has it? I'd put money on it that you also know someone whose family member has DiGeorge Syndrome.
Never heard of it, have you?
Apparently, with 1 in 1200 births exhibiting some of the more than 180 possible symptoms, DiGeorge Syndrome is almost as common as Down Syndrome, but it's terribly difficult to diagnose. It's the partial deletion of the 22q11.2 chromosome. How did I come to learn about this ailment, much less care enough to post something about it?
It goes back to my Chicago Cubs involvement. And my interest in charity work.
Ryan Dempster is a starting pitcher for the Cubs and a guy I met about 3 or 4 years ago. He's been on the team for about 6 years and is one of the most down-to-earth professional athletes you'll ever meet. (And, if you live in the area around Wrigley Field, you might meet him in one of the local shops or riding his bike with his family.)
His daughter Riley was born 15 months ago and within four days of her birth, was diagnosed with DiGeorge Syndrome. She couldn't swallow, so a tracheotomy (sp?) tube was inserted, which is how she got nutrition. With physical therapy, Riley has progressed to the point where the trach tube was removed a few months ago. Yay, Riley!
At first, Ryan and his gorgeous wife Jenny didn't want to disclose their daughter's health issues. After many discussions, they decided to use Ryan's popularity to help other families whose children have DiGeorge Syndrome. They created the Dempster Family Foundation to raise cash and interest in the disorder. Their first big fundraiser was this week at the House of Blues in Chicago. Of course, I volunteered.
'We' had at least 700 people in attendance including the ENTIRE Chicago Cubs team (looking very hot in tuxedos!) I don't know the final tally, but if the silent auction items are any indication, the event should've raised a TON of money:
- autographed Mickey Mantle baseball (New York Yankee Hall of Famer, for my European friends who don't know baseball)
- autographed framed photo of Michael Jordan, Scottie Pippen and Dennis Rodman (when all 3 were busy winning NBA titles for the Chicago Bulls). Apparently, less than 300 copies of this photo exist!
- 2 tickets to the 2010 World Series with airfare and hotel included!
- autographed photos and pucks from the Stanley Cup-winning Chicago Blackhawks. (Oh, did I mention that a bunch of Blackhawk players attended too?)
And a lot of other cool stuff.
I've heard from sooo many attendees saying what a great time they had. Fortunately, the Cubs had a day off following the event, so they could recover from what was an energy-packed night starting with a casino night where Cubs players were the dealers and a country music concert with Gary Allen. For me, it was a fabulous opportunity to not only help a very worthwhile cause, but actually have conversations with some of the Cubs players.
There are more and more websites popping up about this topic, but if you'd like to check out the Dempster's info, please go to www.dempsterfamilyfoundation.org
Thank you for your attention. Now back to your regularly scheduled internet blogs.
Never heard of it, have you?
Apparently, with 1 in 1200 births exhibiting some of the more than 180 possible symptoms, DiGeorge Syndrome is almost as common as Down Syndrome, but it's terribly difficult to diagnose. It's the partial deletion of the 22q11.2 chromosome. How did I come to learn about this ailment, much less care enough to post something about it?
It goes back to my Chicago Cubs involvement. And my interest in charity work.
Ryan Dempster is a starting pitcher for the Cubs and a guy I met about 3 or 4 years ago. He's been on the team for about 6 years and is one of the most down-to-earth professional athletes you'll ever meet. (And, if you live in the area around Wrigley Field, you might meet him in one of the local shops or riding his bike with his family.)
His daughter Riley was born 15 months ago and within four days of her birth, was diagnosed with DiGeorge Syndrome. She couldn't swallow, so a tracheotomy (sp?) tube was inserted, which is how she got nutrition. With physical therapy, Riley has progressed to the point where the trach tube was removed a few months ago. Yay, Riley!
At first, Ryan and his gorgeous wife Jenny didn't want to disclose their daughter's health issues. After many discussions, they decided to use Ryan's popularity to help other families whose children have DiGeorge Syndrome. They created the Dempster Family Foundation to raise cash and interest in the disorder. Their first big fundraiser was this week at the House of Blues in Chicago. Of course, I volunteered.
'We' had at least 700 people in attendance including the ENTIRE Chicago Cubs team (looking very hot in tuxedos!) I don't know the final tally, but if the silent auction items are any indication, the event should've raised a TON of money:
- autographed Mickey Mantle baseball (New York Yankee Hall of Famer, for my European friends who don't know baseball)
- autographed framed photo of Michael Jordan, Scottie Pippen and Dennis Rodman (when all 3 were busy winning NBA titles for the Chicago Bulls). Apparently, less than 300 copies of this photo exist!
- 2 tickets to the 2010 World Series with airfare and hotel included!
- autographed photos and pucks from the Stanley Cup-winning Chicago Blackhawks. (Oh, did I mention that a bunch of Blackhawk players attended too?)
And a lot of other cool stuff.
I've heard from sooo many attendees saying what a great time they had. Fortunately, the Cubs had a day off following the event, so they could recover from what was an energy-packed night starting with a casino night where Cubs players were the dealers and a country music concert with Gary Allen. For me, it was a fabulous opportunity to not only help a very worthwhile cause, but actually have conversations with some of the Cubs players.
There are more and more websites popping up about this topic, but if you'd like to check out the Dempster's info, please go to www.dempsterfamilyfoundation.org
Thank you for your attention. Now back to your regularly scheduled internet blogs.
People say the nicest/strangest things
I've been frequenting a store called Brown Elephant. It's very much like an indoor garage sale because the merchandise is donated and the proceeds benefit the gay and lesbian community in my neighborhood (didn't tell you that I live in a gay neighborhood? my bad. Pretty safe for a single hetero girl, methinks.)
I'm all about helping causes...especially when I can find a seasoned cast iron griddle for $5!
Anyway, I was strolling through today when an older black gentleman walked up to me and said something that I didn't quite catch. (I was listening to the Cubs game on my ancient am/fm radio complete with earplug).
"I think it's 'eloquent,'" he said as I removed my ear piece. "Is that how you say it?"
"Um, yes, that's the word," I replied, having no idea what he was talking about.
"You look very eloquent," said the stranger.
So, I have that going for me.
I'm all about helping causes...especially when I can find a seasoned cast iron griddle for $5!
Anyway, I was strolling through today when an older black gentleman walked up to me and said something that I didn't quite catch. (I was listening to the Cubs game on my ancient am/fm radio complete with earplug).
"I think it's 'eloquent,'" he said as I removed my ear piece. "Is that how you say it?"
"Um, yes, that's the word," I replied, having no idea what he was talking about.
"You look very eloquent," said the stranger.
So, I have that going for me.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Still got it?
I live in what's commonly known as "Boystown," a neighborhood of Chicago that has a large gay population. It's a pretty comfortable place for a straight, single woman to live, especially if she really doesn't want a lot of male attention...or at least wants to have some sense of control over such attention.
Which brings me to the situation that occurred the other night after a Cubs game. It was hot and humid, as it tends to be in Chicago in the summer. Smart women know that one of the coolest outfits for a woman to wear in hot/sticky weather is a sundress. Lovely, easy-to-wear, cotton sundresses are FABULOUS when you want to look cool and not like a hot mess.
Anyway, after watching the Cubs win(!), I (in my sundress) walked home alone and while waiting for a traffic light to change, I heard a car pull up near me. I didn't bother to check them out (remember: boystown), but apparently the feeling wasn't mutual.
"May I see your breasts?" came the crude, but polite request.
I surpressed a laugh and, no, I did not oblige!
Maybe if he had said please.
Which brings me to the situation that occurred the other night after a Cubs game. It was hot and humid, as it tends to be in Chicago in the summer. Smart women know that one of the coolest outfits for a woman to wear in hot/sticky weather is a sundress. Lovely, easy-to-wear, cotton sundresses are FABULOUS when you want to look cool and not like a hot mess.
Anyway, after watching the Cubs win(!), I (in my sundress) walked home alone and while waiting for a traffic light to change, I heard a car pull up near me. I didn't bother to check them out (remember: boystown), but apparently the feeling wasn't mutual.
"May I see your breasts?" came the crude, but polite request.
I surpressed a laugh and, no, I did not oblige!
Maybe if he had said please.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Let 'em Drink Cake
At the risk of this blog become a foodie hangout, I was hesitant to share with you the two shot recipes that I learned recently while on a rare evening out. Some of these may be 'the usual' for you, but as a woman who really doesn't 'do shots,' I was pleasantly surprised at how good (and not gag-worthy) they were.
Pineapple Upside-Down Cake
1 part Vanilla Vodka
1 part Pineapple Juice
splash Cherry Juice
YUM!!!
Fudgy Chocolate Cake
3 parts plain vodka
1 part Frangelico (hazelnut liquor)
That's it, nothing chocolate in it at all, but it really tastes chocolaty!
Have fun!
Pineapple Upside-Down Cake
1 part Vanilla Vodka
1 part Pineapple Juice
splash Cherry Juice
YUM!!!
Fudgy Chocolate Cake
3 parts plain vodka
1 part Frangelico (hazelnut liquor)
That's it, nothing chocolate in it at all, but it really tastes chocolaty!
Have fun!
Monday, June 21, 2010
Snack attack for the curious cook
The other night, I was planning to go to one of the gloriously FREE outdoor movies that the Chicago Park District sponsors when I realized that a portable snack would definitely be in order.
Just so you know, the movies aren't the 50-year-old 'classics' (although that would be great, too). My cinematic freebie was "The Blind Side." Nice flick.
A snack is normally an option, take-it-or-leave-it, but not for me.
Since I started working out 5 days a week, I'm hungry ALL THE TIME.
Popcorn is the natural choice for movie-watching, right? I decided to go 'old school' and make popcorn the way my dad used to, in a huge pot with a bit of oil. But I just couldn't leave well enough alone and just butter and salt it, could I? Nooooo.
One batch was the sweet one with melted butter mixed with cinnamon/sugar.
The second batch was a challenge because I wanted something savory (yes, I watch the Food Network! shut it!) I had planned to make a garlic and parmesan cheese popcorn, but I didn't have enough cheese (question: is there ever enough cheese?)
Spinning my spice/herb lazy susan, I came across 'Mesquite Bar-B-Q Spice.'
Fabulous!!!
There will be more outdoor movies to enjoy, so I'm asking if anyone has any other popcorn-flavoring ideas?
Just so you know, the movies aren't the 50-year-old 'classics' (although that would be great, too). My cinematic freebie was "The Blind Side." Nice flick.
A snack is normally an option, take-it-or-leave-it, but not for me.
Since I started working out 5 days a week, I'm hungry ALL THE TIME.
Popcorn is the natural choice for movie-watching, right? I decided to go 'old school' and make popcorn the way my dad used to, in a huge pot with a bit of oil. But I just couldn't leave well enough alone and just butter and salt it, could I? Nooooo.
One batch was the sweet one with melted butter mixed with cinnamon/sugar.
The second batch was a challenge because I wanted something savory (yes, I watch the Food Network! shut it!) I had planned to make a garlic and parmesan cheese popcorn, but I didn't have enough cheese (question: is there ever enough cheese?)
Spinning my spice/herb lazy susan, I came across 'Mesquite Bar-B-Q Spice.'
Fabulous!!!
There will be more outdoor movies to enjoy, so I'm asking if anyone has any other popcorn-flavoring ideas?
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Rod the Mod(el citizen)
My 83-year-old mother is a fan of Rod Stewart.
Yes, THAT Rod Stewart!
No, she doesn't hum 'Do Ya Think I'm Sexy' while baking oatmeal cookies, but she was very excited when I presented her with a copy of Rod Stewart's CD 'Songbook' (part two, I think). She was almost as thrilled recently when she opened my Mother's Day gift to her (two expensive hotel-quality king-size pillows)...I hope there's no connection.
Let me explain.
Apparently, Rod Stewart has long been a fan of 'the classics.' I don't mean Beatles music or any tunes from the 1960s or even the 1950s.
Try the '40s.
Yep, he of the blond spiky hair and gravelly voice used to sing the old music as a warm-up before taking the stage to perform his sex-fueled anthems.
Cole Porter. George Gershwin. Hoagy Carmichael.
The Songbook collection is actually four CDs. I have I and II and my mother has I and IV. When she found out that I had one of the CDs that is absent from her collection, she actually whined a bit. So, being the good daughter I am, I had to get the missing two.
Did I mention that my mother is 83?!
Yes, THAT Rod Stewart!
No, she doesn't hum 'Do Ya Think I'm Sexy' while baking oatmeal cookies, but she was very excited when I presented her with a copy of Rod Stewart's CD 'Songbook' (part two, I think). She was almost as thrilled recently when she opened my Mother's Day gift to her (two expensive hotel-quality king-size pillows)...I hope there's no connection.
Let me explain.
Apparently, Rod Stewart has long been a fan of 'the classics.' I don't mean Beatles music or any tunes from the 1960s or even the 1950s.
Try the '40s.
Yep, he of the blond spiky hair and gravelly voice used to sing the old music as a warm-up before taking the stage to perform his sex-fueled anthems.
Cole Porter. George Gershwin. Hoagy Carmichael.
The Songbook collection is actually four CDs. I have I and II and my mother has I and IV. When she found out that I had one of the CDs that is absent from her collection, she actually whined a bit. So, being the good daughter I am, I had to get the missing two.
Did I mention that my mother is 83?!
The Cup - World, not Stanley
Did I mention that I used to be a sportswriter? Okay, take that background and add a very rules-oriented personality and you might understand why I am more than a little perplexed at the situation that arose in the World Cup match between the U.S. and Slovenia.
Rules are rules, right? And they're written down in a book somewhere. And the umpires, referees, judges, or whatever they're called, know the rules and can quote line and verse. The people charged with enforcing these rules have to know every single one of them explicitly. They must know when to blow the whistle and when not to.
Right?
Then can SOMEONE please explain how a goal can be disallowed by one soccer official and yet no one in the stadium knows what the infraction is...and the official is not asked to explain the call?!
Who is this official? All I know about him is this was the first World Cup match he's been called upon to officiate.
Hmmn...
How do we know he's just not a dainty, delicate little fellow who's angry that some U.S. player, oh, I don't know, maybe farted near him and didn't say 'excuse me.'???
If anyone out there has the inside scoop on this, please let me know. Meanwhile, I'll just sit here and fume...
Rules are rules, right? And they're written down in a book somewhere. And the umpires, referees, judges, or whatever they're called, know the rules and can quote line and verse. The people charged with enforcing these rules have to know every single one of them explicitly. They must know when to blow the whistle and when not to.
Right?
Then can SOMEONE please explain how a goal can be disallowed by one soccer official and yet no one in the stadium knows what the infraction is...and the official is not asked to explain the call?!
Who is this official? All I know about him is this was the first World Cup match he's been called upon to officiate.
Hmmn...
How do we know he's just not a dainty, delicate little fellow who's angry that some U.S. player, oh, I don't know, maybe farted near him and didn't say 'excuse me.'???
If anyone out there has the inside scoop on this, please let me know. Meanwhile, I'll just sit here and fume...
Saturday, June 12, 2010
First time since 1961!!!
For weeks we've been on the edges of our bar stools, cheering every goal and clutching our hearts at every impossible save by our goalie and finally, FINALLY!!! the Chicago Blackhawks have won the Stanley Cup!
None of the current players were even born the last time our Hawks were the champions of the National Hockey League. You want a wild and crazy hockey game? Well, how about a month of them! In the finals against the Philadelphia Flyers, one of our players lost SEVEN TEETH while blocking a shot! (We love you, Duncan Keith!)
For a city whose two baseball teams are stinking up the place, we really needed something to celebrate.
So...we had a little party.
Congratulations to the 2010 National Hockey League champion Chicago Blackhawks and series MVP Jonathan Toews!
None of the current players were even born the last time our Hawks were the champions of the National Hockey League. You want a wild and crazy hockey game? Well, how about a month of them! In the finals against the Philadelphia Flyers, one of our players lost SEVEN TEETH while blocking a shot! (We love you, Duncan Keith!)
For a city whose two baseball teams are stinking up the place, we really needed something to celebrate.
So...we had a little party.
Congratulations to the 2010 National Hockey League champion Chicago Blackhawks and series MVP Jonathan Toews!
Monday, June 07, 2010
Universal party line
While watching the Cubs game on TV, I saw a reporter pal of mine sitting in the stands (in Pittsburgh, not Chicago). The announcers knew him too, and started ripping on him for his choice of seats since he had apparently told them that he wanted to get a foul ball (and since there were practically NO FANS at the game, it shouldn't be too difficult).
For the non-baseball fans reading this, it should be known that 'good foul ball territory' is usually considered somewhere behind first base or third base, normally on the ground level. My buddy, however, was sitting in the upper deck and not very likely to snag the precious souvenir from there. Oh, did I mention that this reporter friend is a SPORTS REPORTER (and should know better?!?!)
Having heard the bad-mouthing from the TV announcers, I texted this pal and informed him of the good-natured harassment. A few minutes later, the TV crew scanned the crowd and couldn't locate my friend in the upper deck area. The announcers mentioned that my pal re-located after hearing that he was being ripped by them.
GEEZ!! I text it here and it comes out there!
Later that same day, I strolled through a resale shop in my neighborhood. I really LOVE this place! It's like a huge garage sale with everything from furniture to clothing to books and CDs to costume jewelry (you might remember this when you see me wearing a necklace that looks very much like a small black rosary adorned with a French cross).
Anyway.
I've taken to shopping here occasionally. It's not like going to Target or Macy's or an actual department store where you will definitely find what you need because, well, they keep it in stock!
Picture walking up to a garage sale and asking the homeowner if they have a glass measuring cup. Hell! I don't know! Look around! would probably be the response.
Like I said, it's not Target.
Would you believe not once or twice, but at least three times I've walked into this huge, messy emporium with a certain purchase in mind...AND FOUND EXACTLY THAT ITEM! (Today it was a pepper grinder for those of you keeping track.)
What wavelength I'm operating on is not known, but at least I'm not alone there.
For the non-baseball fans reading this, it should be known that 'good foul ball territory' is usually considered somewhere behind first base or third base, normally on the ground level. My buddy, however, was sitting in the upper deck and not very likely to snag the precious souvenir from there. Oh, did I mention that this reporter friend is a SPORTS REPORTER (and should know better?!?!)
Having heard the bad-mouthing from the TV announcers, I texted this pal and informed him of the good-natured harassment. A few minutes later, the TV crew scanned the crowd and couldn't locate my friend in the upper deck area. The announcers mentioned that my pal re-located after hearing that he was being ripped by them.
GEEZ!! I text it here and it comes out there!
Later that same day, I strolled through a resale shop in my neighborhood. I really LOVE this place! It's like a huge garage sale with everything from furniture to clothing to books and CDs to costume jewelry (you might remember this when you see me wearing a necklace that looks very much like a small black rosary adorned with a French cross).
Anyway.
I've taken to shopping here occasionally. It's not like going to Target or Macy's or an actual department store where you will definitely find what you need because, well, they keep it in stock!
Picture walking up to a garage sale and asking the homeowner if they have a glass measuring cup. Hell! I don't know! Look around! would probably be the response.
Like I said, it's not Target.
Would you believe not once or twice, but at least three times I've walked into this huge, messy emporium with a certain purchase in mind...AND FOUND EXACTLY THAT ITEM! (Today it was a pepper grinder for those of you keeping track.)
What wavelength I'm operating on is not known, but at least I'm not alone there.
Tuesday, June 01, 2010
Another school year ends
I was at church on Sunday. Yes, I go to church most Sundays. Maybe it's just a force of habit since I was raised Catholic, went to a Catholic grammar school, etc. Maybe I just find it comforting to have a peaceful place to think through my issues.
But I digress...
So here I sat at mass at 9:30 a.m. and I spotted a small group of blue-robed would-be graduates in the first few rows of the church, their square-topped caps sporting a gold tassel hanging on the left (that's how I knew they hadn't graduated yet...you move the tassel to the right after receiving your diploma).
I wasn't distressed to think that the presence of a large group of school kids might lengthen the time of the mass. I wasn't curious to know who's the class valedictorian, the class clown, the most-likely-to-succeed. I wasn't bored to hear the priest doling out words of wisdom to the class of 2010.
I was soooo jealous of the times that lay ahead of them. At 12 or 13 years old, they haven't even taken drivers ed yet MUCH less had to figure out car payments and insurance rates.
They haven't had to ignore that gossiping, immature idiot in the office cubicle next to theirs. They haven't had to surpress their nervousness as they prepare to present an idea in a corporate boardroom. And how to ask for that raise that they really need and deserve?!?!
Sitting there, sweating in their robes, they don't realize that opportunities await, chances to re-invent themselves. If their grammar school years showed them to be a smart, but nerdy guy, they had the chance to go to high school, meet so many different people and be the most popular class valedictorian in years!
If their grade-school pals were fun but dragged them down (troublemakers, lazy kids, not creative at all), they could make a new group of friends and take up new hobbies, try new classes (psychology? home economics?) and open up a whole new world for themselves.
As the royal blue-robed students filed past, I found myself green with envy.
I want a do-over!
But I digress...
So here I sat at mass at 9:30 a.m. and I spotted a small group of blue-robed would-be graduates in the first few rows of the church, their square-topped caps sporting a gold tassel hanging on the left (that's how I knew they hadn't graduated yet...you move the tassel to the right after receiving your diploma).
I wasn't distressed to think that the presence of a large group of school kids might lengthen the time of the mass. I wasn't curious to know who's the class valedictorian, the class clown, the most-likely-to-succeed. I wasn't bored to hear the priest doling out words of wisdom to the class of 2010.
I was soooo jealous of the times that lay ahead of them. At 12 or 13 years old, they haven't even taken drivers ed yet MUCH less had to figure out car payments and insurance rates.
They haven't had to ignore that gossiping, immature idiot in the office cubicle next to theirs. They haven't had to surpress their nervousness as they prepare to present an idea in a corporate boardroom. And how to ask for that raise that they really need and deserve?!?!
Sitting there, sweating in their robes, they don't realize that opportunities await, chances to re-invent themselves. If their grammar school years showed them to be a smart, but nerdy guy, they had the chance to go to high school, meet so many different people and be the most popular class valedictorian in years!
If their grade-school pals were fun but dragged them down (troublemakers, lazy kids, not creative at all), they could make a new group of friends and take up new hobbies, try new classes (psychology? home economics?) and open up a whole new world for themselves.
As the royal blue-robed students filed past, I found myself green with envy.
I want a do-over!
Saturday, May 22, 2010
When is family not family?
I just got an invitation to a party. An actual printed, US-posted missive asking me to join in a celebration. How cool is that? I love parties!
And I plan to completely ignore it.
Before you ask why I've got a stick up my butt about this particular party, let me explain a few things:
I'm the youngest of a LARGE family. My eldest sibling was in Vietnam when I was in grammar school, so the age gap is pretty significant. Most of my brothers and sisters are/were married and have kids, so the extended family is the size of suburban Chicago.
To illustrate this disparity in ages, let me point out that I have three grand-nephews (is that a word? sons of nephews?) and a nephew-by-marriage (my brother's stepson) also has a full family of his own.
And then there are the cousins. My family's fertility apparently knows no bounds.
I have...wait, let me count them up...I have to get a piece of paper and list them. Okay, how horrible is it that I had to go and find the Excel spreadsheet that a distant cousin made up during a family reunion several years ago?!?! I couldn't remember them all!
When I was a little kid (attending one of the aforementioned family reunions), I thought an elder cousin was, in fact, my aunt. Honest mistake, though, since there is just three tiny years' difference between me and that cousin's oldest CHILD!
Okay, here's the total. I have 20 first cousins. Add to that eight siblings, those siblings' kids (18 plus 1 stepson) and you have an army that could take over Australia.
Back to the invitation.
It's not from one of my brothers or sisters.
It's not from a nephew or niece.
It's not from a cousin.
It's an invitation to the eighth grade graduation of the oldest son of a cousin that I see approximately twice per year.
WTF?!
Just because we happen to have some watered-down version of the same blood flowing through our veins is not good enough reason to invite me to your party. (I know the invite was his mother's idea, not his. Still.) This teenager and I would not recognize each other if we passed in the street.
I'm not going to the party and you can't make me.
Where do you draw the line?
And I plan to completely ignore it.
Before you ask why I've got a stick up my butt about this particular party, let me explain a few things:
I'm the youngest of a LARGE family. My eldest sibling was in Vietnam when I was in grammar school, so the age gap is pretty significant. Most of my brothers and sisters are/were married and have kids, so the extended family is the size of suburban Chicago.
To illustrate this disparity in ages, let me point out that I have three grand-nephews (is that a word? sons of nephews?) and a nephew-by-marriage (my brother's stepson) also has a full family of his own.
And then there are the cousins. My family's fertility apparently knows no bounds.
I have...wait, let me count them up...I have to get a piece of paper and list them. Okay, how horrible is it that I had to go and find the Excel spreadsheet that a distant cousin made up during a family reunion several years ago?!?! I couldn't remember them all!
When I was a little kid (attending one of the aforementioned family reunions), I thought an elder cousin was, in fact, my aunt. Honest mistake, though, since there is just three tiny years' difference between me and that cousin's oldest CHILD!
Okay, here's the total. I have 20 first cousins. Add to that eight siblings, those siblings' kids (18 plus 1 stepson) and you have an army that could take over Australia.
Back to the invitation.
It's not from one of my brothers or sisters.
It's not from a nephew or niece.
It's not from a cousin.
It's an invitation to the eighth grade graduation of the oldest son of a cousin that I see approximately twice per year.
WTF?!
Just because we happen to have some watered-down version of the same blood flowing through our veins is not good enough reason to invite me to your party. (I know the invite was his mother's idea, not his. Still.) This teenager and I would not recognize each other if we passed in the street.
I'm not going to the party and you can't make me.
Where do you draw the line?
Monday, April 26, 2010
Recipes anyone??
Been watching WAAAAYYY too much of the Food Network lately. So much so that it led me to run to the nearest store and purchase a food processor.
Okay, let me back up a bit and admit that I didn't just run willy-nilly and throw cash at the first plastic bowl that had a blade attached. I did a bit of research (just enough to know that I didn't need to spend the national debt to get a decent one), but I will admit to falling for a commercial pitch.
Giada somebody-or-other hosts one of the myriad of cooking shows that I watch - - often. I'm not sure how she does this. but she manages to show every.single.tooth.in.her.head when she smiles (which she does a lot on her Food Network show). Didn't actually know a person could smile that big. Try it! It kinda hurts and you still don't show all the bottom teeth (at least I don't).
But I digress...
Anyway, she has a line of kitchen items at Target and they aren't terribly expensive. Seriously, my friends from outside the US will have another thing that they love about America and don't have where they live if they EVER shop at a Target store. Cute styles of clothes and sassy housewares, old-fashioned board games for the whole family, even a small grocery store.
Okay, can you tell I'm hungry since I can't keep a solid thought in my head?!?!
Anyway, please send whatever food processor recipes (that aren't terribly complicated or include ingredients unknown in the US, thank you) to me if you get the chance. Me and my new kitchen gadget would greatly appreciate it!
Okay, let me back up a bit and admit that I didn't just run willy-nilly and throw cash at the first plastic bowl that had a blade attached. I did a bit of research (just enough to know that I didn't need to spend the national debt to get a decent one), but I will admit to falling for a commercial pitch.
Giada somebody-or-other hosts one of the myriad of cooking shows that I watch - - often. I'm not sure how she does this. but she manages to show every.single.tooth.in.her.head when she smiles (which she does a lot on her Food Network show). Didn't actually know a person could smile that big. Try it! It kinda hurts and you still don't show all the bottom teeth (at least I don't).
But I digress...
Anyway, she has a line of kitchen items at Target and they aren't terribly expensive. Seriously, my friends from outside the US will have another thing that they love about America and don't have where they live if they EVER shop at a Target store. Cute styles of clothes and sassy housewares, old-fashioned board games for the whole family, even a small grocery store.
Okay, can you tell I'm hungry since I can't keep a solid thought in my head?!?!
Anyway, please send whatever food processor recipes (that aren't terribly complicated or include ingredients unknown in the US, thank you) to me if you get the chance. Me and my new kitchen gadget would greatly appreciate it!
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Red pen at the ready
Is it neice or niece?
Does the period go inside the quotation marks or outside?
When do you spell out a number?
Their, they're or there?
Alot or a lot?
'Somewhat unique' is an impossible phrase. Why?
Just between you and I? Or just between you and me?
The squirrels who ate my garden or the squirrels that ate my garden...?
Are we having fun yet? Try SIX HOURS of this!!!
Okay, in the interest of full disclosure, let me admit that I signed up for this. Paid for it, in fact. The class is called "Proofreading," or, as we like to call it, "Spelling, Grammar and Punctuation for Anal People...and We Mean That in a Good Way."
Yes, I'm one of those people that gets a tiny but excruciating cramp in my brain when I see something spelled wrong in a national ad or hear someone use the wrong tense. Don't even get me started on 'ain't' and 'don't got none.' (involuntary shudder)
For those of you who can't help but be curious about the list at the top of this post, I'll let you get your aspirin before I give you the answers.
Is it neice or niece? Niece
Does the period go inside the quotation marks or outside? Periods and commas go inside the quotation marks.
When do you spell out a number? In general, numbers under 10 are spelled out (unless they deal with weights, ages, addresses, dates and a bunch of other exceptions.
Their, they're or there? Their is a possessive pronoun (refers to ownership). They're is a contraction meaning 'they are.' There is an adverb showing direction and can also be used as a pronoun.
Alot or a lot? No such word as 'alot.'
'Somewhat unique' is an impossible phrase. Why? Unique is one-of-a-kind. It can't be somewhat. Either it is or it isn't.
Just between you and I? Or just between you and me? You and me. Turn it around and see that it just sounds correct.
The squirrels who ate my garden or the squirrels that ate my garden...? That is correct. Who is used for humans and animals with a name. Unless you've named your squirrels, of course.
I'm actually quite good at this and I can't decide if I'm proud of that...or horrified.
Does the period go inside the quotation marks or outside?
When do you spell out a number?
Their, they're or there?
Alot or a lot?
'Somewhat unique' is an impossible phrase. Why?
Just between you and I? Or just between you and me?
The squirrels who ate my garden or the squirrels that ate my garden...?
Are we having fun yet? Try SIX HOURS of this!!!
Okay, in the interest of full disclosure, let me admit that I signed up for this. Paid for it, in fact. The class is called "Proofreading," or, as we like to call it, "Spelling, Grammar and Punctuation for Anal People...and We Mean That in a Good Way."
Yes, I'm one of those people that gets a tiny but excruciating cramp in my brain when I see something spelled wrong in a national ad or hear someone use the wrong tense. Don't even get me started on 'ain't' and 'don't got none.' (involuntary shudder)
For those of you who can't help but be curious about the list at the top of this post, I'll let you get your aspirin before I give you the answers.
Is it neice or niece? Niece
Does the period go inside the quotation marks or outside? Periods and commas go inside the quotation marks.
When do you spell out a number? In general, numbers under 10 are spelled out (unless they deal with weights, ages, addresses, dates and a bunch of other exceptions.
Their, they're or there? Their is a possessive pronoun (refers to ownership). They're is a contraction meaning 'they are.' There is an adverb showing direction and can also be used as a pronoun.
Alot or a lot? No such word as 'alot.'
'Somewhat unique' is an impossible phrase. Why? Unique is one-of-a-kind. It can't be somewhat. Either it is or it isn't.
Just between you and I? Or just between you and me? You and me. Turn it around and see that it just sounds correct.
The squirrels who ate my garden or the squirrels that ate my garden...? That is correct. Who is used for humans and animals with a name. Unless you've named your squirrels, of course.
I'm actually quite good at this and I can't decide if I'm proud of that...or horrified.
Monday, April 05, 2010
Big gulp
It was a perfect day for running errands. You know the type...sunny blue sky, light breeze, warm enough to have the windows down on the car, but not so hot that you stick to your seats. An unusually gorgeous spring day in Chicago.
Having just dropped off my tax return at the post office (I'm finally getting money back!!!! Yay me!), I pulled into the street and waited for the light to turn green so I could make a right-hand turn and head home. Damn those No Turn on Red signs!
In the intersection just ahead of me is a small junky Chevy waiting for the traffic to clear in order to finish a left-hand turn onto my street. Said Chevy is being driven by a woman whose age is showing as much as her scalp shows through the messy pile of brown curls on her head.
Although her turn won't affect mine, I wonder if she's one of those elderly ladies who don't do as George Carlin used to recommend to senior citizens ('Drive your age dammit! You don't have much time left! You've gotta get there FAST!')
I wonder if she's one of those ridiculously sllllloooooooowwww drivers that you have to resist the urge to honk at when they count to 10 before advancing on a newly-green light.
While waiting for the turn, the woman decided to grab a quick drink of water perhaps? from the bottle on the passenger seat.
Except this tiny, frail woman lifted a gigantic half-full TWO LITER bottle of Pepsi!
The Pepsi generation indeed.
Having just dropped off my tax return at the post office (I'm finally getting money back!!!! Yay me!), I pulled into the street and waited for the light to turn green so I could make a right-hand turn and head home. Damn those No Turn on Red signs!
In the intersection just ahead of me is a small junky Chevy waiting for the traffic to clear in order to finish a left-hand turn onto my street. Said Chevy is being driven by a woman whose age is showing as much as her scalp shows through the messy pile of brown curls on her head.
Although her turn won't affect mine, I wonder if she's one of those elderly ladies who don't do as George Carlin used to recommend to senior citizens ('Drive your age dammit! You don't have much time left! You've gotta get there FAST!')
I wonder if she's one of those ridiculously sllllloooooooowwww drivers that you have to resist the urge to honk at when they count to 10 before advancing on a newly-green light.
While waiting for the turn, the woman decided to grab a quick drink of water perhaps? from the bottle on the passenger seat.
Except this tiny, frail woman lifted a gigantic half-full TWO LITER bottle of Pepsi!
The Pepsi generation indeed.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Too cute for words
MESA, ARIZONA - - The boy had to be about 4 or 5 years old, standing along the fence with his 7-year-old sister and their mom. He was hold a baseball that, in his tiny hand, looked like a cantaloupe. They were waiting to collect an autograph from whatever Cubs baseball player came by on his way to the parking lot.
A Cubs minor leaguer, probably at least 3 or 4 years away from playing at Chicago's Wrigley Field, came down the row of fans, signing everything pushed toward him. The little guy reached over the fence and held the ball out, "Sign this! Sign this!"
The young athlete in the blue Cubs pinstripes whose name none of us knew, signed the ball and handed it back over the fence to the boy.
Jumping around bursting with joy, the little boy held the ball up, "He signed my BALL!!!! He signed my BALL!!!"
Mom reminded him of his manners and asked if he said thank you.
"THANK YOOUUUU!!"
I love Spring Training.
A Cubs minor leaguer, probably at least 3 or 4 years away from playing at Chicago's Wrigley Field, came down the row of fans, signing everything pushed toward him. The little guy reached over the fence and held the ball out, "Sign this! Sign this!"
The young athlete in the blue Cubs pinstripes whose name none of us knew, signed the ball and handed it back over the fence to the boy.
Jumping around bursting with joy, the little boy held the ball up, "He signed my BALL!!!! He signed my BALL!!!"
Mom reminded him of his manners and asked if he said thank you.
"THANK YOOUUUU!!"
I love Spring Training.
0 for 2
Married for 17 years with a 3-year-old daughter.
Lives in Southern California.
That's the line on the Brown and I can't say I'm surprised. Every time I've considered trying to look him up, I've steeled myself for the inevitable news that he's married.
OF COURSE he's married!!! He was a wonderfully sweet, caring, considerate, smart fella when I knew him a billion years ago. There had to be at least one woman in his path smart enough to snag him.
And he's still a Cubs fan, so I sent him an email as I've just returned from Cubs Spring Training in Arizona. He wanted an update on the team.
So we still have that.
And AT&T won the battle and the war. It turns out, the numerous calls to my voicemail are part of a diabolical scheme that the phone company has set up. When someone calls me and I don't answer, the phone forwards the call to my voicemail system. THIS IS CONSIDERED A PHONE CALL!!
I spoke to an AT&T representative and he explained that since I didn't pick a phone plan (excuse me, but 10 years ago, you just called the phone company upon moving in and asked what your new number was. There was no such thing as 'picking a plan.'), I was paying for each individual call.
What a load of crap!
Anyhoo, the rep suggested a plan where I would have unlimited local calls (duh!) and my costs would go down substantially. They get less $$$ and I get less frustration.
I'm going to call it a tie.
Lives in Southern California.
That's the line on the Brown and I can't say I'm surprised. Every time I've considered trying to look him up, I've steeled myself for the inevitable news that he's married.
OF COURSE he's married!!! He was a wonderfully sweet, caring, considerate, smart fella when I knew him a billion years ago. There had to be at least one woman in his path smart enough to snag him.
And he's still a Cubs fan, so I sent him an email as I've just returned from Cubs Spring Training in Arizona. He wanted an update on the team.
So we still have that.
And AT&T won the battle and the war. It turns out, the numerous calls to my voicemail are part of a diabolical scheme that the phone company has set up. When someone calls me and I don't answer, the phone forwards the call to my voicemail system. THIS IS CONSIDERED A PHONE CALL!!
I spoke to an AT&T representative and he explained that since I didn't pick a phone plan (excuse me, but 10 years ago, you just called the phone company upon moving in and asked what your new number was. There was no such thing as 'picking a plan.'), I was paying for each individual call.
What a load of crap!
Anyhoo, the rep suggested a plan where I would have unlimited local calls (duh!) and my costs would go down substantially. They get less $$$ and I get less frustration.
I'm going to call it a tie.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Do I really want to do this?
It's not like I don't have a lot on my plate already...what with fighting with AT&T, working out 5+ days a week (yay me!), eating almost every meal at home (read: cooking a LOT), preparing to go to Arizona for a week, and, oh yes, trying to start my own business.
Guess somewhere in my psyche, there was a millimeter of space that was itching for some activity. What kind of monkey wrench can I throw in here? I know! I'll look up an old boyfriend! That usually wreaks all kinds of havoc!
(I'm going to refer to him as "The Brown," which is what he nicknamed his gigantic Oldsmobile back in the day.)
Unlike most women who do crazy shit like this, The Brown wasn't an a-hole whom I'm glad to be rid of. Far from it! It was one of those situations where we were right for each other but the timing was wrong. Him: a soon-to-graduate college senior. Me: a freshman.
'nuff said.
We had some tiny, maybe inconsequential, but odd things in common: He was from a large Catholic family (just like me). He was the last boy and had one younger sister. I am the last girl and the next older is a brother (with the same first name as The Brown). We both suffered through winter birthdays as ours were almost exactly one month apart.
I'd guess you could use a Hollywood phrase and call him 'my one great love.'
Can you have a great love at 17? I don't know. Ask Romeo and Juliet.
But I digress...
Do you ever have those low periods in your life when you think back to better times? Times when you'd give anything to be back in those more innocent days? It's during those times that I remember this guy and how sweet he was to me.
No, I never pictured us married with kids or anything like that. I was very young at the time and had had very little dating experience, so this kind, gentle, caring guy was perfect for me. Maybe we would've crashed and burned if we stayed together. Who knows?
Still.
I'll admit that over the years, I've checked the school's alumni newsletter for his name (nope) or, more recently, even thrown a dart at Facebook. His (very common) name came up more than 500 times!
So the other night, while trying to squeeze a discount for a rental car from my university's alumni website, I got the crazy urge to look him up in the online alumni directory. Okay, it's been more than 20 years since we saw each other and I haven't even thought of him in at least a few years.
I located a listing for a guy with the same name, but he lives in California. Hmmn... I do remember The Brown getting a job in California not long after college.
What the hell! So I send an email with some pertinent facts about The Brown, just to see if this is indeed the same guy.
It's HIM!
I don't use Gmail, AOL, Yahoo or any of a hundred other providers for my personal email, I use Earthlink. God only knows how they stay in business because I don't know too many other people that use Earthlink.
Except The Brown.
Guess somewhere in my psyche, there was a millimeter of space that was itching for some activity. What kind of monkey wrench can I throw in here? I know! I'll look up an old boyfriend! That usually wreaks all kinds of havoc!
(I'm going to refer to him as "The Brown," which is what he nicknamed his gigantic Oldsmobile back in the day.)
Unlike most women who do crazy shit like this, The Brown wasn't an a-hole whom I'm glad to be rid of. Far from it! It was one of those situations where we were right for each other but the timing was wrong. Him: a soon-to-graduate college senior. Me: a freshman.
'nuff said.
We had some tiny, maybe inconsequential, but odd things in common: He was from a large Catholic family (just like me). He was the last boy and had one younger sister. I am the last girl and the next older is a brother (with the same first name as The Brown). We both suffered through winter birthdays as ours were almost exactly one month apart.
I'd guess you could use a Hollywood phrase and call him 'my one great love.'
Can you have a great love at 17? I don't know. Ask Romeo and Juliet.
But I digress...
Do you ever have those low periods in your life when you think back to better times? Times when you'd give anything to be back in those more innocent days? It's during those times that I remember this guy and how sweet he was to me.
No, I never pictured us married with kids or anything like that. I was very young at the time and had had very little dating experience, so this kind, gentle, caring guy was perfect for me. Maybe we would've crashed and burned if we stayed together. Who knows?
Still.
I'll admit that over the years, I've checked the school's alumni newsletter for his name (nope) or, more recently, even thrown a dart at Facebook. His (very common) name came up more than 500 times!
So the other night, while trying to squeeze a discount for a rental car from my university's alumni website, I got the crazy urge to look him up in the online alumni directory. Okay, it's been more than 20 years since we saw each other and I haven't even thought of him in at least a few years.
I located a listing for a guy with the same name, but he lives in California. Hmmn... I do remember The Brown getting a job in California not long after college.
What the hell! So I send an email with some pertinent facts about The Brown, just to see if this is indeed the same guy.
It's HIM!
I don't use Gmail, AOL, Yahoo or any of a hundred other providers for my personal email, I use Earthlink. God only knows how they stay in business because I don't know too many other people that use Earthlink.
Except The Brown.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
AT&T battle, Round 2
AT&T billing time frame: January 11 to February 10. AT&T's total number of local calls: 29.
After last month's billing fiasco, I wasn't taking any chances. Beginning January 25 (the day an AT&T technician arrived at my high-rise building, spoke to me and then left without doing anything), I have started to list the calls made from my phone including the time, date, call recipient and length of call.
My time frame: January 25 to February 10. Total number of local calls: 5.
Hmmn? So, does anyone REALLY think I made 24 calls in 14 days considering my lack of home phone activity?
Yeah, me neither.
So I emailed AT&T to get another detailed call list. A very nice representative named Mamie responded within 24 hours and said she'd be happy to mail out a list of my calls...for a $3 charge.
Um, no, I don't think so. I very nicely explained the January billing issue and Mamie agreed to withdraw the extra charge.
Nice girl, that Mamie.
So, now I wait.
After last month's billing fiasco, I wasn't taking any chances. Beginning January 25 (the day an AT&T technician arrived at my high-rise building, spoke to me and then left without doing anything), I have started to list the calls made from my phone including the time, date, call recipient and length of call.
My time frame: January 25 to February 10. Total number of local calls: 5.
Hmmn? So, does anyone REALLY think I made 24 calls in 14 days considering my lack of home phone activity?
Yeah, me neither.
So I emailed AT&T to get another detailed call list. A very nice representative named Mamie responded within 24 hours and said she'd be happy to mail out a list of my calls...for a $3 charge.
Um, no, I don't think so. I very nicely explained the January billing issue and Mamie agreed to withdraw the extra charge.
Nice girl, that Mamie.
So, now I wait.
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