Oh my achin' back!

No, seriously, my back hurts. The inside of the truck as it was being unloaded.
What? You have lots of book too I'm sure.

My legs hurt too.
The stairwell that we had to come up.
As far as stairwells go, it's a bit scary.
And smelly.
The good thing about living on the top floor? Not having to listen to people clomp about above you. The bad things about living on the top floor? Lots of stairs.

Out the window of the new place waiting to unload the car.
Some of my new neighbors. They helped carry things a bit and checked out the apartment. (It was a bit sad when one of the boys remarked on how Big! and Clean! everything was - clean yes but the place is pretty small...)
I made sure they got some of the celebratory pizza.Some of the fabulous people that helped me move enjoying Chicago-style pizza.
Many thanks to Minty for her help and her picture taking.

Now I just have to unpack it all.

Goodness

God is good.
All the time.

Sleep eludes

Actually, I'm ready to crash. It's around 1:30...

I just went through two boxes that I haven't gone through for almost three years and consolidated down to one. A lot of it was old letters and cards. I found cards from my Abuelita for various holidays and notes from people I haven't seen in ages. My old roommate from when I first moved to the area sent me several postcards from around the world, still making me smile. Cards from people that are meaningful, consistently. I even found a dollar!


This morning on my commute, I was 10 minutes away from work and realized that this would be the last time I would make that trip. Weird...

Tomorrow I pick up the keys and have copies made. I finish throwing things in my bedroom into boxes and clothes into trash bags. I'll probably stop by the beach too while I'm up there. And maybe I'll get to have lunch with Minty. Good times...

Today at work pretty much sucked. I've got soooo much to do and I feel as though things are slipping through the cracks. Actually, it's not just a feeling, it's a fact. Things that should have been done were not and so I'm having difficulty playing detective in three or four different cases a day.

Random thought today: Why would you have a tattoo that other people have? Unless it's a sign of membership or something... I don't get the idea of picking a design from dozens on a parlor wall.

OK I'm done. How's all that for random?

Happy Friday Everyone!

Moving is hard.
You probably know that, eh?

Physically hard - the packing, the trashing, the lifting and loading.

Emotionally hard - in a myriad of ways. Just last night M. (my roommate for the past 2.5 yrs) remarked that I was the person she's lived with the longest (beyond her family). Just two minutes ago, I realized that this is true for me as well. It's been a good situation for the most part. We've become friends and it's been fun sharing a place with her. I think we balance each other out quite a bit and have learned from one another. And we allowed for plenty of space. I will miss that. We also threw some kick-ass parties.

Thankfully, I have many good friends and we all try to make moving a little easier for one another. Friends that come and help with the packing:Friends that have committed to helping with the move. Honestly, I was freaking out a bit just yesterday with the whole move thing. Fewer responses to the lifting requests than I really hoped for. But today things are a bit sunnier.

It's going to happen.

Now if I can just get the electricity thing worked out... There seems to be a glitch in the online transfer system ComEd people.

I'm sending you away

Dave at Blogography is celebrating his blogiversary. If you don't read him, I don't know why. He's funny and sweet and makes fun cartoons. Which, today, he is featuring on his site. Vote on your favorite cartoon to be made into a t-shirt and get a $10 coupon for a t-shirt of your very own once the winner is determined. I have mine from last year and I love it.

Reactionaries

Today at my departmental meeting it was announced that I'll be getting a promotion. I knew this, of course. As did my boss lady and boss man.

First, let me say, it's about damn time.

Now that that is out of the way...

Several people were really excited for me. People that like me. A couple of people had nothing to say to me after the meeting ended. I could have just been made president of the university and they would have been less than congratulatory.

I knew it would be like that. I knew that the people who found me threatening before (for good reason, I'm scary) would continue to do so. The people that find me helpful and smart and congenial, they are excited for me. I've been waiting for this day to see what people's reactions would be. They did not fail.

Leaking

If I were honest with myself I would realize that all this change is making me a little crazy. It's making me quite anxious. If I were honest with myself and thought more about the choices that I've made recently I would wonder if they were the right choices. Did I think about them enough before running away? Am I running away?

If I were honest with myself I would admit that all this moving, not just mine, but the moving of several people in my inner circle, hurts quite a lot. Realizing that people won't just stop by because they are in the neighborhood or want to grab a quick bite together before ___ or to mooch internet access or to sing and pray. They won't be by to see someone I live with and I get the happy chance meeting with them. I won't be in their neighborhood anymore. I will be separated from My People by a significant amount of time, whether that be one hour or several. I will not get to sit out on the porch with my roommates and friends laughing uproariously as we did tonight. I will not have roommates, nor will I have a porch.

If I were honest with myself and those around me there would be an endless stream of tears, not because I'm so sad, just so overwhelmed with new things coming and old, wonderful things going. As it is, only a few tears leak out now and again, mostly when I am not busy with the packing or the playing or the visiting. When I stop and breathe and just try to Be, that's when the tears betray how I feel. That's when I start to leak.

Interview, pt. II

Eric responds to the questions I sent him.
Check it.

One week

Not this Saturday but next, I will be loading up my material world and moving it to the north side. I know, you people are probably tired of me talking about this. Heck, I'm tired of me talking about this fracking move. Why can't it be done already? But motivation exists all around me.

As I start to pull some of my dishes from circulation (mostly my dishes being used right now, except for the twenty thousand mugs that are in the cabinet for some unknown reason) interesting things have been showing up. And I wish I had pictures.

Because, people, I like to think that I have a certain style to my things. They are nice. Nice to look at, nice to use, fun and functional things. The replacements that have started showing up? They are mostly functional. And I'm glad this stuff hasn't made an appearance until now.

Also? I'll be needing a microwave. And a dish rack. And new hooks for the backs of doors. And a futon. So you all can come and hang out at the beach and have a place to crash and so I'll have somewhere to watch TV. Right now I've got a rocking chair...

Reality, pt II

There was a nagging voice in the back of my brain (what, you don't hear voices regularly?) and I finally acted on it today. It was saying "Doesn't J__ work at a school somewhere in VA?" That voice kept getting louder and so I had to look it up on the alumni web page (gotta love those alumni dollars at work. Instant access to everyone who ever went there).

It was confirmed.

A good friend of mine works at Virginia Tech. In biomedical engineering.

Then I started freaking out a little bit at work.

He's fine. At least I'm pretty sure he is. I'll have to send him email to make sure.

Scary stuff.

Good Hair Day

At least it was when I looked in the mirror this morning.

Interview Questions from the Minty

1. Human race. Inherently good or inherently evil?
I probably would not have answered this way two years ago, but inherently, at the core, good. If I buy into the notion that Christ was the most fully actualized human, the best example of what it means to be human, I have to believe that we are made for good things. We started off good in the garden, and that's what we're working ourselves back to in the end, not the other way around. Where in the heck did all this faith in humanity come from? I don't like people... Damn. I guess this means that I should at least try to now.

2. What event in your life are you most proud of?
Huh... the only things that I can think of are times when I've gotten myself out of bad situations/relationships. So, yeah, cutting myself off from a good friend from college when I moved to the Chi because it was co-dependent and I didn't need to feel like shit every time I got off the phone with said friend. Or getting myself into counseling and on anti-depressants when I was in college because I knew my head was f-ed up at the time. I'm less so now, if you can believe it.

3. Would you cut off your middle finger for five million dollars? (The money is tax-free, and the lopping would be done in a safe manner.)
Hell yeah! Prosthetic middle finger could be purchased and I would be capable of doing many things with the money. Seems like an easy answer to me. Is that wrong? I certainly wouldn't be able to type as efficiently or send messages to my fellow drivers as easily.

4. If you could turn back time and go off on someone who skated when they wronged you, who would it be and why?
I honestly don't know that I have an answer to this question. Maybe the woman my dad had an affair with? I thought she was wonderful and loved her and her family very much (before the shit hit the fan) so it was a huge betrayal, not just for my mom but for the rest of us as well.

5. Describe your favorite meal.
Is this a favorite meal that I've had, like a particular event? Because if it is, my 25th birthday party stands out as an excellent meal and fabulous time. My friends threw me a lovely sit down, fancy dinner party with different courses and stuff and people were supposed to dress up. I wore a flower in my hair. There was entertainment in the form of readings so one person bought me the Dr. Seuss book Happy Birthday to You and someone else read it and someone wrote an original poem about the awesomeness of my first cat who did backflips at the time (he's a little long in the tooth now, but still curls up nicely beside me when I blog at home). I honestly don't know what we had but I'm sure it was tasty because my friend cooking is a fabulous cook. I have lovely friends.

So, now you know more about me and I've shared some heavy shizznit with y'all. Wanna be in on it? First person saying "interview me" gets the questions. Because I'm just not that creative people.

1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me."

2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.

3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.

4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.

5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

Reality

Reality; sometimes it kicks you in the gut so hard that you lose your breath.

Yesterday 33 people died on a college campus.

Half of my immediate family and several of my friends work on college campuses, not just at my place of employment, but around the country. Other friends are still in university at varying levels.

This is scary stuff. It could happen to me or my father or any of my friends.

I can't help but feel horrible for the man who did this, wonder what happened to him to bring him to this point and ponder what could others have done around him to prevent this from happening. How do I contribute to a feeling of warmth and openness to the students that I deal with on a daily basis. Do I make them feel safe? Loved? Respected? I hope the answer most times is yes. I know it isn't always.

Anger

Sometimes I surprise myself with my anger.

Yesterday I was angry because one of my roommates had broken my beautiful red travel mug. The only travel mug I own. But, also, the travel mug that I had gotten from the unclaimed lost and found at work. I paid nothing for this mug but I was angry that it had been broken and nobody bothered to tell me. I guess there was a conversation and the girl who owns most of the travel mugs (minus mine) said "Oh, that's OK. I own lots of them" to the other girl who broke it. I get angry when my pans go missing. They go missing because one of my roommates takes them to other places to cook in. Or takes cooked things over on/in them. I was livid when a teacup that my grandmother had painted showed up with a chip in it. But that was different; it was something irreplaceable. All those other things? Easily replaced. Or easily done without. I don't bake much or cook much or take my travel mug out traveling very often. One time a handmade pillow cover showed up clearly stained by red wine; I don't drink red wine.

Things like this make me angry. It seems silly, but not at the time. Yesterday I was angry and then I was disappointed at myself for being angry. But I was still angry.

Part of my disappointment is this attachment to things. Things that really don't have much to do with my life, except to make it easier in some way. Just crap that I don't need. Just a thing. Not an ideal. Not a person. Not a cause. Just a thing.

Lying in a ditch somewhere...

My brother doesn't call my parents very often. Actually he text messages my dad about games and such, so I think Dad deals with this better. But for my mother, if she doesn't hear from us for a week or two, she is quite convinced that something catastrophic has happened. We were in an accident and lying in a ditch somewhere. Or something equally horrific. That's my mom.

I'm turning into her. My handwriting even looks quite a bit like hers. My K's particularly. Probably because she has great K's and I purposefully modeled my K after hers. Anyways...

I was supposed to hear about the apartment Wednesday.

I waited through Wednesday.

Then I waited through Thursday.

Yesterday afternoon I became convinced that the silence meant "Sorry lady. No apartment for you." I have been all weepy for the past twenty-four hours wondering where the hell I am going to live after declaring "I can't take living with three other women anymore. I'm moving." Just this morning I had a chat with my landlord about the security deposit issue. And the "I'm going to live by the Beach!!!" belief in my head which made uprooting myself from my darling friends whom I adore hurt just a wee bit less. I was wondering what the hell I did to my credit lo, those five or six years ago when paying the rent was about all I could do (and what I could have done better to repair it).

Last night the credit check check showed up on my online account dealie as having gone through. I became even more convinced that I would be living in a place that I shared with the non-paying, six-legged type of tenant. And, of course the kitties.

And I finally called the apartment guy, Luke, this morning right when I got into work. I thought that even if he told me "No" at least I would have a definitive answer and I could move on with the apartment search instead of wondering when he would call and what the answer would be. He didn't answer his phone. Didn't return the call. Until 15 minutes ago.

So much like my mother am I, convinced that silence means something bad.

Except it doesn't always.

Because I have a place to live a block from the beach!

There are reasons. Good reasons

Abuelito was a pastor. He went to a Baptist seminary where he met my abuelita. They got married and went to work. The husband of her Cuca (the aunt that raised her) persuaded Abuelito to change denominations - he too was a pastor - to the American Baptist denomination. Why? Because Brown folk weren't treated so well by those Southern Baptists.

Fast forward a few decades. Hannita is an impressionable high school senior who has just moved to a new city. A new city where only a few protestant congregations hold services in English. The one that wasn't a little too kooky for the parents and sizable enough was Southern Baptist. So that's where I went for a year before I headed off for school. They did such a good job that I left for school without a Bible - because I thought I didn't want to have anything to do with God or Christianity at that point. It took me a few months to realize it had more to do with the church and the misogynist that served as pastor there than with God.

My mother had to be at that church much longer. She couldn't join it or teach or volunteer in any way, even though she wanted to. Yeah, Quakers are still treated like crap (remember The Witch of Blackbird Pond)?

Currently women are being pushed out of the Southern Baptist academe - because women shouldn't teach. And women should obey their husbands and keep quiet in church and not show their ankles.

So, yes, I have something against those folks.

Afternoon fun

Tears. Tears when I first saw this.
Clickety click.
You'll thank me.

Stupidity

It really did start out innocently enough. A simple text message to a couple of friends as to whether they would be at house group. One ignores me. Typical. The other proceeds to reply. And then ask a question.

I should not be allowed to drive. Because texting and driving at the same time = stupid & difficult.

Advice...

My ex-OA emailed me just now and said

"I hate being new at a job because I feel dumb...just had to get that off my chest."

My response to her was

"Yes, you will feel dumb. And six months from now something rather catastrophic (at least you think it's catastrophic but it really isn't) will happen and you will say 'but no one ever told me about that' But you aren't dumb and no one told you about it. And it will get better. Promise."

I should keep that on file for myself.

I felt very busy this weekend.
Thursday night apartment seeing and rehearsal.
Friday I didn't have work but I had several appointments to see apartments. All the way up north. North North North. About as north in the city as one can go before getting out of the city.

Here's the pretty apartment building where I loved the apartment but not the neighbors...

See those Juliet balconies there in the middle? One of those could have been mine. Here's the type of fun inside the apartment that I kind of love. Fabulous vintage stuff.






Ah well.
Because this?
This is the beach that I hope to be a block from.Chicago is a glorious city and I can't believe that I'll actually be living in the city proper with a 606** zip code. With all the driving I did this weekend up and down LSD I got so many lovely views of the horizon.

It's so beautiful driving at night with the skyline all lit up. As you get closer to downtown Navy Pier juts in across the water and the Ferris wheel is all aglow. The Hancock tower with its twin antennae looms. Light reflects off of the water.

During the day the water looks bluer that it should off in the distance. The glass of the skyscrapers glimmers in the sun. Further south the museum and the domes of the planetarium and the aquarium. They are beautiful. Soldier Field underwent a renovation recently. No longer its old self, but, in my opinion, a visually appealing blend of the modern and classic architecture. Some have likened it to a spaceship. I just think it was a good thing.

I didn't know when I moved to Chicago almost nine years ago that I would stick; that the pattern my family had established of moving every few years wouldn't continue. I didn't know that I would love driving downtown or taking the train and the bus; that I would gain understanding of the Chicago grid system cutting down on the times I get lost. I didn't know that I would fall in love with the city and the people and the winter weather.

A Decision Made

Yesterday, Minty and I saw several apartments. She was lovely to join me in my rather lonely hunt. She missed the first one I saw, a gorgeous one bedroom with a juliet balcony with sliding glass doors. Very vintage with lots of built in customizations. So cute. Rather perfect. The only imperfect thing? The neighbors. The building is quite close to a college campus. And two nearby houses appear to be homes to fraternities. I know I'm getting old when this sounds more annoying than amusing.

The next place was a studio with, as Minty described it "good art karma". Very cute. A larger studio, a much quieter part of the neighborhood. But still, a studio. Fast forward a 20 minute wait for a guy who was clearly not on the ball and we found the next place. A one bedroom a block from the beach in a courtyard building. The place faces the train tracks, separated by a street. Initially I thought it would be extremely annoying but folks assumed me that it would be something that I would get used to pretty quickly. When I had some time to kill I parked by the train tracks and sat there seeing just how annoying it was. Honestly, not that bad.

So today, I met up with the rental person and put in my application.

Did I mention it's about a block from the beach? Because, you know,
IT'S ABOUT A BLOCK FROM THE BEACH!!!!
I'm a little excited about this fact.

So say a little prayer that things go through well and that I can feel happy and start getting the crap all packed up.

In his exuberance with the holy water...

This just in, the cardinal was blessing Easter baskets, and in his exuberance with the holy water, slipped and fell and fractured his hip.

That is not a joke.

Although mildly amusing.

My question: why was he blessing Easter baskets?

Urban Safari

No, I'm not talking about the coyote that decided to take a break in a Quiznos two day ago in downtown Chicago. I'm talking about the apartment hunt. Sigh. Yesterday I saw three apartments: 1 one bedroom, 2 studios. After living where I've lived for the past year+, a studio just seems cruel and awful. This is the realization that I'm coming to. Also, it is the most economical choice and what seems to appear most for my price range that I've given myself.

So, the two studios. One was teeny-tiny. The other decent-ish, except that it was in the midst of rehab. So imagining what it will look like in the end is rather difficult. No bathroom to speak of. Kitchen that was in desperate need of paint stripped off the cabinet doors. Water damage. All that fun stuff.

The one bedroom was decent sized. Except that it didn't seem to be the apartment that was described on Craiglist. And the occupant was angry that he was notified about 5 minutes before I showed up. Which is odd because I talked with the manager guy much earlier in the day and then was running 15 minutes of so late. So, he should have had at least 15 minutes notice... Apparently there is another apartment available with the same layout but he couldn't get ahold of the tenant to give him a heads up.

It's just hard to imagine yourself and your stuff amidst someone else's junk. Know what I mean?

Anyways, Minty is joining me for another round of looking today. I've got three or four lined up. Then we're off to a late lunch and then she gets to anticipate an exciting night out. I'm going back to church, which is where I was last night. Which is where I'll be tomorrow morning. And Sunday morning.

Last Day

It is my OA's last day. I am sad. Sad because I get attached to people that work in my office sometimes. Sad because it's like she's growing up (she came to our office as a student worker when she was a sophomore). Sad because she sings little songs and whistles and acts goofy, but not in a developmentally delayed way (there are those people around) but in a fun, young, happy, world is my oyster way. Sad because when scandalous things happen we can be like "Oh My God!..." You just can't do that with everybody.

Yes, a little sad because I'll have to do both of our jobs and then train someone new.

Sad because I'm still here.

The Dress

Because the link didn't work here's a picture of some friends at a baby shower.

That's my new dress.

Aren't we hott?

Here comes Peter Cottontail...

...hopping down the bunny trail
Some of you may be not at all surprised that I love to dye Easter eggs. Much like my Halloween pumpkin carving, it is a seasonal necessity. Saturday seemed as good a day as any to get down to business. It's a rather long process and takes several hours. Mostly because I am anal and have some perfectionist tendencies.


So... I bought two dozen eggs - 1 got boiled.
The other got blown out so I can keep them for a little while.


There were some issues with the whole adding vinegar to the dye thing. In that I thought we had some in the apartment and it took some digging to come up with this bottle. Yes, that reads "sell by March 2004".


So, eggs boiled and blown. Old vinegar found. Adding the vinegar to the dye tablets is fun because they are all fizzy. It's rather fun to watch.

The boiled eggs are dyed rather simply. Probably stickers or kid's markers on the outside would work.


But the blown eggs. Those are the fun ones.
Here is my roommate demonstrating the rubber glue technique that I found one year. You use the rubber cement as resist. It masks out the parts you want to keep white or a particular color if you do it in layers.

Then you let it dry. Patience is a virtue. Or so they've told me. So wait until the rubber cement dries.

Wait.

Wait.

After it is dry, put it in the color you want it. It will float so you kind of have to make it roll around in the color to get it completely covered. Take it out and let it dry again.

Then you can put another layer of cement on if you like. After it dries you can put it in a darker color. So there are two layers of color, plus the white.

The striped one I did just stripes on the egg and then after I had dyed it yellow, I put more rubber cement stripes over that part, just wider. Then I dyed it purple. So it's all fabulously stipey now. After you are done and it's all dry you can carefully peel off the rubber cement.

Also in that last picture, clearly, egg-dying, much more fun with drinks.