Back by popular demand ( = two people making indirect comments about the fact I haven’t written much recently), I have decided to start blogging again.
[Side note: Screw the proliferation of emoticons. It looks like I’m making a weird smiley face two lines up instead of beginning a parenthetical thought that happens to include an “=” sign. Sigh.]
The plan is to update every Thursday, maybe more. We’ll see.
So I have lived in Chicago for over two weeks and how does it feel, you ask? Well, it feels great/exciting/FRIGHTENING/new. And some more things.
I’m living in a lovely apartment in Bucktown (or is it Buck Town?) with a new, bright red wall in the living room and a Christmas tree in the window. The red wall is covering up a poop-colored wall left us by the previous tenants who have STILL not gotten a change of address, which means their mail comes every freaking day. I’m an honest person, but if they ask again about whether “more mail” has arrived–I’m going to keep mum about the latest copy of the Economist that came today. Finders keepers.
The main attraction of our domicile is the kitchen. Boy, oh, boy, it’s great. I’m talking marble countertops and hard wood floors great. I’m talking space and windows that let in the morning AND afternoon sun. What? How? I don’t know–it’s magical. Today I used our countertop for the first time. I made khinkali (Georgian dumplings) that morphed into pan-Caucasian dumplings by the end of the experiment when I ran out of the mushroom filling and had to switch to a caramelized onion/goat cheese deal (AWFUL, I know!). They are sitting in the freezer now, but I’ll let y’all know if they turn out anywhere near decent.
So, you ask, what are the downsides of this dwelling? Well, numero uno would be the entry way and the fact that our neighbor obviously smokes there. It’s gross. Why if you smoke must you smoke inside? I know that Chicago’s cold, but suck it up with that smoke and just go outside. Puh-lease.
In other slight downsides…I was propositioned the other day not too many blocks from our house. I was walking to the Roberto Clemente Post Office (details are fun), minding my own business, looking not-like-a-prostitute and was approached by a man saying “Sex. How much for sex?” I was so SHOCKED that I gave him a confused look, almost like I didn’t understand English, and walked away. But the good news is that the area immediately around our place is pretty nice. Lots of dogs. Even more babies. It’ll work.
In other news, it’s Christmas time! Christmas is ery’where in Chicago. Trees! Lights! Tacky commercialism! It’s great. Though I have been something of a grinch in years past, I fully intend to embrace the yuletide spirit this year. I’ve even got a stack of Winnie the Pooh Christmas cards to prove it.
It helps that I’m spending my time making cookies and whoopi pies. Yeah, that’s right, I’ve finally wheedled my way into a commercial kitchen (a commercial kitchen where people make tamales!). I’m not sure that I could do food prep/baking for very long because I like nice-looking, uncomfortable shoes a lot more than I thought and all of this standing stuff is for the birds. But it’s nice as a seasonal employment kind of thing.
Well, this had been a completely undirected ramble. You’re welcome. I promise the next one will have a point. Laterz.