Wishful Slacker

Skillet Baked Ziti

I'm posting a skilled baked ziti recipe from America's Test Kitchen 30 Minute Recipes cookbook.  It is amazingly good.  I found the recipe online at Recipezaar.  If you don't have ziti on hand, then penne also works just fine.  This is one of those meals that is SO easy to make (30 minutes, yo), seems pretty fancy, and is cheap.  It is a perfect alternative to the expensive Italian restaurant that you'd like to go to but shouldn't after spending $500 at Ikea and $750 on your car all within the past week (whistling, whistling).  I dove into it so quickly last night that I neglected to take a picture to upload here!  If that's not a sign of how good this meal is, then I don't know what is!  We add twice the amount of mozzarella than what the recipe suggests, and justify that action by using part-skim cheese :-)

We have not tried this variation yet, but you can substitute 1/2 c. of the water with 1/2 c. of vodka for a vodka cream sauce version.  I was kicking myself because we bought vodka yesterday and I forgot to try it this way!  Oh well, I guess we'll just have to make it again next week....

Christmas is coming!

We spent this past Thanksgiving here in Chicago, with both sides of the family.  It ended up being such a fantastic few days with everyone here (at least I thought so!).  The greatest part about the holiday season is how quickly Thanksgiving rolls right into Christmas.  We are heading to Michigan on Christmas Eve and I am becoming excited for us all to be together again!  I hope that all of you are also looking forward to this week!

                    Picture taken by my sister :-)

Website of the Week- A Sign of the Times

 

I have demonstrated this year the worst Christmas gift planning of my life.  Now typically, I am the type that keeps my ears peeled starting in the Spring for hints dropped here and there from family members regarding gifts they might like.  In the past I've kept track of all these ideas in writing.  There was even a year that I knit all the members of my dad's family scarves, and started the process in February.  So you get the idea.  Me + Chistmas gift planning= Done waaayyy ahead of time.

Well, this year I was caught a little off guard.  Perhaps I've just been oblivious to the people around me and not listening enough to their thoughts on what makes them happy.  Suddenly it was December, and not only did I have no gifts, but I had NO ideas.  Needless to say, I panicked.  I spent many weeknights scrolling through Amazon.com, page by page, hoping for some Eureka moment where I would conveniently come across my mother's gift.  It didn't really end up that way.  What made me feel like an even more self-absorbed inconsiderate person was the fact that I couldn't even think of things for my HUSBAND.  With whom I LIVE.

After many days of frustration, my gift finding improved.  My husband helped me with this, when he heard me freaking out about what to get different family members, and how I'm a bad wife, sister, daughter, etc.  "Look," he said, "What is your dad into?  He seems to like _____ recently.  What about your sister?  She's been into _____."  It was like a gift buying therapy session that I desperately needed, and from then on my thinking cleared and things began coming a bit more easily.  But dang, I did not enjoy the panic of not knowing what to buy people!

So back to the title of this post- I wanted to share with you a hilarious website that my sister- and brother-in-law found.  The four of us have decided to pull names Secret Santa-style this year.  And they found the site Elfster to help out with this task.  Elfster is an online Secret Santa gift exchange organizer.  It works a little like Evite.com, where we received an invitation to join the group that my sister-in-law had set up.  Tomorrow evening we will all be emailed the name of the person that Elfster selects and for whom we need to get a gift.  The budget was set for $1,000,000.50, which I somehow feel was my brother-in-law's influence.  I also suspect that he was the one that then messaged the group anonymously to ask if coupons count as presents.  Elfster is even sponsoring a conference call for the four of us tomorrow night to discuss whatever goofy criteria we apply to our gifts.  We have a 1-800 number to call with an access code and everything.  I think it's great! 

Your trip to Ikea

You've just moved to a new home, and finally have a free weekend day to head to the golden gates of the local Ikea.  This is no small task, considering that the local Ikea is, in fact, not truly local.  You join the glob of traffic heading into and out of the city, oozing inch by inch down 90/94 and onto 290.  You've lived in Chicago for 3 1/2 years now, and can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times that you've ventured into the suburbs.  And 4 of those 5 trips have involved Ikea.  You are armed with a list.  And you know you will be spending a lot of money.  Having this awareness brings you comfort.   

Over an hour later, you round the bend and are blinded by a blue and yellow aura emanating from the tall imposing building ahead.  Angelic music fills the car.  And before you know it, you are weaving your cart through the perfected floor plans and towering displays.  Halfway through, you stop off at the cafeteria where you each get the $1 meatball meal with a dollop of lingonberry jam on the side. 

As you are halfway through your meal you reach for your chapstick and realize that you acted a dolt and returned it to your work bag the night before instead of your purse.  You are stuck in the bowels of Ikea without chapstick.  As an individual who depends on chapstick as much as water, it does create quite a challenge.  You occasionally reach for your lipstick in hopes of it providing some moisturizing relief to your parched lips.  You begin to hope that you aren't turning yourself into Bozo the clown with your frequent applications. 

In fact, the absence of chapstick is the only dose of reality you have in the middle of Ikea.  You realize that Ikea is the suburban Chicago area's answer to the Vegas strip.  Inside Ikea, there is no time.  Your mind plays tricks on you.  You drove there in a Suburban, right?  A Uhaul?  By the time you reach the rugs, you and your husband glance at each other.  It is time to grab a second cart. 

Now both of you are winding toward the registers.  The lines are long.  You make the mistake of switching out of one line and into another, only to realize that this new line is actually longer than the one you were in.  A trick of the eye.  "Damnit!" You exclaim to your husband, who reminds you that you are in no rush.  Standing there, each of you with your own cart, you survey your collection.  "$350?" one of you asks.  "Hmmm....no, I'd say $425," replies the other.  You're both wrong.  $474 is what blazes bright on the LCD screen.  You're so harried at that moment, you don't even pause to consider the total.  Ikea has no plastic bags or individuals at the check out to assist with the loading of your cart.  As you move to the front of the line, a mad dash commences as you quickly unload the contents of your cart onto the conveyor belt, then dash to the other end of the register to collect the items and quickly throw them back into the cart.  The longer this takes, the more the items begin to pile up, threatening to fall off the table.  There is pressure from the people in line behind you, closing in.  While the cart had been carefully filled throughout the trip, now you find yourself haphazardly chucking your goods back in.

The rush of your departure from Ikea is far from over.  Ikea does not allow you to push your carts out to the parking lot to your car.  Rather, they have a pick up bay for cars.  You stand in the cold as your husband runs for the car, guarding the two carts that are awkwardly brimming over with rugs and baskets and a large mirror.  In front of you, a mother and her middle school-aged daughter are loading their car.  The back hatch is popped up and they are trying to pull down the seatbacks to allow them space to load the three boxes propped alongside the car. 

"I thought you said you knew how to do this?" the mother says to her daughter. 
"I did!" she replies, and starts hitting the back wall of the trunk, letting out a frustrated "Argh!"  The mother walks to the front of the car and returns carrying a book. 
"Okay, this is what we're going to do," she says, opening the book.  "OH MY GOD!" yells the daughter in exasperation as she realizes that her mother is looking through the car manual. 

At one point the daughter looks at you, and your gaze communicates your mutual helplessness in the situation.  By this time your husband is jogging over to take one of the carts down to the car, which he's backed into a space a few cars away.  You give the girl a sympathetic last glance and push away the beast on wheels.  The CRV appears smaller than you remember as you begin heaving your purchases into the backseat. 

And just like that, you are pulling away.  It is now dark out as you merge back on the expressway for the hour long trip home.  Thus ends your trip to Ikea.

Sigh

There is a Christmas ornament that I created at the tender age of 4, using pieces of felt and glue and an incredibly God-awful photograph of me singing some Christmas carol.  I try moving it to the back of the tree every year.  A couple Christmases ago, my parents did something evil.  They made a copy of this said ornament, and quietly passed the copy to my husband, who must have been bubbling over in secret glee during that car trip home.  He waited until the following YEAR before hanging the ornament on our tree one December Saturday.  Right snack dab in the middle.

Step Aboard the CTA Holiday Train! Ho Ho Ho

In riding the train home this evening, I saw a sign posted inside the car that confirmed that the holidays are definitely here. 

For you Chicagoans, you know what this is.  Yes- the Chicago Transit Authority Holiday Train is on its way!  For those of you that have never witnessed this spectacle before, it is quite the sight to behold.  And as a recent immigrant of the Roscoe Village neighborhood, I think I may have a very good chance of spotting the holiday train this year during my morning and evening brown line escapades.

Photograph posted by 24gotham on Flickr

Photograph posted by jaytkay on Photobucket.

Three Decembers ago during our first Christmas season in Chicago, my parents came in for a weekend visit.  Now, perhaps I should preface this story with the explanation that anytime my parents ride the CTA with us, something weird happens.  And by something, I really mean someONE.  or someONES.  Just this past weekend my mother ended up next to a raucous group of fifty-somethings on the brown line who were cracking open cans of Miller Lite on the train.  I was half expecting her to be offered one.  Apparently the whole high school concept of hiding these items in brown paper bags or pouring them into unmarked containers was lost on these folks.  Where are the train police when you need them?

Anyways, back to 3 years ago- we had decided to take the #151 Sheridan bus downtown to Michigan Avenue.  While standing at the corner of Diversey and Sheridan, we noticed a man calmly walk up to the bus stop.  He stood outside the stop, rocking on his heels, seemingly minding his own business. He had shiny silver white hair that was cut chin-length with a center part and he wore a clean pressed pair of khakis with a coat.  Suddenly, out of nowhere, the man began to speak.  He spoke to no one in particular, though we noticed him making eye contact with the passers-by who watched him warily as the volume of his voice grew louder and louder, proclaiming how the "LORD HAS COME TO SAVE US ALL! AND THERE ARE MACHINE GUNS THAT MAKE 'DU DU DU DU DU' NOISES!  AND GOD HAS MADE FOR US A PLACE TO HAVE GARDENS!"

Yes, these were the things he was saying.  And no, they made no sense.

Keep in mind that my parents were with us, and that they had only come to visit us the city once before.  Standing next to a crazy person on the street when you are not used to city shenanigans is not a very calming experience.  Because it seemed that the man had chosen this corner for his quack church and out of fear of being selected for an exorcism, we ducked around him and made our way down to the next bus stop.  The Wrightwood stop was a good choice.  It was quiet.  The "Preacher" as we called him during our remaining 3 years in Lincoln Park, did not follow us.

Minutes went by, and along came the bus.  Well, not just any bus, but the CTA HOLIDAY BUS.  Tinsel trimmed every window, which were spray painted with fake snow.  Christmas music blared overhead.  The yellow poles that line the CTA buses were all trimmed in candy cane ribbon and tied with a big bow at the top, while other bars had lights strung around them.  Christmas cardboard cut-outs were stuck along any flat surface that was available.

So you get the picture I hope.

To add to this description, it is important for you to know that this bus was just PACKED full of people.  The 151 bus frequently gets that way on weekends when everyone heads down to the Magnificent Mile for shopping, since there really are no train alternatives in that area.  I've always hoped that the CTA would see this as a reason to create a train line going along the lakefront, a very underserved area when it comes to public transportation (reason #5,432 that Chicago did not get the 2016 Olympics). 

So to recap:
It looked like a Christmas fairy had vomited all over the place.
There was Christmas music blasting over the crappy speakers and people yelling over the noise.
There were 300 people on the bus and no where to sit or move.

My mom has bad knees and it's always such a pain in the butt when we get on a bus or train and there's no where for her to sit.  The bus always bobs and sways and hits every rut and dip in the road so that you might as well be on some type of trampoline.  We were forced to slowly creep our way toward the back of the bus with each stop as some people left and more piled in behind us.  Finally we were able to get my mom a seat, and as my dad, husband and I became separated by a few rows each as we all ended up getting more and more squished toward the back.  Because the music was so loud, it seemed that everyone on board was shouting.  It was loud, and it was hot.  

He must have been quiet at first, from his seat in the very back of the bus.  But then we heard it.  "THE LORD BLESS YOU AND KEEP YOU AND THE ARCHANGEL GABRIEL TOLD THE SOLDIERS FEAR NOT!"  I snapped my head toward my father, mouthing "Oh my god he's on the bus!"  My father then turned his head to make eye contact with my husband, who then glanced over at my mother a few rows away.  But my poor mother could not contribute at all, because it looked as though she had sat herself next to another somewhat-crazy individual, a woman who kept talking to her about something that we can't remember now (the Preacher used up all of our memory of that trip). 

Over the past few years, Jim and I bumped into the Preacher quite often at the post he seemed to frequent most often at Diversey and Clark.  At one time he cut his hair much shorter, then when we spotted him again it was even longer than it had been during that December bus ride.  In the summers with our windows open we heard his voice cutting through the sirens and other city noises.  But our favorite story is one that I am so sorry to have missed.  Jim was walking home one day and heard the ever-familiar noise of the Preacher bellowing out his declarations.  A police officer began walking over to tell him to beat it.  Holding up his arm like a crossing guard, the Preacher yelled "STAND BACK LAWMAN!" 



Once onto the Mag Mile, the Preacher exited the bus and quietly walked away.  Who knows what congregation of unassuming individuals became his new victims down in Streeterville.  A few stops afterwards, we too left the bus.  It pulled back into traffic, making everyone turn their heads to watch as it jingle-belled its way down Michigan Avenue.

In googling the "CTA Holiday Bus", the only websites that come up are from 2006, making me think that they must have discontinued the Holiday Bus after this particular season.     

But the train...the train is coming.  And it may be the train that pulls up to your platform.

ALL ABOARD!!!