A Very Merry Unbirthday

I have been thinking about writing something here for several days now, but every time I open a blank page I remember something more important I needed to do. Like right now I am supposed to be eating a snack to tide me over until dinner and/or putting on makeup so I can leave the house. What I really want to be doing though is perfecting the chevron pattern for my crochet project so I can make that afghan I've been dreaming of for years.

(Note: I wrote this on January 22, the day before my birthday and actually got up to do those other things without finishing and posting. Sigh...)

01.10.10

The days are passing so quickly and yet the concept of dates on paper means so little to me these days. This one is interesting because it is rather binary. Dontcha.

I have been working. HA. Working. But it doesn't seem like working right now because it feels more like helping out some very loved family. And so the hours are not long, and the favors are not too big to ask and I will always say yes because I am safe here and it will always be ok. It is very different working for people who mean something to you. Ha ha! It is also full of trial and error. I am so passionate about things sometimes. They have to be PERFECT and RIGHT and I bump my head against the established business philosophy and the routine that has been in motion for much longer than I have been a part of it. I feel like I am out of line suggesting improvements to service and flow, and then at other times I am ready to fire someone for a minor infraction. I, however, have no power to hire or fire anyone so what right do I have getting indignant? None. But I shake my fists in the air nonetheless. And then I realize that it is just my job to help and that the more humble I am, the better everything will work. [Insert a little more fist shaking here] GRIN.

At home now after a brunch shift and I just fed the panthers so it smells like panther food in the house. The candles I lit are making no headway in masking the odeur. I bought a beer I don't like very much. I usually request that the bartender on duty suggest a flavorful option, but tonight I was on my own in a sea of micro-brews at the Whole Paycheck without a beer geek to help me out. It is amazing how the Craft Beer movement  has exploded in the last few years. Craft Food is gaining in popularity and force as well due to wonderful restaurants like those here in Milwaukee (Honeypie and Comet, Sala da Pranzo and Beans & Barley amongst others) who make it a point to purchase meats and produce from local farms and use high quality ingredients coupled with high class service in comfortable and affordable environments. This is one of the many reasons I love Milwaukee... and is one of the things I hope to be a part of in my life, if I am able to make a difference in  how people live. For the better.

As for India and travel plans, things are coming together slowly. I imagine that it will all happen at once. In one fell swoop I will book everything and pack my bags and be gone in a swirl of nervous energy and perfume (last chance to spritz with anything other than DEET for a while) and leave not much other than some really long blonde hairs and a sweater or two. And my heart? I am supposed to take my heart with me. It was left open and beaming almost a year ago when the object of my fire-hose style loving decided I was no longer needed and I decided that I WOULD NOT turn down the volume for anything. Enter the good children of LIFT who would infinitely benefit from it, far much more than any one man. And now here I am in Milwaukee and the quiet, uranium-like radiation by-product of my major focus has seeped into the home I am living in. For the first time in a year I am starting to feel attached, something I worked very hard not to feel for an unspecified time of transition. It makes me say "hm" and smoosh up my face into a grimace of quandry. Hm. HM.

And now I think I will do some writing with a pen instead of keys. Good night all, sweet dreams.

Act 2, Scene 1

It is interesting to be back in the vicinity of many people who happen to read this blog. As I am visiting with friends they mention things they have read and request the follow-up story, or the behind the scenes details on the little nuggets I provide in type-form here. I hadn't realized how oblivious I am to my readership. I just write like I always have, in a rambling dialogue to myself. Credit should go to Laurie Oliver who introduced me to the concept of journal writing when I was in sixth grade. She had a marble composition book, I think... if I remember correctly, and simply opened my eyes to the fact that I could write my thoughts down on paper. Just like that. We were sitting on the hillside by the dam at Aldeen park in the sunshine, a few of us lounging about probably skipping school, and the discussion about journals came up. I recall asking some incredulous questions such as "really? you just write down whatever you are thinking? you don't need a subject?" I must have been overly influenced by my smarty pants creative english classes or somehow hemmed in by the preconcieved notion that keeping a diary was supposed to be the dutiful logging of daily events (which is why it is called a diary). How binding. Laurie unlocked the door on that one and freed me to just ramble and ramble in spectacular ink on pretty bound pages of boring office supplies. Oh gleeful JOY!

The real point here is that I found out that my mom is reading it. Hadn't thought about that, but honestly now that I know, I am surprisingly very happy about it. I mean, she sleuthed the song lyrics in a previous post and is now familiar with the political rants of Public Image Limited. Dontcha. My aunt is also reading and sends occaisional breif words of support and wisdom when it seems to her like I am struggling. And yes I did go see mom last weekend. Two of my dearest Milwaukee friends found time to read this blog together while out one evening. I love that and I am jealous of their iPhones. Another anonymous reader told Santa Claus about the fountain pen I was pining after... There are other stories of encounters like this that make me smile and think. Thank you all for checking in.

Ok, what I really wanted to talk about here is the fact that it finally feels like chapter one of this adventure is wrapped up. Perhaps the first act of my entire life has just come to a close with a beautiful scene revolving around a dinner with my mom and one of her closest friends. I imagine the thick velvety curtian closing and blowing the snow around in little swirls, leaving a silence and a cosy backstage for me to snuggle up into and change out the scenery. These days behind the curtain have been filled with the sweet luxuries of the most divine royal existence you can imagine. Delicious feasts, showerings of gifts, downy cushions, plush velvets, magical and exotic entertainment, rejuvinating baths set to dreamy music, swedish massages, luxurious pet panthers and the unshakable feeling that I may in fact be a princess. In truth I am a girlscout and am itching to get my hands dirty. Today seems like the day that the curtain rises on Act 2. Time to get a move on the first adventures in making things and going places. Hot cha.

Little Bits of Mexico

I had some very sad little tacos today with a friend from the old office. They were pale replicas of their cousins in DF, but at least they had imported Mexican coke to wash them down. I know better places to get some. I have one guyaba left. I have to eat it tomorrow morning before it goes bad. I washed the last of the black pollution grime from behind my ears. Half of the billboards on the EL platforms are in Spanish. I saw some pictures in which friends were dressed like Katrinas for Halloween. Agt. 3L and I spoke over video last night. DF is starting to feel a little like a dream. Was I really there? Time has zippered itself up. I have been pinched back into Chicago like an errant piece of bread dough and while I feel more like I fit in here, I am afraid to loose my Mexicaness. I want to keep it and share it. It is sad, though, the Mexicans here don't love DF. They got out of that city and don't like to talk nostalgia about it. Maybe it is too hard to think of a place you are not going back to, or that you hate.

Chicago seems like a stage set; perfectly styled humans are sprinkled in here and there on the streets for effect.

Finally I get the Routine

So after a few days of hopelessly running around after a small child, trying to get him to do the things he has to do, I finally got him into bed at a reasonable hour. Not that he has been up THAT much past his bedtime, but seriously, he has been up past MY bedtime. Cause I'm looking at 8:30pm as a pretty viable time to start sleeping. I mean, it gets dark here at 4pm. By 8 it's like way late at night already. I miss adults. Ok, ok fine. I did have lunch with Varla, which included shopping at a very strange boutique in which we were showered upon with style consulting, assistance in and out of platform boots, difficult belts and zippers galore. It was a wild and fun time of celebrity attention. Too bad we don't have celebrity money. I spent way too much on the perfect pair of pants, but I will wear them into the ground. Let's calculate the relative value when they fall apart. They are Peruvian (I don't know what that means) but it sounds good and they make my tuckus look nice. NEXT.

A good friend of mine just launched a design website and I will be giving him a critique of it tomorrow night. I am super excited to be a bit hard on him. I know he's got the talent and the drive to get it done, but he needs it to be shaped up and perfected. I can help him with that. Those who can, do; and those who can't, critique. Dontcha. Besides, we love arguing together. Hot cha.

The rest of this week is a social extravaganza. I've got lunch tomorrow, and a critique at night. The Garfield Park Conservatory on Friday and then dinner afterward. Saturday morning return of the sister and the nephew and then on to RKFD for a drive by mom sighting then up nort' to witness the xmas lounge singers at the restaurant and then more lunch with CN pals and then... oh, I have to work. Busy, busy, busy.

Storage Solutions

So I have finally come to the point in which I am living out of a suitcase. So I need to organize and rock the suitcase living. I must streamline my winter wardrobe with black basics and small accessories for color, get some foldable canvas bins for rotating clean and dirty items, maybe a hard box for toiletries... and then work it out. I am sure, like everything, it will take trial and error, but I am ready.

I already have my fountain pens and my notebook. I could use a better shoulder bag with more compartments. The one I was using in DF doesn't work for Chicago. It is interesting to note how different handbags or shoulder bags do or do not work for different cities. The style, size and functionality work with the kinds of jobs, neighborhoods and transportation available to the local women. There is definitely a Chicago Bag. And there is a DF Bag. I am sure there is a style for every city. I am excited to find more.

Now to brave the cold and get reacquainted with the grid.

The Museum of Science and Industry, or the Train Place

This is going to be an interesting week. I am spending it with my nephew Augie who has just today decided that pooping in the potty is better than in his pants, which he previously thought to be the correct way to eliminate wastes. Of course, he now has a constant supply of M&Ms to promote more potty pooping and a huge amount of positive reinforcement. Right now I have told him that he has to stay up all night and no matter what he can't get sleepy, well, he told me first. He's pretty susceptible to reverse psychology, but I figure if he calls my number then we both can sleep in late tomorrow. Woot! Don't tell his mom... ;)

In other news, who knew that filet mignon, acorn squash and fingerling potatoes were better with raspberry glaze? Mmm hmm. It is no guyaba, but damn was it good. Almost as good as Augie flashing the chef while dancing to Loretta Lynn and getting ready for bath time. Dontcha. Hopefully, if all goes as planned, we will go to the Museum of Science and Industry tomorrow. It is going to be fun!

Welcome home!