Discombobulation Station

Texas and Some City Stuff

I can't say enough how much I enjoyed Texas. I don't know what I was expecting, but what I got is basically what you would get if you programmed the Star Trek fantasy room* to create for me the perfect Texas weekend. Herein is my proof that the entire atmosphere was made up for my benefit.

We landed and SH picked us up in a pickemuptruck with her ranch dog, Picarino, in tow, outfitted in a neckerchief for our amusement. We were a little peckish and found ourselves a Chick-Fil-A and got to eat it in the car! Next we pulled up to the most charming Texas ranch, which we reached by a series of private seeming roads with many a cow-barrier**. When we got in I took a quick nap while everyone else settled in and had some drinks. I missed the sight of motoboy pulling lettuce and radishes for our dinner, but there is photographic evidence of such. We had a lovely meal of pulled pork cooked on the BBQ and later, a nice vista of all the farmland from the porch. Again, totally arranged for my viewing pleasure, must be.

I remember when I was in fifth grade, I had this lazy afternoon daydream that I suddenly believed was my new reality. I'm sure we've all had this delusion at some point, whether it be a result of college drug binges or too much time alone etc. I was surely convinced that I was the only living breathing human and everything around me was now constructed for me to experience, and perhaps someone or something out there was monitoring my advancement. No, you never thought this yourself?

At any rate, I was feeling this again, but much more pleasantly so, in Texas. Driving through the little main street of Fredericksburg, with its antique shops and glass shops and candle shops, it was as if someone had created the perfect little Hill country town for our amusement. We climbed a big old giant rock that looked like the surface of Mars, thanks Disney-Texas! We went to a lovely little farm house restaurant called the  Herb Garden where a little orange kitty kept getting chased out (and sneaking back in) and we ate delicious locally grown foods flavored with herbs from outside the window. Then we drove out to Luchenbach, an an entire town that consists of a dance hall, a bar, a gift shop and an outdoor hat shop and stage. Thank you German settlers for constructing something so perfectly Texas and quaint for me! We had a few bottles of beer and I danced with my sweetie, then he had a little more beer  and we got better, and we all generally enjoyed the open air and all the really talented two-steppers in the crowd. Also, motoboy bought a hat from a man with a  wonderful Texas twang who said that he had been making hats for over 20 years. Good casting SH!

Oh and they also had constructed these charming wineries for our enjoyment, we visited three of varying taste and style. The best one was the Becker winery, because it has a really grand tasting room and a generous amount of property. Our host had arranged for the Lavender Festival to be going on at the same time as our brief visit to the winery.  Delightful!

However, the whole Texas as my wild west fantasy playground thing was only dampened (literally) by the fact that us midwesterners brought our wet spring weather with us. But I have a feeling that the weather was also probably arranged (read: rain dance) by our hosts so as to throw me off the track of the perfect Texas weekend they had prepared in our honor. Ha! Fat chance! I got you guys good!

So what I really learned was this - Texas is awesome and if I had to go live there for a job or something I wouldn't mind too much. As long as I can live in this nice hill country place of which I know.

So back in the city, Friday night came along and I had guest passes to go see Peaches at the Metro. I haven't really been following her career but I remember when she first came out with a few tunes, and she had done a fun collaboration with Iggy Pop which is on a comp mix that comes up on my ipod. I got MCWMMQ (sorry darlin I can't remember all your names) to come with me, we got some $7 beers and settled into one of my guaranteed spots in the Metro (not telling you where). But as we looked around the crowd, it became harder and harder to figure out who was there for what. I had expected a bunch of baby lesbians, who I love because they have really great fashion and are way cooler than I'll ever be. But in some reserved seats next to us was a table of middle aged to nearly senior citizen people, two couples. They had first caught our attention after Evil Beaver went off stage (they are so much like the music I used to play in my h.s. band I loved it), and this really weird one act came up called Drums of Death, a pudgy Scottish kid in jeans and a t-shirt and white face makeup, with a mac laptop and some mixers. He started playing really terrible electroclash while pumping his fists in the air. I felt like I was watching my brother on acid in his bedroom, pretending to be some sort of DJ in outer space. However, one of the ladies at the table next to us got up and started suburban mom dancing her heart out, and she danced her ass off for the entire show. I just stood there with my mouth agape, looking around, looking at the stage and not being able to comprehend what the hell was going on. This was further exacerbated by a crowd of artsy types who decided to come to my secret spot and stand in front of us. There was a tall Hare Krishna looking dude who was wearing a long canvas skirt (hope he didn't walk home through Wrigleyville) and some more baby lesbians who were on first dates and some artsy non-profit looking types. MCWMMQ & I moved to an elevated spot behind the old people dancing, wherein the kinder older gentleman with the white mustache moved two of the chairs aside and motioned us to step through closer to the railing. This, however had not been cleared with his gentleman companion who came back and proceeded to move chairs onto our feet and put his back directly in front of my nose etc etc. I went to go get a beer and when I came back MCWMMQ informed me that not only did this guy continue to shove her around, but then he got security to come over and demand that everyone in front of him sit down so his party could sit in their seats and enjoy the show! Metro security humored him which makes me wonder who the heck he is because they are more likely to tell someone to feck off. So MCWMMQ and I decide to go back downstairs to get the full Peaches flavor, as she seemed to be putting on a really fantastic show with lots of costume changes. However, downstairs there seemed to be some sort of frat party going on, people just passing beers and shouting. These Lincoln Park types were mixed in with a smattering of people who looked like they drove in from rural Indiana. As soon as her show was done I told MCWMMQ that I would be outside as I was just too thoroughly confused. Even one of the bouncers, who I used to serve coffee to in college when he was a straight edged punk layabout, came by and confided in me, "this is a really fucking weird crowd tonight."

So am I old, or is the city harder to figure out than Texas? This is supposed to be my territory. Hrmm.

xo

E.

*need help remembering what this was called

**also not sure if this is the right term

BONUS:

If you haven't witnessed the facebook phenomenon, here is footage of SW shooting her first shotgun. Enjoy!

Gender, Issues

* Before Addie was born I swore she would not be a little Pepto-Princess. No pink stuff! I decreed, and painted her room green. No super-girly stuff! I swore, and put all the pink clothes and frilly dresses my amazingly generous friends sent into a storage box.

Of course now, less than two months later, on any given day you can find the girlchild in a carefully coordinated little-pink-sweater-over-pink-striped-dress-over-pink-flowery-pants-with-pink-butterfly-socks ensemble. While I, her formally high-heeled and be-suited mother, pull on whichever pair of jeans I didn't wear yesterday and the shirt with the least leaked milk/drool on it.

*New pet-peeve: singers who change the pronouns of cover songs to suit their gender. No, it is NOT "Every little thing he does is magic." My former fifth graders might have said OMG UR SO GAY CUZ YOU SAID "SHE."

But I think most of us would appreciate an unadulterated cover, or at least not give a flying flip if the singer is SO GAY.

* Last night I was bringing the tomato seedlings in and spotted a little furry thing on the floor. EEK! I shrieked, just like a cartoon lady spotting a mouse. But it wasn't a mouse, it was a mole that our big grey cat kilt and left as a gift to us. The FYD came over, made various gagging sounds,  and suggested that we 1-2-3-shoot to determine who would have to pick it up. Without even thinking, I said, But you're the MAN!

Yes, you may take back my feminist card, but at least I didn't have to touch the dead mole.

xoxo, A

Rhymes with "Hurt"

Howdy all. Yea, we pronounce "howdy" 'cause E. is in Texas at the moment, doing Texas-y things like dancing the two-step and drinking wine.  Can't wait for the full story on that.

Meanwhile, back at my ranch - actually a farmhouse, but whatever - we have just barely survived the infamous 6-week growth spurt.  I had just started to see the light at the end of the every 3-hour night feedings tunnel (one time, I got FIVE HOURS of sleep!) when suddenly our little ray of sunshine turned into a gaping maw of WAHHHHHHUNGRY. 

It started on Saturday. She slept and slept, except for two periods of delightfulness - one of which is captured on video because she was having a dance party (which will never be shown here because I was also in on the party).  The FYC and I even went out to dinner. It was a pretty good day. But then Sunday. Oh how I was not prepared for Sunday. Every two hours she would scream and choke and look glassy-eyed and cry and her naps lasted 15-30 minutes. She got panda-rings under her eyes but would NOT sleep. I swear she grew out of her shirt, like the teeniest little Hulk. And then Sunday night she woke up every 3 hours on the dot. And then yesterday, oh how I almost lost my shit: cry cry cry eat, catnap for 15 minutes, cry cry cry eat. All day long. We tried the sling, the swing, the bath, the stroller. Nothing would stop her from crying except being on the boob. I was almost ready to tell the FYC to fix up a bottle of FUCKING FORMULA because I just felt like I couldn't satisfy her and didn't know what else to do. But finally...at 8:45 last night, she fell asleep. And slept until 1 am. Bliss. She woke at 4 am and 7 am to eat, and now she is sleeping like a wee angel in her wee swing.  BLISS.

And as your reward for reading through all this oh-my-baby wah-wah, here is the most adorablest story of an adorable banker rescuing some adorable duck babies.

With that I wish you all a day free of spurts -

xoxo, A

My Downtown World

I have to admit I really liked my last freelance job partly for one reason: I was absolutely delighted with the building I went to work in every day.  

The Wrigley Building on Chicago's touristy-named "Magnificent Mile" just looks fucking delicious from every angle.  It's actually composed of two towers that are connected by a two short pedestrian bridges, on the 14th floor and the 3rd floor, which also forms a cool sort of windblocker of windows underneath it.  According to the internets, the building was the first office building constructed north of the river in the 20s, built by William Wrigley Jr. to house his offices. It was designed by the local architecture firm of Graham, Anderson, Probst & White (Burnham's legacy) taking inspiration for the tower from Seville's cathedral, and using Renaissance touches throughout. I worked in the north tower, which felt newer even though it was built only three years after the south tower was in 1921. If you took the footbridge to the south tower (as I did once to get my building pass from management) you noticed a discernible difference in the hallway decor. Perhaps because these were Wrigley managed floors, everything had more of an old school Chicago feel - the wooden doors with the gold painted square letters that demarked "janitorial" and so on. Love love love it.

As I exit the building, either to walk to a session (everything is so much more convenient when you start at 410 N. Michigan) or to cross the street to go to the Equitable Building's cafeteria (which is only so-so, but cheap and the only thing around), I am greeted by this  lovely couple, always surrounded by a throng of tourists getting their picture taken with them. Ah, American Gothic. Our own set. Now the Equitable Building, as you can see in the background, I can do without. I did a temp job there once in the late 90s, working for a non-profit all about hand health, and the job nearly gave me carpal tunnel, and the office was dark and cold.

However, just north of the Equitable building is yet another historic landmark - the Tribune Tower. Although the paper is going downhill, riddled with typos and bad writing, this building will always stand for what the monolithic newspaper business used to be. The design of the Tribune Tower was the result of a contest called for by the Tribune company, which resulted in a great deal of interesting entries, the winner of which was this very Gothic building by a team of New Yorkers called Hood and Howells, who are immortalized above the main entrance's doors by images of Robin Hood and a howling dog.  A lot of the tourists like to take pictures of the far flung and historical bricks that are built right into the building's facade. Owner Colonel McCormick had asked his foreign correspondents to bring back samples of the world, and you can see pieces of stone from the Taj Mahal, the Parthenon, the Palace of Windsor, the Great Pyramid and the Alamo. 

Another randomly fun thing to do is cross the river at Michigan! Either to go to my bank , which is still  over in the AON building which I have a fondness built of seven years employment, or to just pop over to the corner bakery and get lunch. This bridge is known as a bascule (French, for seesaw and balance) type bridge and has helped populate what is now known as a "Chicago style bascule." When it was completed it was the main link between the north and south parts of town, having replaced the Rush street bridge as part of Burnham's 1909 Plan of Chicago. Also, when you walk across it, it bounces!

Some other buildings I got to visit in my travels:

The Playboy (aka Palmolive Building)

      

Courthouse Place @ 54 W. Hubbard (completed in 1893, housed the Cook County Criminal Courts for over 35 years)

      

I found good scooter parking near the newest piece of Chicago architecture, the Trump Tower. Everyone complained about it when it was going up, but it really isn't all that hard on the eyes, and the view from inside is divine. My favorite is seeing the Wrigley Building and tribune in the same vista. Because the ugly Sun-Times building was there for many years, this is an entirely new way to see the city.

      

Of course we can't forget my train stop every morning, the beautiful and imposing Merchandise Mart. When built in 1930 it was the largest building in the world, owned by the Marshall Field company to centralize Chicago's vendors. It was later bought by JFK's daddy and was in the Kennedy family's possession for over fifty years. Today it houses many wholesale showrooms, antique furniture shops and other retailers (including my housemate's place of work!)

So now its off for some well deserved travels, so upon my return I will appreciate my home town even more. Hopefully, summer will set in soon and I can put up pictures of the beach and motorcycles and road trips, oh my!

E.

Let's Be Friends

Everything I read about Heidi and Seal makes me want to hang out with them. How do you think we could make that happen? Without a restraining order?

xoxo, A

Chick Flick

Because we needed something else small and helpless to worry about...

Happy Friday - and Happy Spring!

xoxo, A

Proud of ME

Hurrah!

And how cute is the photo on the sidebar? Choked me right up. Maineaics (like most New England folk) are not known for overt or public displays of affection, but this is one occasion where it is more than appropriate, methinks.

Next, New Hampshire!

xoxo, A

Had to Happen Sometime

My mother was 25 when she had me - a full decade younger than I am now. So she must have only been just barely in her 30s when I have this memory of looking at her, looking at her hands, while she was sitting in the living room of our old house.  She was surely doing something - putting together a paper chain for our Christmas tree, brushing my brother's hair - something motherly.  I looked at her hands, so different from my chubby grubby little kid's hands, and thought: how does Mommy know she's grown-up?  I thought there must be some magical event, some birthday, some thing everyone did to become "grown up," at least the way my mommy and daddy appeared grown-up to me.

Now I know what it happened to my mom's  hands, because, somehow, now mine look like hers. Staring at the rise and fall of a little chest in a wooden cradle. Cradling a tiny face against your breast.  Turning around in the driver's seat at every stoplight just to touch a tiny hand. With my newly grown-up hand.

Now don't get me wrong - people of course can be grown-up without having a baby, but that isn't how it worked for me. I was a kid walking around in a grown-up costume until now. The costume is off and it's just growns-up old me, rocking a baby to sleep, holding a pacifier, wiping a bum, over and over and over. What took me so long?

xoxo, A