04/25/2010 Hmmm, now what?

So I finally signed up for Twitter. I clicked on my friend Heather to follow, in addition to Homemade Pizza Company, as I heard that they sometimes post specials and coupons.
Then I just stared at the screen. And stared. Then I closed the window. And that, ladies and gentlemen, has been my first experience with Twitter. Maybe in the future, I'll add tweets on my own. I'm sure people would be incredibly interested to read the uber-thrilling aspects in my life like: It's Sunday afternoon. Should I get out of my pajamas? My cat hogged the whole pillow last night. I wish someone would come over here and vacuum.

But for now, I think I'll just sit around and wait for Twitter to do the thrilling. Dum de dum de dum. . .

04/17/2010 Writing vacation

Well hello! It has been a MONTH since I last posted to my blog! I guess I've been on a self-imposed writing vacation, however I haven't been very happy about this! I have had a crazy past month- I went to Albuquerque for a conference (where I finally learned how to correctly spell Albuquerque), had a sick cat and ended up spending half the night at an emergency vets office (Major says he's feeling much better now, thank you), finished my last writing class, stood up in my friend's wedding last weekend, and gave a presentation at a conference this past week. Some additional challenges were thrown in to this past month just to make life even more interesting, but I don't want to bore you. I am optimistic that the next few weeks will bring with them a calmer existence! I wanted to share some pictures from the last month. These first two illustrate our attempt to explore some of the greater Albuquerque area the first day we were there. Three of my genetic counseling friends and I rented a car. You would think that with my Garmin and using google maps on our cell phones, we would have had a fairly easy time finding our way around. Well, the Garmin got a little confused, and after driving around and around the perimeter of a national park without ever being able to find our way INSIDE, we finally reached this junction, dissolving into a fit of giggles at the realization that it just wasn't to be. Above: Where the Garmin WANTED us to go. Below: Yeah. . . a left turn just wasn't possible. . . We DID finally make it to the Sandia Peak National Park, taking the tramway all the way up to the top. It was pretty amazing as long as I resisted thinking that our lives were all dangling by a skinny wire.

Another exciting development is that Jim and I had our new dining room table delivered a couple weeks ago. This may not seem like a big deal, but I feel it was a rite of passage. I am truly an adult now. Of course a lovely part of the past few weeks has been the arrival of Spring to Chicago. The other day I walked through our neighborhood surrounded by smells of lilac and other flowering trees. We can finally enjoy outside cafes and restaurants and bars have opened their windows. So nice. It was warm enough the other night that we were able to venture up to the rooftop deck in our new building for a glimpse of the view downtown. So, with that, I will get back to our Saturday. One of the tasks on my to do list is to change out my winter closet for my summer one. This closet swap is so much more laborious that the one that takes place in the Fall because all of my summer clothes which have sat squashed and folded for months need ironing! Ugh! My least favorite chore!

02/24/2010 Once Upon an Ironic Time

Once upon an ironic time, there was a couple who lived in a tiny 1 bedroom apartment in a city highrise. One day, following maintenance work to the outside of the 21 storey building, their little bedroom began to leak. It started as a small drip, then became several drips, then over the following year evolved into a soggy mess of peeling drywall. Then one day, their little living room became soaking wet. ARGH! A new leak in the living room! Now the only dry places in their little home were their bathroom and kitchen. And both had sinks, hence they did not stay completely dry for very long. Well, this couple put on a brave face and put up with the mess that the building refused to address. They felt very badly for the nice lady who owned the unit and the the fact that no one would listen to her and fix her little house. Finally, the nice lady told the couple that they could break their lease. After finding mold in the bedroom, the couple decided to accept her kind offer.

By luck, the couple was able to find a totally awesome condo to rent. It was in their favorite neighborhood! It was in an incredible building! It had two bedrooms AND two full bathrooms! And a fantastic kitchen! And a washer and dryer in unit! Boy oh boy, this couple was stoked. They moved in and were so happy to be living in a nice house that didn't leak. Even their cat was excited, running and scrambling around and around the apartment after his toys at 3 am each morning. Life was good.

Well, after 2 months, suddenly, their new pretty bedroom started to leak! ! ! "Hmmm. . " they thought, scratching their heads as they watched the drips plop into the tupperware containers they'd set out. The night after this, the wife woke up to find her husband shining their flashlight onto the ceiling. There was a new leak, this time a couple feet from the foot of the bed. They set out more tupperware containers. Soon the drips began coming in faster, splattering against the tupperware containers and splashing over their nice new landlady's hardwood floors. The couple set out towels. As this happened, they looked at eachother and said, "Well isn't this ironic? ""What are the chances? ""Honestly, something must be wrong with US!"

No sooner than these exasperations were muttered, drips began coming in along their windows in the living room. And into the closet holding the furnance. What the heck was going on? "Maybe it's a problem with the drainpipe that goes through the unit, " the building engineer wondered. The husband nodded. The wife knew little about drainage, but pretended to agree wholeheartedly with this hypothesis and nodded too. Everyone was nodding and scratching their heads. "The fact we're in another leaky unit is pretty weird, right?"

It was winter, which is a difficult time to assess the reason for a ceiling leak. It kept snowing. As soon as the sun came out and began melting the snow, the leaks became heavier. "This is getting worse! " the husband emailed the nice landlady and the building company. Finally, just last Friday, the temperature increased into the 40s, and the building's architect, engineer, roofers, and plumber where able to test the drain pipe by pouring water into it from the roof to see if this changed anything in the couple's unit. Well, something must have become. . .dislodged. Water began pouring into the unit, stretching from the windows all the way to the opposite wall, coming in so quickly that the workers ran around finding large garbage and recycling bins to collect the water. Then they had to keep emptying the bins and moping the floor. They bought the couple more towels. The unit next to the couple started leaking too. ARGH! ! ! THE SKY IS FALLING, the couple thought when they came home from work and got about to moping the water off their nice landlady's pretty wooden floor. Wasn't it ironic? The couple had to move their furniture out of their bedroom and living room. The roofers and plumber engaged in a day-long project to drill through their bedroom ceiling to the roof and insert a new drainpipe. Then they had to carve a new hole from their bedroom into their living room and connect the new drainpipe to the good part of the old leaky one. And the couple was told that this should be the solution to the problem.

The evening after this repair work, the wife was home on her own. She sat in the partially empty living room after pulling the plastic covering off their couch and television, and looked around at the dry floor and buckets. They seemed dry. They really did. But with their history, could the leaks really be over? Really and truly? Seems doubtful to me!

02/10/2010 4 am Musings

Last week I offered an admission which has completed backfired on me. I should have known better than to consciously think, "Wow, I haven't gotten sick this winter! "And, before you could say Bob's your uncle, I had a sore throat. Serves me right. For a change, this cold has not caused me outright misery, which has made it quite considerate (as viruses go). It's been playing a tug of war with my psyche as I try to press forward, like someone constantly tapping me on my shoulder waiting for me to turn around. Sitting at my desk this morning, my cloudy mind considered finishing a physician letter on the surveillance guidelines for isolated hemihypertrophy, when another being within me stepped forward, hands raised in the time out position. "Later. "And so now I am home, donned in my fat pants and a sweatshirt. My eyes are no longer wrestling with fluorescent lighting. I brought home work to do as well, which I will complete in the peaceful dim of the living room. I may even nap, we shall see. All is good. My husband and I have added PBS's American Experience to our TiVo Season Pass. I love those types of programs. Last night we watched the recently recorded episode, which was on the Donner Party. I had actually not heard of the Donner Party before, and holy Moses it was such a horrible story. So this morning, I awakened after 4 am (perhaps lured awake by our earthquake? ) and could not get back to sleep. And what did I start thinking about? The Donner Party. For about an hour I tossed and turned while replaying bits of the program in my head. It was ridiculous. Then I started thinking, I wonder if there is anyone else in the world thinking about the Donner Party at this exact moment? I come up with some weird stuff in the middle of the night. Nyquil, you failed me!

02/09/2010 Day 2 post CTA cuts- are we having fun yet?

When we first moved to Chicago, there were so many aspects of the city that were so immensely appealing. The plethora of sundries within walking distance. The restaurants. The lakeshore. The ease of public transpor. . .Wait hold on, I just coughed up blood. Let me try that again. Ahem. The ease of public traaa. . . Sorry. I'm just having a hard time talking at the moment, following my GUT-WRENCHING-ARE-YOU-KIDDING-ME-THAT-THIS-TRAIN-IS-THIS-PACKED? -I-CAN'T-BREATHE! ! - trip home on the train.

You see, the Chicago Transit Authority (CTA) initiated service cuts on Sunday, after they were unable to reach an agreement with labor officials. Eleven hundred workers were laid off, several bus routes were cut, and both trains and buses are now running less frequently. Which means, longer time between rides. Which means, more people aboard each train. Which means- a whole lotta bad. And while we're decreasing service, let's just whip up a snowstorm while we're at it! You're screwed no matter how you choose to get to work!

Tonight, I had to hold my bag down at my side, and with the Tokyo-style packing of the train, my arm and bag ended up 5 people away from my body. I was scared. And let's say you are battling a mild yet spontaneously-deploying head cold. Better pray to God that your nose doesn't start running from Fullerton to Paulina. There is no way your arm can navigate down to your pocket for your Kleenex, and then back up to your nose. It just ain't happening. You'd have better luck rubbing your nose on the arm of the stranger next to you, since his arm is only 3mm from your nose to begin with. He'll never know. . .

02/07/2010 Soaking in the Sunday Sun

The sun shone today! And it stayed light AFTER 5pm! ! There may be some hope after all!

02/03/2010 Summerworkstoryidea. doc

I was just digging through my writing folder on my laptop and came across the word document titled above that I apparently created on Wednesday, June 3, 2009. Being that it is winter, and dark, and cold, I thought I would share it!

The peaceful quiet of a summer evening

Little bugs fluttering in the evening sunlight

Sound of insects

Swaying in the hammock

Knowing you don’t have to go to bed

Watching your mother or father flick on the light inside the living room

Smacking at a mosquito on your leg

Sprinklers

Smell of grass

Sound of a lawnmower

Smell of barbeque

Remembering this, in the middle of my working adult life

Having forgotten what that moment of peace is like

Forgetting that feeling of stillness

Always having a to do list

Always having to watch the clock for bedtime

02/02/2010 What's it gonna be, Punxatawny Major? ? ?

Happy Groundhog's Day! If Phil sees his shadow, so help me God. . .

01/30/2010 On Genetics and Us

I was once cornered by an individual who began firing off questions about personalized genomics. He had done his research. "Do you know how many conditions companies like "23 and Me" can test for?

"No.”

"Now I read that all of us are carriers of at least 7 or 8 recessive genetic conditions. Is that true?”

"Yes.”

"Well, how do they know that is true? Have they tested everyone? Do they revise that number over time? Have they tested the eskimos?"

Anyways, this went on for several minutes, but the topic is one that I have found particularly interesting since grad school. Now, I am not as much interested in WHAT these new personalized genomics companies have to offer. Rather, I am more interested in people's responses to learning that they could potentially have access to this very personal genetic information.

Here's the deal. When we think of "genetic disease, " we frequently think of what we call "single gene disorders. " One gene has a mutation, and that mutation leads to that individual being affected with a genetic condition. One gene, One disease. Sickle cell disease. Duchenne muscular dystrophy. Cystic fibrosis. You get the picture.

Over time, we are learning that the majority of conditions and diseases do not fit into the "one gene, one disease" category. Rather, these fall into the category of multifactorial disease, which means that there are likely many, many genes, and many, many environmental factors, that all interact with each other. Line up certain genetic variations with different environmental prompts, and you have a complex multifactorial condition. Lupus. Multiple sclerosis. Type II Diabetes. Parkinson's disease. Several direct-to-consumer companies have developed genetic testing that can be ordered from a private individual's home and sent directly to a lab with no doctor involved. Some of these companies have genetic counselors, others do not. Some of these companies help their customers and their customers' physicians interpret their results, others do not. Several of these labs do offer testing for single gene conditions on their panel. In addition to testing for known single gene disorders, many direct-to-consumer companies also offer risk assessments for common complex and multifactorial diseases. A big area of research at the moment involves trying to locate variations in our genes, or polymorphisms, that could confer an increased RISK for a condition. What this means is that this polymorphism, in conjunction with other genetic and environmental factors, could lead to disease.

As you can imagine, the confounding variables in these studies are numerous (for example, did this polymorphism influence this disease, or was it that this individual lived next to a tire manufacturing plant for 30 years? ). There is still much to learn in this area, and many feel that we're far away from giving accurate risk assessments for individuals based on our current limited knowledge of the diseases that affect people today.

Here is what interests me. Many people, probably including the individual I mentioned above, would be a kid on Christmas morning if they could get their hands on their own personal genomics report. To be able to say, "well look at that, they found that I carry a risk factor for heart disease" holds great value for many. But what will they do with that information? In grad school, we had several discussions about where the health focus should be in today's society. We all support the research and advances that have developed over the years in treating single gene disorders and the testing that has allowed other family members the ability to know if they are at risk. But what are the greatest concerns for the health of people in developed nations in this world? The modern lifestyle that has brought us so much has also been dangerous to our health, despite the amazing health care gains that have developed over the past 100 years. There are numerous medical conditions that affect low-risk individuals for reasons we do not understand. However, for many of us, our risks for disease would decrease significantly if we were to change our daily habits. It is difficult to leave the comforts that bring us pleasure, like smoking, the sedentary life, and food.

I took some very eye-opening courses in the Public Health Department when I was at U of M, where the discussion focused on helping individuals to address their ambivalence over change. We learned about identifying the personal barriers to change, and what small steps could lead to minimizing those barriers. The bottom line is that change can really, really suck. While direct-to-consumer genetic testing companies advertise the benefits of knowing if one carries an increased genetic susceptibility to multifactorial diseases, we as individuals may not understand that our greatest control in our health lies in our behaviors. That is what concerns me. So what if you carry a polymorphism present in 5% of the population that is thought to influence one's risk for hypertension. Is that going to get you to drop those 30 pounds and adopt a healthier lifestyle? You tell me.

01/28/2010 Winter's Cruelty- aka, the hotter the shower, the drier the skin

I have the winter itch. The colder the temps, the more I itch. The colder I feel, the longer I stand in a steamy hot shower. And the longer and hotter the shower, the more I itch. How is this fair?

In our new apartment, we have one of the most amazing showers I have ever seen in my life. Do you see all those shower heads? When our lease is up, I may handcuff myself to the towel bar. I love me a hot shower or bath. Sometimes during the day when I am cold, I imagine myself walking around wearing a large box full of hot water. An opaque portable bath of sorts. To be totally honest, my wish for this portable bath was a desire of yesterday.

In actuality, I really haven't been very cold during the day recently, mainly because I am now addicted to my long johns. I bought a pair of long underwear from REI last year, and it was probably the best $30 I've ever spent. They are thin and breathable and the best accessory ever invented. I've become so addicted, that even after the temps creep back up into the 20's and 30's, I can't take them off. If I leave without them, it feels like the tundra. I almost accidentally wore them to my pedicure last Saturday.

So, back to dry skin. When we were at Ikea last month, we were surprised to see that they have come out with a line of toiletries- body and hand lotion, and shampoo and conditioner. Having left my chapstick at home, I had hoped with all my might that there was new Ikea chapstick, but I was not that lucky! All of their products seemed to be very decently priced at less than $3. We bought a body lotion to try out, and I have to say that we've been very pleased with it. It is pretty thick and is fairly quick-drying. I would definitely buy some more in the future, but Jim and I have forbidden ourselves to return to Ikea for at least a few months! While I love finding nice lotions and other toiletries for cheap, I've also discovered a deep down desire to splurge every so often.

We took a Chicago staycation last spring and stayed at the Hotel Monaco downtown. If I could, I'd say that it's the best hotel in Chicago. But I am far from having been in every hotel in the city, so therefore this is a claim I cannot support. You get the idea though, I loved this hotel. The soap freebies at this place were L'Occitane products, the verbena scent. Oh they were just lovely. The scent is so fresh and lemon-y. I happened to have a ziploc bag with us and actually brought home the used soap that we had used while at the hotel because I could not BEAR the thought that it'd be thrown away (ARGH I'M MY MOTHER! !)! As for the other unused L'Occitane travel products that we brought home from that stay, I found myself using them slowly over the next few months when I really needed something nice. Since I loved them so much, when it came time to ask for things for Christmas, I put it down on my list. I received L'Occitane bar soaps, lotions, shower gels, and shampoo and conditioner. Oh, happiness.

Let me finish by sharing a really nice website, Real Food Rehab. I saw Dana Joy Altma on our local news a few months ago, and really like her message. She is all about promoting healthy living through eating good, pure foods and practicing self-care. I particularly liked her blog post from after the New Year, Ten Ideas to Make Your Life Better in 2010. Quality trumps quantity. After I run out of my L'Occitane Christmas gifts, I may actually head out and buy some for MYSELF! Shocker!

01/24/2010 Food Certainty

I am starting another writing class tomorrow, and over the past couple weeks I've gotten back to doing some writing warm ups. One of the resources I've consulted is Natalie Goldberg's Writing Down the Bones. In it, she strongly encourages making "writing practice" a part of one's writing regimen. "Writing practice" involves sitting down with pen and paper and just writing about WHATEVER. The pen should never stop and there should be little thought to proper form or punctuation. It should be almost meditative. And if your mind is full of self-deprecating thoughts, she recommends starting your writing practice by getting it all out.

So I sat down tonight with my notebook and started writing about how no matter how much I would love to become a writer, all my work will come to nothing and I will be burned out forever (again- Natalie says the more we get all this crap out, the more we learn to just ignore it. So I decided to go all out with Sunday night negativity).

Then, as my pen flowed across the paper, I started writing about my typical day of work. Not work as I know it now, but work as I would love it to be. Without going into much detail, let's just say that it involved coffee, a cozy home office, midday cucumber sandwiches, and sprints to the local coffee shop for a change in scenery. Sha-right. As if. We know life does not just align itself the way we desire (there's that whole issue of money and health insurance and groceries and rent), and even our "dream" situation would come with its own list of pros and cons.

I think this is why I love to cook. Whoa- change of subject, yes? But hear me out- food and cooking creates for us a constant. It is stable and inviting. You don't cook because you HAVE to. While we HAVE to work, none of us HAVE to cook- we could just stock up on tator tots and frozen meals if we wanted. And if a meal causes us a lot of stress because the garlic burns while our backs are turned, well there is always the option to pitch it and call for a pizza. No matter how sucky my day is, no matter how drained I am, I can always look forward to cooking a good meal. And I know I just posted a similar sentiment last week, but it's just a thought I've been considering a lot recently. We cooked some great meals last week, and looking back, I felt happier as the week progressed, even though I had a lot on my plate at work. It probably also helped that I had last Monday off. Curses!

01/23/2010 Creating Our Family Wall

My dad is from Doncaster, England, and my experiences with his family involve happy spurts of togetherness surrounded by years of separation. I have not been there in 5 years, yet in my mind I can walk from room to room in my grandfather's house, passing through the yellow kitchen, glimpsing into the dining room and lounge, and walking up the red carpeted stairs to the bedrooms on the second floor. I can even capture the comforting smells of the house- hints of floral and spring that linger on the wrapping paper used for our Christmas gifts and remain in our guest room for days after our relatives return home after a visit to the States.

As a child I would frequently sneak into this room after my grandparents' departure, allowing that scent to surround me as I mourned them gone. Now as an adult I accept the distance between us and our family for what it is, and possess the confidence to know that, despite our infrequent meetings, I remain a part of them. My grandfather's house is the museum of the Walker family, and through this role it seems to have developed its own soul. Strolling from one room to the next you are surrounded by a history captured in picture frames- from my grandparents in World War II to my blond-haired father as a school boy, standing behind a pram with his older sisters. There are pictures of my cousins, squinting into the sun on the day of their college graduations, and the line of Walker dogs properly remembered- Skip and Rex and Basil and Dusty.

Photographs of my grandmother hang prominently in the lounge, alongside her needlework. Interspersed among the family pictures are watercolor paintings of Snowdonia, Caernarfon Castle, the city of York, and the Dales, along with slate wall hangings and Welsh love spoons. To know and understand the elements of life that held meaning for my grandparents requires that you simply walk through their house. There is such a beauty in that. Many, many miles away, my grandparents' house influences my thoughts on the home that I would like to create.

And while Jim and I have yet to find ourselves in our permanent home, we at least can still pound some nails in the wall! We had a family wall in our old apartment in Lincoln Park, and a couple weekends ago I started to recreate this space in our new home in Roscoe Village. I decided to place the pictures along the wall that is at your back when sitting at our desk. That way we can glance at the wall when entering the room and sitting down at the desk to work, but can go ahead and be productive without continuously staring at everyone's picture (I'm not sure if Jim would do this, but for me, I would find myself staring off into space if I had all those pictures within view! ). We have a LOT of wall space in this new place, and I wanted to share the feline portraits that we now have framed in our kitchen. The black and white cat was Oliver. I actually drew that with magic markers 3 years ago and hung it near his litter box (I'm a total weirdo when it comes to our cats- I understand this). I could never find it in my heart to get rid of this picture, and on a whim I framed it. Then I thought, well, we now also need a picture of Major! So I sat down with the markers and created Major's portrait. It's okay if you think we're both bizarre for hanging these, but we love them. Major is pleased too.

February, 2026- our cat pictures still exist. From left to right: Oliver, Major, Grady, and Bean.

01/17/2010 Meal planning and Basil Veggies

Well hello and happy Sunday! I find myself in the middle of a 3 day weekend, as our office is closed on Monday for MLK Day. This is probably the one day of the entire year that I have off that many people do not, including my husband. Not that I won't enjoy it, don't get me wrong. But I am already anticipating that I'll feel like I'm playing hooky!

As you can tell from previous blog posts, I've been off my game recently with the weather, darkness, work, etc. We have been in our new place for almost 2 months now, but you would think it's been far less than that based on the appearance of some of our rooms! We have all this new space but nowhere to put anything, and very little motivation to actually go about trying to solve this dilemma. The issue is most prevalent in our second bedroom. I spent several hours in there last Sunday, kicking around boxes and stuffing files into our file cabinet, while muttering to myself, "Just put everything away- organize later! " I have a grand plan to turn that room into a nice cozy workspace. . but we're just stuck for now! This was one pile that we cleared out yesterday, in preparation for our new dining room table that will be delivered next week. Yay!

Typically, I do really enjoy meal planning and preparing good meals. It just makes me feel good. I rely greatly on looking forward to things, and there is nothing like getting through your work day by knowing that you plan to make a good dinner that evening. We watched the movie Julie & Julia last night. It was a cute movie (though I do need to talk to someone else about the ending- did Julia really not like what Julie was doing? ). At one point, Julie comments that no matter how tumultuous your day is, you can always find comfort in the consistency of ingredients coming together to make a dish. I agree with that whole-heartedly. It does take some planning, which is what I've neglected recently.

Yesterday morning I woke up, sat down with my cookbooks, and planned some meals. I then placed a Peapod order, and now we find ourselves with a full kitchen and a week's worth of meals to make! It feels awesome. Our fridge is stocked with so much produce- cherries, clementines, blueberries, leeks, parsnips, broccoli, cilantro, mixed greens and arugula, and red peppers. This week's meals:

Cuban braised beef and peppers (in the slow cooker as we speak! )

Pasta with lentils and arugula

Spicy black bean cakes

Creamy parsnip soup

Broccoli and 3 cheese lasagna

YUM! ! I like to rotate cookbooks for simplicity when I meal plan, and this week I have chosen a mixture of recipes from Real Simple magazine and the Martha Stewart Everyday Food cookbook. I will make sure to post any good outcomes! As part of my New Years resolution, I am cutting back on my meat consumption, so today's braised beef dinner is the only non-vegetarian meal we're having this week. Another new thing I have done is created a "Featured Recipes" tab at the top of my blog. If you click on that, you will find the different dishes I have posted in the past. I am hoping this makes these recipes more accessible. I will leave you now with the dish that we made last night. I obtained this recipe from my friend Christina over a year ago, and it's a good one. It is so easy to make, and we've designated it as our "go to" fancy dish for evenings when we're clueless on what to make for dinner. You just need to stop for basil, veggies, garlic, feta cheese, and couscous on your way home and then you're all set.

Basil Veggies and Couscous
2T minced fresh basil
2T balsamic vinegar
1T olive oil
1/4 t salt
2 crushed garlic cloves
2 medium zucchini cut into one inch slices
1 medium yellow bell pepper cut into one inch pieces
1 red bell pepper cut into one inch pieces
1 medium red onion cut into 8 wedges
1 8oz package mushrooms
3 cups hot cooked couscous
feta cheese
pepper

Preheat oven to 425. Combine first 5 ingredients in a large bowl. Add zucchini, peppers, onion and mushroom. toss well to coat. Arrange in single layer in shallow pan. Cover and bake at 425 for 35 minutes or until tender, stirring occasionally. Spoon veggies over couscous. Top with feta cheese and pepper.

01/11/2010 Winter blues and hat hair

Hello, my name is Lindsay, and I have the winter blues. There. It's out. I've said it. Just a few weeks ago, I was truly looking forward to January. Truly. I hoped for white Saturday mornings with frost on the windows and a windchill frigid enough that it would be INSANE to leave the building. I wanted to curl up on the couch and catch up on our Netflix movies while I sipped tea and knit socks. I wanted to rush home after work to heat up the big pot of leftover soup that we'd made, and shuffle around the apartment in my slippers. Ahhhhh. . . Doesn't it sound nice?

But you see, days ago, I got cranky. Really, really cranky. And moody, which may be the same as cranky, but I was too cranky and moody to objectively differentiate between the two. I became the Debbie Downer incarnate. Work. Home. Bed. Too cold. No fun. Work. Home. Chores. I've even been cantankerous while reading a book on World War II. WORLD WAR TWO. I mean, while reading a story about everything that people had to endure back then, you'd expect me to think, WELL GEE WHIZ, IT'S SWELL THAT I DON'T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT YET ANOTHER AIR RAID IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT! OR WONDER IF I HAVE ENOUGH FOOD STAMPS TO MAKE BREAD! AND HECK, LUCKY THAT I DON'T NEED TO REMIND ALASTAIR MCINTYRE TO PUT THAT LIGHT OUT AGAIN! But no, the moment I close the book I seem to forget that life could be far, FAR WORSE, and my thoughts return to how my winter days are composed of nothing but work and nighttime, and, hmmm, should I have my pity party begin a 2pm or 3pm on Sunday afternoon?

And then it occurred to me- forget the sweaters and matching scarves. Forget the hot cocoa and winter stew. I just want sun. I want long evenings and birds chirping and aimless walks through the neighborhood. I want outdoor seating and a warm breeze that gently melts the ice in my sangria. I want to leave work and have 5 hours of freedom before it's time to go to bed. And, I want to just give my hair a chance to reach its fullest potential.

Which brings me to my second point, which addresses another dreadful and miserable consequence of daily subzero temps. Hat hair. Each morning we women wash, dry, and style our hair. And within minutes of this, we squash it all with a hat. And for the rest of the day it sits like some lifeless flat being on my head, making me seem like one of those girls who does nothing with their hair but really SHOULD. Now, I've tried to be brave. I've tried going without the hat. But no, the cold air and wind can be as equally disastrous, and I value tremendously the warmth provided to me by my balaclava.

This weekend, when I was having my winter pity party, I may have felt in the dumps but my hair looked FANTASTIC. And that's because I didn't leave the house to go trudging along the sidewalk or smoosh myself into a train. I've been going to the same hair stylist for the past couple years, a cool guy named Denny, who I think can tell I'm not a total girly girl and likes to fill me in on his high maintenance clients who watch him every second to make sure he highlights every strand of their hair as directed. Me, I just sit there and go through my fill of celebrity gossip magazines, letting him do whatever, while exclaiming out loud to him from time to time, "THEY'RE PREGNANT? WHAT, HAVE THEY BEEN DATING FOR LIKE 3 WEEKS? " I called Denny last week after coming to the hectic conclusion that my hair needs to be chopped off as quickly as possible. "Hello can I help you? ""Yes, hi, I need to make an appointment for a hair cut and color with Denny. ""Okay, when are you available? ""Wait- is this Denny? ""Yes. ""Hey Denny! It's Lindsay! ""Oh hey. How are you? ""My hair Denny. It's driving me crazy. " And then suddenly I found myself just spewing out all my problems to him on the phone. Not real life problems, but my hair problems. I think I frightened him a little bit in fact. And I hope he doesn't think that I didn't like my last hair cut. Because I did. It's just WINTER. It screws everything up. So, now that I've got that out of my system, I suppose it's time to wrap up this here blog post and turn on the electric blanket before bed. Tonight, I hope I will dream of summer. And when I wake up it will be June. If only I had coupons for sunscreen. . .

01/01/2010 Thanks a lot, Muse

To all my friends and family, I wish you a very happy new year! I hope you have all had a wonderful holiday season.

I have not made many blog posts lately, and sadly it is because my Muse took a December holiday without informing me first. So rude. You see, my Muse typically makes numerous appearances to me throughout a typical week, secretly whispering to me as I walk to the train or stare at my computer screen at work. She tells me, "why don't you write about this? !" to which I reply, "You know, Muse, that's a good one! " Then we ponder the topic over the course of a few hours before sitting together by the laptop and beginning to type.

But then, without warning, she left me all alone and with a very busy and stressful work schedule and a laundry list of pre-Christmas to-do's. I mean, no wonder I've had so few blog posts! I am now sitting here on the first day of the year, looking about my new apartment that is finally feeling like home, and hoping that my Muse will return from her sojourn so that we can get back to work.

Even with my missing Muse, I've been doing some thinking about the 2000's, and all that this decade has given me. I don't think I will have another ten years as heavily influential on my life as this past one (and no, that's not me being pessimistic and cryptic. I am thoroughly looking forward to the many years ahead, have no worries). At the turn of Y2K, I was a college newbie, and in these ten years I chose and developed my career, met and married my husband, moved out of my home state, and experienced a glorious resolution to a family crisis. With all of this reflection, I expect myself to be feeling pretty darn good about my present life. I am very grateful.

But I am also incredibly stressed about my job. I am drowning in work no matter how many hours I work each day, as I scramble to minimize the "to do" list that increases faster than my ability to check a task as done. It. . just. . sucks. Which is why I depend so much on my Muse to get me through. And for her to have left now, well, it is just incredibly inconsiderate. When she does return, I will try to not become angry with her. I will pour us a drink and allow her to put her feet up. And when she feels a tickle of inspiration to pass along to me, I will accept it with the sincerest appreciation.

12/13/2009 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.

12/01/2009 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 new resident 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.

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.

10/23/2009 Wow

Somehow, it has been almost a full year since Jim and I were married, and I've been thinking through the events of the days leading up to October 25, 2008. I just loved our wedding (wedding planning, notsomuch). We were married at The Belvedere Inn, a bed and breakfast in Saugatuck, Michigan. The Inn had ten guest rooms which we filled with our friends and family. Having all those people together under the same roof was so cozy and comforting, and then for the wedding when everyone arrived, it got even better! This seems a strange comparison, but I'll make it anyways. When my sister and I were younger, one of our favorite make believe plays was to pile all our stuffed animals and dolls on the bed at night and pretend we were on a boat in the sea. What really happened to lead up to this is that we were on a boat ride at an amusement park, when SUDDENLY the guard rail SNAPPED in two and there we went, in our little covered boat, out to sea with no one to save us. We seemed to get over the feeling of despair one might feel in this situation and moved on to the care and protection of Heart to Heart bear, Cabbage Patch Dolls A, B, and C, Nellie the elephant, and Teddy Ruxpin. I loved that make believe game. Lying there in the dark, surrounded by all our stuffed animals, next to my sister, made me feel so safe and warm (though occasionally one of the kids would fall in the water, which sometimes became hot lava, requiring a daring but successful rescue attempt and stern disciplinary action). But honestly, staying at the Belvedere that weekend, with everyone we loved all around us or just down the street, gave me such a similar feeling. It was that comforting sense of togetherness and continuity, a richness that I can easily conjure up if I just pause and imagine it all again. And all those people are still there in our lives, just spread out. It makes us realize how fortunate we are. Tonight, a year apart from that weekend, we are sitting in our apartment that now has not one but TWO leaking rooms (one from the ceiling, one from the floor. go figure), and my husband got so mad when I showed him our sopping wet carpet that he sent an awesomely angry email to our building manager who has made the choice to not take us seriously for over a year now (reason #534 that we're happy we rent and don't own! ). The ceiling continues to bead with drops of water even though the rain stopped hours ago. But it is our wedding anniversary, and the thought of my life now with Jim, our cat, and our families, just makes me so happy. Even with the drips. I'll leave you with this picture that Kris took on our wedding day that made me so pleased when I first saw it. October 25, 2008 was a bear of a fall day in Saugatuck Michigan. Rain in the morning, wind, threatening rain all afternoon, goosebumps aplenty, and Kris managed to forever immortalize this strip of blue sky on our wedding day: -)

10/18/2009 Birthday party madness

We ventured to Oak Park yesterday for our nephew's birthday party. He is turning FOUR this week, which is so hard to believe. It was not that long ago when I received the text saying he had been born (ironically, while sitting in my "Death, Loss, and Grief" class in grad school- the announcement allowed me to leave with a definite pep in my step instead of the morose way we usually filed out of there! ). At that time he was Jim's new nephew, and it's been a joy for me to watch that title evolve into "OUR nephew. " Long-term relationships come with many benefits. It's been so much fun watching him grow up into the amazing little boy he is today. When we walked into the house yesterday, it was pure madness (or, as one father described to us, similar to a prison riot). Kids shrieking, yelling, banging things- all organized chaos. In talking to the other adults you had to raise your voice louder than at a bar on a Saturday night. We arrived to a blur of children running around and around the dining room table. Our nephew shot past in a flash of maize and blue. He happened to look up and when he saw us, got a huge grin on his face, and exclaimed, "Heyyy! ! !" He is such a genuine, sweet boy. He sang happy birthday to himself along with all the other kids and was excited about every present he opened. Years ago, I babysat for this family whose boys were so overindulged that in a corner of their playroom sat a pile of presents that they didn't even care to open. Those kids had so much, that nothing was even special for them anymore. To this day, I think that has been one of the saddest things I've ever witnessed. The level of appreciation that has developed in our nephew for the people in his life, for activities and presents, has been a pleasure to see. It will be exciting to watch as he continues to evolve into his own person. I know his life can take him in a million different directions from here, but I think this kid is off to a great start.

10/16/2009 Homework!

I've been taking a creative writing class at StoryStudio Chicago for the past few weeks. It's been a lot of fun. The best part is just being in a classroom again. Gee wiz I sure like it! We have writing assignments and HOMEWORK. I was good and tried doing some of it last weekend right after the class (we each drew slips of paper and had to write about the person described. I got "tollbooth attendant on a Monday morning. " I named her Louise).

However I sort of waited on finishing the rest until this evening. I guess procrastination never truly abandons us. I went out with some of my coworkers after work today for a drink, and as I was sipping my martini and thinking about the start of the weekend I thought, hmmm, now that I'm imbibing, maybe I should have done my homework earlier! But that thought didn't last too long as my attention returned to my 4 coworkers and our immense pride in ourselves for actually GOING OUT after work- as in, SEEING EACH OTHER OUTSIDE OF THE OFFICE. Not only that, but a group of us actually peeled ourselves away from the computer and the phone and ate lunch TOGETHER today and AWAY FROM OUR DESKS. This never happens. And it made me happy.

With this feeling of satisfaction, I got home and was picking up the cat and cooing into his face and telling him how much I love him, when that rotten animal lunged at me with his TEETH, hard, so that I now have this huge scratch going down my nose. I mean what kind of "congrats on being halfway done with being on call" greeting is that? That boy is in some trouble. So, I cleaned up my nose, sat down on the couch, and worked on finishing my assignment for tomorrow.

And I wanted to share this assignment, because I've really enjoyed working on it and it's a good "get me started" exercise. We were all given a copy of the poem Where I'm From by George Ella Lyon (who I guess is a woman named George? ? ). What we had to do was make our own version of the poem. We read our rough drafts in class last week and had to polish them up for tomorrow. Y'all should try it- it's kinda cool to see what comes to mind!

Here's mine:

I am from Windex,
from the wet vac and the spot remover
I am from the hobbly nobbly roots
and the shade that never allowed the annuals to grow.
I’m from the lilac bush,
deep purple piercing through the windshield gleam
on a country dirt road,
its shoots rescued by DeLisle women
before the earth was churned into a subdivision.

I am from Shake n’ Bake pork and mashed potato flakes.
Keep your elbows off the table, and
Say Please and Thank you.
Place the fork and knife on the side of your plate when you’re done.
I’m from green customs labels and packages on the doorstep,
chocolate digestives, custard creams, and ginger snaps
nestled within bubble wrap and
Marks and Spencer socks.
I’m from the cacophony of barks and toe nails
scrambling on Pergo floors
to the frightened person standing on the porch.

I’m from latchkey mornings and papers to grade,
Working parents dissolving in the June warmth. One summer was filled with musty library books and crinkly laminated covers,
the “Shelby Township’s top readers” headline rolled into the newspaper box,
and my sister’s face in newsprint.
Then came a crisp morning and we trudged off,
backpacks bouncing with each step
taken through the dew.

Lindsay Walker Rhodes