Look Homeward, Angel

Having spent only about a week back home in Metrolina, we've already driven more than we do in a month in Chicago -- and that's not counting the time spent driving down from the Windy City (13:42, btw. A new best record!)

These are the things that upset me about returning to the ancestral homeland. I have spent more time sitting in a car seat this week than I care to remember. Something that didn't used to be a big deal. But walking around Chicago and hitting the much-maligned CTA each day has changed the way I live to the point that the way I used to live seems almost foreign.

Which is why I was glad to ride the Lynx this week after coming home. The new light rail in Charlotte beats the CTA on cleanliness, quiteness, speed and, well, everything except for being everywhere. But give it time.

While I wait for the next 15-20 years for Charlotte to finish the light-rail system, I can dodge cars while walking the dog in Concord where sidewalks are apparently considered a socialist plot. In our neighborhood in Chicago, you only have to worry about being plowed down by bike riders, not rusty minivans and sparkling new pickup trucks.

I can walk to or from the train for work each day, walk the dog at close to midnight or walk to the store in the middle of the day and be just one of many pedestrians in Chicago. In Concord, I am Legend. Just me and my dog outside while the zombies stay inside watching TV or gaming online.

The urban life is possible here, of course. Just wandering around the city, you can see the new life in Uptown Charlotte and everything popping up around the light rail. There's even a new vegetarian cafe in downtown Concord. Unfortunately, for every townhome built, there's a dozen cookie cutter houses, for every urban village there's 20 strip malls. Things can change. It just takes time.

After the storm

For those of you back home in NC, or those other places where it just doesn't snow that much, a little taste of our New Chicago Life.

It's on now

http://www.weather.com/weather/newscenter/alerts/USIL0225?alertId=145464&from=36hr_winterWarn_dailytraveler

Cold. So Cold.

Coming back to Chicago around midnight after driving all day from Charlotte, we found the apartment freezing cold. Visions of Laura Ingalls struggling through the Long Winter flashed before our eyes as we huddled in bed.

And it's only gotten colder since then.

Today was the first 20 degreeish windy Chicago day. The big day is arriving: Time to get out the new coats we bought from LL Bean. I'll let you know if they really work as well as the Bean says they do.

You'll love this weather when it's -20 in February

Winter is here. Or, what would pass for the dead of winter in NC. Although I hear they have it quite chilly down there this week too. Unfortunately, this is merely the beginning for us.

K has finally convinced me to turn on the heat. I don't see why we can't go a few more days without. I think I look quite dashing sitting on the couch in a scarf and coat.

Now that it's cold enough to take 15 minutes of preparation just to get the mail from the porch, I've decided to take on a massive painting project in the apartment that requires the windows to be open all day on the weekend while K studies in her office with the door closed and a space heater running while sitting at her desk under a blanket with a heating pad.

I'm not sure what the problem is.

Charlotte stays on track

Yesterday Mecklenburg County voters decided to take the long view and chose, in overwhelming fashion, to keep the transit tax.

Despite the efforts of an angry and vocal minority to undermine the progress Charlotte has made in the last 10-15 years toward correcting the mistakes of the past, enough people could see through what was really just a selfish campaign fueled more by anger at the Bobcats than by any sensible vision for Charlotte's future.

Charlotte is a banking city and knows a good investment when it sees one. The Light-Rail system, LYNX, and the CATS bus system are poised to play vital roles in the future of Charlotte. I'm glad that, even though I couldn't vote this year, enough people care about Charlotte's future to see this project through.

In your face, libertarians.

Shopping cart derby

With the CTA, as bedraggled as it is, I don't have to do much driving anymore. Most of my drive time is spent going to the supermarket, Target or some similar location.

Places where Chicagoans love to leave shopping carts sitting around.

Unlike anywhere else I've lived, including rude little Baltimore, Chicago just doesn't seem to feel like walking the few feet to the cart corral, instead leaving carts clustered in parking spaces -- threatening the Prius with their sharp corners and rusty handles.

Just look at them.

Like Sun Drop in Concord and Row Houses in Baltimore, is the shopping cart cluster some kind of folk culture in Chicago? Have I stumbled upon some strange tradition I've yet to decipher?

Or are Chicagoans just laszy jerks when they go to the store?

Just a few more to catch up

The Red Sox Win! The Red Sox Win!

Coming off of a rather frustrating weekend of paint-related customer service nightmares, this win really helped to lift my mood. The inevitablity of the win was, although strange, not such a bad fit.

Sure, a Game 6 or 7 nailbiter would have been more exciting, but this team has the best record in baseball, has worked hard over more than 160 games and, quite frankly, has a lot of catching up to do.

I just hope the Sox don't repeat the pattern of the last century: Winning 5 out of the first 15 World Series in the 20th century, them going 86 years without. But, even so, that means there are at least 3 more left this century.

Why did I log on?

You ever log on to Blogger with some great idea for a post, then forget what it was?

The good thing is this lack of a purpose doesn't necessarily have to ruin the general quality and flow of my blog. I could just keep typing and see what words come out, not having to worry about disappointing anyone.

It sure is getting cold up here. Yep. Like, really cold.

The Red Sox sure are beating up on the Rockies, huh?

I like peanut butter.

I love that dirty water

Watching game 7 last night was nerve-wracking.

You see, Boston has a way of screwing these things up in a big way, 2004 notwithstanding.

So I was nervous, even when the Red Sox were in double digits and Cleveland was still at 2.

But you have to believe.

The two best teams in baseball fought it out all the way to 7 games. But I was sick of Fox playing "Cleveland Rocks" every 10 minutes from games 2-4.

Another great comeback story. And now on to the WS.

It's probably time to start campaigning

With November just around the corner, it's time to get serious about the presidential election. can you believe, it's almost a whole year until the election? That there are still more than 365 days left before this finally ends?


God.


Well, as the second year of campaigning begins, it's probably time to start paying attention. Besides, I think the Democratic debate scheduled for our apartment is coming up soon. Need to find some vegan junk Kucinich can eat and make room for all the Secret Service and staffers. I just hope Kayla doesn't get excited. We don't need an incident ...

Note to Bill Richardson: Puedes contestar nuestras preguntas en espanol si quieres. De verdad, queremos que lo hagas.

Note to Dodd: If you have extra tickets to Fenway for the World Series, you have my vote!

I checked the calendar. There really is just one.

Who knew October was about more than pumpkin beer and free candy?

I only just started paying attention to baseball a year ago, and I can't understand why it took me so long to start watching. Seeing the Cubs collapse after such a promising season was kind of sad, but we're committed Red Sox fans, so their sweep of the Angels more than made up for it.

Maybe I could have been watching when the Red Sox won the World Series in 2004, instead of just watching the DVD three years later.

I guess I'll just have to settle for watching them win this year.

Oxford American Music Issue 2007

After several weekends of wandering around Chicago bookstores looking for it, I finally decided to to make use of the telephone and call the Border's on Michigan Avenue. It took the girl a while to get back to me after saying she'd go look for it, which made me a bit nervous, but my annual hunt has proven successful!

26 smokin tunes covering the broad and complex spectrum of Southern music. I'm no expert, i don't spend hours digging through the LPs and CDs at the grungiest, most ironic music store I can find (You know who you are), but these yearly albums consistently yield a fantastic, eclectic mix of great music spanning decades, races and genres and geography.

If you like good music, buy it.

Uh ... how does this affect our Super Bowl chances?

Oh Jake.

The Panthers did manage to beat New Orleans without him on Sunday, but you'd think it might have been a little easier to beat a team that hasn't actually won yet this season.

I knew this was going to be a rough season, but ... man.

I suppose it's possible that this could shake things up and give some unknown the chance to come out of the shadows and rock the rest of the season.

Yeah. That's it!

At least I have the Red Sox to fall back on. I'm not sur eif I should root for the Yankees to win this game to keep the series going for as long as possible to wear the winner out, or just hope for a quick end.

Watching sports is hard.

iPods and Rotten Apples

I love my iPod. Really, it's pretty much the coolest thing I've ever owned, it's convenient and works seamlessly.

It should, since it's practically brand new.

Technically we got the iPod as a gift more than a year ago, but after several problems with the original suddenly refusing to work for weeks at a time, we finally gave up and drove down to Charlotte from Concord in July to replace it. We figured the long trip would be worth it, since we were getting ready to move up here to Chicago and wouldn't have time to have a replacement delivered.

After waiting 45 minutes just for an appointment with one of their black-shirted "Geniuses," we had the opportunity to have this certified Apple expert click the on-off button and hold down the menu and select buttons like it says on the Web site, then tell us it doesn't work and we'd need a replacement.

Uh, yeah.

He then told us it would cost $29 to replace our iPod, even though it was still under the original 1-year warranty. (Fortunately, we had just bought the extended warranty, but I still don't understand how Apple can charge me $30 to replace their defective product. Even if it's for shipping and handling, isn't it their job to suck up the costs in the name of customer service?)

But I digress. So I tell Mr. Genius with the backward baseball cap, "But hey I have the extended warranty." "Oh, no problem, we can get you a replacement right now." Great, right?

Well, even though I ordered the warranty online, and this is a cutting-edge technology company, he tells me I can't activate the warranty until the warranty package comes in the mail. So he can't help us. Seriously.

I definitely don't need a genius to tell me what every other customer service rep has ever told me "Uh, sorry, I can't help you."

We should have argued our case, but hungry and frustrated we returned home, where I proceeded to get lost in Apple's confusing customer service Web site before finally getting tangled in their Phone Tree. Once I reached a live human being, he told me he could activate my new warranty over the phone without the package and send us a box so we could replace the iPod. All I needed to do was open the e-mail with my order confirmation and read him a number. Something the Genius at the store could have done, since the store is, big shock, filled with computers.

I explain to the phone guy that we are moving in 2 weeks, and he says no problem, becuase the new iPod will arrive in 10 days -- plenty of time. Even despite some issues with DHL, we managed to send the old iPod back to Apple in time.

But then they decide to tell me that, since the iPod was engraved, it will actually take 2 more weeks to send the replacement ipod, since all the engraving is done in China. (Something the guy on the phone knew when he told me it would take just 10 days). Apparently even though there are plenty of places to get a cigar case engraved for Father's Day, only China has ipod engraving technology.

So after several angry phone calls to change the delivery address to Chicago, and missed delivery dates, we finally get our replacement iPod. And like I said, it's great.

But despite several phone calls to complain about my treatment, I have received nothing more than empty apologies and no results.

I am absolutely apalled at the way we were treated by Apple throughout the process, from the unhelpful store clerk with an attitude to the uninformed phone help to the fact that Apple actually expected us to shell out $30 to replace their broken product. And judging by the way Steve Jobs and his minions have treated iPhone customers lately, I can only deduce that this terrible attitude comes directly from the top.

The only way Apple gets away with their awful customer service is because they know people will always want the next cool thing. Apple isn't the revolutionary start-up it was when it broadcast that "1984" ad during the Super Bowl. It's just another monolithic, indifferent corporation like any other. That shift is bound to come back to bite them in the end.

Your T-Shirt is so Ironic!

Southwest Airline's wardrobe police have been busy lately, having already told two women to cover up their apparently skimpy outfits before boarding a plane. A couple of sad moments for an airline that started with stewardesses in miniskirts and gogo boots.

Now a guy has been acosted, thist time not for showing too much skin but for the words on his T-Shirt.

I have to admit, my collection of ironic printed Ts is pretty extensive, but I've made the effort to keep the words and images I walk around in at the G-Rated level. I've seen plenty of guys walking around with words and pictures printed on their chests that would make a sailor blush. And if I had kids, I wouldn't want them to see these words everywhere they go.

What really bothers me about the Master Baiter T-Shirt is not simply the vulgar inuendo, but the fact that the guys who buy them think 1) I'm so clever and/or 2) I'm expressing myself.

First, unless you actually printed the shirt yourself, you aren't clever. And it's not even that funny anyway. And what are you expressing, anyway? Your middle school sense of humor?

I don't know if it's really Southwest's job to police our clothing, but I'm glad someone has brought attention to the fact that some of these shirts are just plain wrong. Just because we can print just about any vulgar, crude thing on our clothing, doesn't mean we should. it takes all the fun out of the better shirts.

Charlotte Transit, the view from Chicago

Some of the comments I've seen swirling around the transit tax issue in Charlotte seem based on the theory that pro-transit people are either trying to take away people's cars or bulldoze their front yards. The same rumors and acusations were common in 1998 when we decided to create the tax.

This conspiracy theory sets up an unnecessary conflict between urban and suburban cultures, and threatens to do serious damage to my home city.

No one wants your car, and I don't really care how big your yard is. Public transit isn't about taking your car away or forcing you to live in a highrise. It's about giving all people a real choice of how they want to live and how they want to get around.

We've lived in Chicago for two months now, and we have driven less than 300 miles since moving in, thanks to the CTA. Notice that I said driven. We still have our car, and yes we do use it. But because we have an extensive transit system here, we can decide: Do we use transit or not, do we own two cars or one, or none at all?

Unfortunately, living in Charlotte and Asheville, there was no choice: Two cars for two people. We managed to get by with one car in Baltimore by living two blocks from where K worked, but it was incredibly inconvenient whenever the normal routine was altered.

Building Light Rail in Charlotte isn't about taking away your car, it's about letting the rest of us get rid of one, or both, of our own. It's about using your car and transit together for different trips. Take the train to work, drive to the supermarket. Take the train to the Panthers game, but drive out to SouthPark.

We have that kind of freedom here, why can't Charlotte have it too?

Speaking of the Chicago transit funding debacle

I remember reading last year about how there are only two transit systems in the world that actually operate in the black. Unfortunately, I can't figure out where that article is now, so I'm not sure which cities they are. I believe they are Tokyo and Hong Kong.

Fortunately, the identity of the cities is not important. The way they pay for their public transit is. Two words: real estate.

The model works thusly: The transit system owns plenty of the land within walking distance of its train stations, develops said land into apartments, condos, offices and retail, then pumps most of the profits back into the transit system. It's a self-perpetuating cycle. The transit attracts the development, the development then attracts more riders to the transit.

Chicago would do well to copy this strategy wherever possible. Obviously the CTA doesn't own much land near its stations, but some properties must be ripe for the building. The empty lot next to where the CTA is going to build the new Paulina station would be an excellent place for a new restaurant with offices above it. If they soundproof the building well enough they could even build apartments.

And the CTA isn't the only agency that could take advantage of this. I walk by METRA's Ogilvie Transportation Center every day on the way to work. It takes up a few city blocks in the West Loop, which is supposedly growing. How hard would it be to build a new office tower on top of the train station? Perhaps even condos and/or a hotel above the offices, with a great view of the skyline and the Chicago river.

Dunkin Donuts stands in the subway just aren't going to cut it. Even Chicago can eat only so many Boston Creams.

This is a city that reversed the course of a river just because it could. Plus, Chicago is known for its innovative architecture, and this would be an excellent challenge to some of the city's best firms.

And it would keep my 30 day passes from jumping to $84 a month.

Where's the Bumblebee Man and the Dancing Girls?

Speaking of cable, why is it that CNN en Espanol is so much better than CNN en ingles?

There was a time, and yes I'm old enough to remember, when CNN was the channel you watched for real news. Having lived without cable for about half a decade, I was surprised by just how ridiculous and angry it's become. The pundits shout and hawk their books, the news is all Paris Hilton and car crashes, and the morning anchor's legs get more air time than the actual news.

At the same time, CNN en Espanol is serious, produces in-depth stories, covers news from around the world and touches on important issues. Nothing like the news on Univision, with Walter Mercado's drag act, the dancing girls on the sports shows -- that's Spanish news. Right?

The folks in Atlanta need to learn some Spanish and start watching their canale hermana for some tips on how to do a news broadcast.

A la Carte Cable

Over the summer we had the chance to watch a lot of cable in the basement in Cornbob, and when looking into what kind of internet to get in Chicago, we happened upon a billboard touting a deal on cable.

And so for the last month or so we've been alternatelty surfing the web and wondering why we're paying for 90 channels we don't really watch.

So what the hell ever happened to this whole cable a la carte program the FCC was all giddy about last year or so? The only thing that any agency run by the Bush administration has done that I actually agree with is meeting the same success as the war.

Right now we're paying for about 90 channels, but only watch 10 at most. But there are other channels out there I'd like to have, but don't. So why can't I just pay for the channels I want to watch?

Those other 80 channels are just a bunch of freeloaders, hoping that my love of those 10 channels will be enough to subsidize their terrible programming. If I could pay just for the channels I want, I might actually watch more TV. In fact, there might even be more channels I like, since they'd all have to compete for audiences instead of just riding on the coattails of those dozen or so channels that don't suck.

I don't suppose RCN wants to be that first company to stick its neck out.

How many candles?

So it was recently made known to me that I am actually not 28 years old as I had thought, but rather 29.

I'm not really sure how I managed to forget this particular fun fact about myself, but it does make a lot more sense, since being born in 1978 would mean I hit a nice, round 10 every year that ends in 8.

So somehow I managed to lose a whole year, which seems about par for the course, since we seem to keep losing things around here. Some photos, some clothes, 365 days, a few really nice pens.

I don't know how to approach this whole 30 thing. It's the new 20, but I was kind of a screw up in my early 20s, so maybe that makes this a do-over decade? Is the fact that I lost a year proof of my old age, or just more evidence of my clumsly record-keeping?

Yeah, when you turn 30 it really makes you start to think about things ...

Weather Watch

Well, forget what I said about it getting cold in Chicago already. It's, like, 84 degrees out and I'm wearing shorts. We even turned the air conditioner back on for the first time in about a week and a half.

This time last week I was pulling my sweaters out of storage.

But this too shall pass, and we'll begin to see the real Chicago fall. The weather can't fool us. We'll begin looking for our new arctic coats this weekend. Until then, it's good to walk around under those bright blue skies and think, "I love Chicago!"

For now.

Big Weekend part 2: Uff-Dah!

With the DMV behind us, we made the long drive even further from home, past the city limits out into the mysterious nether regions of the Chicagoland Suburbs. Our goal was to reach the blue and yellow Swedish mecca of inexpensive-yet-quality furnishings.

It had been about 3 years or so since our last trip to IKEA, that time in White Marsh, MD, and we had finally managed to forget how overwhelming it can be. We were ready.

The big blue box called to us as the Prius wound its way through the maze of highways. We were ready to be amazed by the Swedish technology and elegantly functional design. We gazed, stupifyed, at the escalators made FOR YOUR SHOPPING CART. Seriously, the Nordic peoples are far ahead of us in retail technology. We must overtake them or face destru -- hey, cool, it looks like a whole apartment in here!

What? Oh, it's crowded too. Those Swedes may make cool furniture and warm bedding, but they pack it all in so tight that no one can get around with a shopping cart. The circular design of the multilevel store had the look of a modern, cosmopolitan, Eurpoean version of the circles of Hell.

You need a plan when you go to IKEA. (Folks in the Charlotte area, keep this in mind when the new one opens.) If you don't know exactly what you want, you'll end up buying all sorts of things. We did well on that part. Not having much money also helps. What we didn't figure on was a plan of attack. We just wandered aimlessly amid the artful wall hangings, functional-yet-stylish kitchenware and other fine things while getting progressively more anxious until giving up to eat Swedish apple cake.

Thus refreshed, we bought an excellent new comforter that will defintely keep us warm this winter (It's really three in one, awesome!), a knife and collander and a really nice kitchen table. We then merely had to wait through a line at the register rivaled only by those at the DMV we;d just left before being able to cart our things to the car and make the long, long journey back home on overcroweded toll roads.

There are some other things we'd like to get at IKEA, and we just found an coupon we'd meant to bring with us. Maybe in a year we'll be up to the task. I do like that table, though.

Big Weekend part I: What's the yellow circle mean?

It is official. We woke up early on Saturday, gathered all the pertinent paperwork, and a little extra just in case, and drove out to the Chicago West Illinois DMV office to finally make ourselves legal.

We'd been living in the state of Illinois sin documentos since August. Really, though, we meant to go to the DMV right away, but I kinda sorta lost the NC car title, and we had to write a check, fill out a form, get it notarized and wait 3 weeks for the NC DMV to send us a copy of the NC title so we could turn it in to pay more money to get a new Illinois title.

Oh, and the matter of the driver's licenses. What fun!

We expected a mob scene like at the Mondawmin Mall DMV office in Baltimore, and the line was discouraging. But then we got hearded into a shorter line being formed just for tag and title, and things proceeded quickly under the guidance of loud and unhelpful employees who wouldn't answer questions. So far, shitty, but typical.

But then we entered into a -- relatively -- well-oiled machine that included at least a few surprisingly pleasant cogs. Like the woman who advised me on what kind of coat to wear for a Chicago winter, or the woman who politely refused to tell me which one of us did better on the written driver's test.

One thing we learned is that if one of the multiple choice answers is "All of the Above," that's the one -- no matter what the DMV book says.

We have moved six times in the last seven years and have, consequently, had to go to a lot of DMV offices. I can say for sure that, despite the long lines and other rude employees, the Illinois DMV is pretty efficient. Normally only about a quarter of the workstations at a DMV office are open, but every single one had someone in it. Now, it's up to God or the fates or some mystical force whether you walk up to the one with the the cheerful employee or the deranged one, but at least it's fast -- well, faster.

Red means stop.

It's just been over a month since we moved to Chicago, and it was nice at first to see all the people biking around the city. Getting exercise, cutting down on pollution -- what's not to love? I've always tried to be careful when driving near bikers, and I support adding bike lanes to city streets.

But after just a few days of watching bike riders flying through red lights and stop signs, weaving in and out of traffic and nearly getting themselves killed or causing accidents -- I'm not so sure.

Bike riders complain all the time about how they don't get any respect, how they want to be treated like any other drivers on the road. Well, when it suits them, anyway.

You can't act like a driver one second and a pedestrian the next. Follow the rules of the road, or walk like the rest of us.

Old Man Winter's on his w-- oh wait. He's here

What happened? I was wearing shorts and a T-shirt yesterday, and all of a sudden it's freezing cold this morning. I figured we'd have at least a few good weeks of that nice, warmish-cool weather here in Chicago -- the kind when you turn off the AC and open some windows, but still wear sandals outside.

Well, boy. I ain't from around here. According to some co-workers, this is pretty much how the seasons are in the Windy City (did I mention it's also windy?). One day it's hot, the next it's cold.

Very efficient, really. If only there had been a little warning, though.

Dog Days at Montrose Beach

I'm not sure how things ended up this way, but we actually had to move several hundred miles futher inland in order for Kayla to finally go to the beach. Chicago may not let people legally bring their dogs to outdoor cafes yet, but there are several dog parks throughout the city.

Quality varies from tiny paved squares next to the L tracks to the dog beach at Montrose, sectioned off from the people beach to the south. I don't know if it was simply the Labor Day holiday or if the dog beach is always this popular, but it was crowded.

Considering her shy, homeschoolgirl act whenever we've taken her to other dog parks, I figured that the sheer number of dogs would once again intimidate her into sticking by us. Instead, Kayla ran and jumped and even swam just a bit in the lake.

Maybe she's always been waiting to go to the beach.

Wait, can we go back to Mexico?

Seriously, this whole working full-time thing isn't so great. They expect you to stay there, for like 8 hours or something, and you can't just surf the Web either.

The work itself isn't a problem, and this place has tons of snacks and great coffee.

But, can't we just go back to Mexico, study Spanish, eat tacos and take pictures of the goats and colorful buildings? Remember the posts from Mexico City? Wasn't that fun?

You know it was, which is why I'm making the following offer:

We all know you loved reading our Mexico blog. Probably the highlight of many a day. At the same time, writing that blog was the highlight of our days.

So if you would all just send regular cash donations care of this blog, we can go back and have more fun adventures for you to read about. And remember, just because it's 12 pesos to the dollar doesn't mean things cost less there, so don't skimp. Well, okay. The beer is cheaper, but I want Mexican cable and a DVD player this time.

Gracias.

RE: August 28-30

Man. Fucking Yankees.

Report from Tecki Storm Center 9

As many of you know, a ginormous storm struck the city of Chicago on Thursday. Only now can I fully report the harrowing events of that night.

It was a bright, sunny day in Chicago. The heat was beating down on us as we travelled to the Law School campus to buy K's books. Even as we rode the L home, there was no sign of the trouble to come.

We got home, and I started doing the dishes that had piled up from the morning. After a few minutes, rain started to lightly sprinkle the window by the sink, and lightening flashed somewhere in the distance.

Before I could remember whether it was true that lightning can strike you through the pipes in the sink, the sky exploded, pounding the house with sheets of rain and driving winds. I decided to stop doing the dishes.

A car alarm went off behind the house, and I opened the door to see if it was ours, and the wind blew the door open. I walked out on our porch, confirmed that the car was in good shape -- then I noticed that it was raining from the ceiling, and I saw that the trap door that leads to the roof was gone. I braved the wet ladder to find the trap door gone, possibly for good.

In front of the house, hurricane-like winds threatened to knock down trees and powerlines, and the power went out. K, fortunately, was on the phone with C, so she didn't notice the danger we were in.

We were forced to cook on the gas stove without the benefit of a timer or even electric light, but somehow managed to get some sustenance. It was when we sat down to eat that we noticed: water was coming in from the window -- but it was closed! Thinking on our feet, we grabbed some old towels and layed them carefully in front of the window, soaking up the dripping torrent.

Fearing a flood, we opened up our emergency plan from Baltimore. Without the Huxtables' SUV to tow our car to the outskirts of town, most of the plan was hopelessly out of date. Fortunately, we salvaged some parts of the plan and packed Kayla into the giant blue Rubbermaid container to float her out to safety. Getting her in wasn't easy, as she didn't seem to trust the container's seaworthiness, but we finally threw some treats inside and she stopped struggling.

We had a hard time dragging the container down the stairs and out the door, but we finally made it outside into the lightly drizzling storm. Trees were down and other people's cars were crushed. We managed to float the container and Kayla over the puddles forming on the streets and pushed on, carefully stepping over wet leaves and broken branches, to reach the Whole Foods.

We picked up a Red Eye newspaper box and threw it through the plate glass window, startling the employees and customers in line at the registers. K ran through the aisles, grabbing ice, artisanal cheeses, environmentally friendly facial moisturizer and small-batch craft beers. I stood by the window with a shard of glass to ward off the criminal element. Everyone else there, obviously in shock from the disaster, stood and stared at us as we loaded up the container, trying to keep Kayla from jumping back out, then heaved it back outside through the broken window.

The rain was picking up again by then, and we decided to go back inside. We dragged the container, now much heavier with all the provisions, back up the stairs and locked our doors to keep out looters.

With no power, no cable and no phone, we had no word from the outside world. How long before the storm would pass? Had the city completely broken down? When would the president send in the army to restore order and rescue us?

Tired from our adventure, we threw the ice in the fridge and freezer to protect the artisanal cheese and chill the beer, then decided to go to bed. We huddled together in fear, eventually falling asleep to the gentle sound of the rain falling against the roof.

You can tell by this post that we survived that terrible night. Let this be a lesson to you: Make sure you update your emergency plans, and keep a clear head. It could happen to you.

In the Loop

Took another trip down to the Loop today, this time for a job interview at a staffing agency. Nice people, we'll see what happens. It's always a bit disappointing leaving a staffing agency, since you never know if they really will "get back to you."

Walking around downtown Chicago in a business suit with a courier bag slung over my shoulder, I certainly looked important and employed, at least to the homeless people asking me for money. Seeing the look of mistrust on the T-shirted and beared young men off to do hip things, I realized that I was the man. Sorry, The Man. I don't really mind as much as I thought I would.

All those big tall buildings and Dunkin' Donuts stores beckon. I wonder which ones I'll end up in (both office and donut shop, equally important). This job hunt doesn't seem as disheartening or desperate as those in the past. Having experience this time, and a much bigger job market, helps.

Another interview tomorrow, this one for a job that actually exists right now. Hopefully I won't screw up, since it sounds like a good one. I won't say more just so I won't jinx it.

I can say this. I can't wait for the CTA to finish rebuilding all these stations to fit longer trains, because I have seen too many people, I've been one, get left behind by a full train after waiting too long in the first place.

City Life.

WHAAAAAT????!?!

THE AIRPLANES ARE ROARING OVERHEAD! CAN'T HEAR YOU!!

WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE SHOW IS TWO DAYS LONG??!!

Death From Above

Sitting at my little folding table/desk in the ManNook yesterday, everything was pretty quiet, shaping up to be another long day of job searching, letter writing and desperation.

Then the fighter jets started buzzing the neighborhood.

One after another, jets zoomed loudly overhead, rattling the windows and setting off car alarms. Hicks that we are, we rushed to the windows each time the rumbling started and watched military fighters twisting in the air.

Just another day in the big city? Anti-terror drills by the Air Force? Rich Chicagoans commuting by private jet? Anything seemed possible, but it was all just noisy preparations for the Air & Water Show taking place today.

With bad weather on the way and K's natural fear of big crowds, we won't be going. Besides, we've had enough already.

Sun to rise in morning

I have only been living in Chicago for little more that 2 weeks, but I already know that this headline isn't necessary:

Construction to affect service along CTA lines

We've heard quite a bit about how the Boston T is much better, and we've experienced even better train systems, say in Barcelona or Mexico City.

I wasn't really sure what to think of the L. The above-ground rail lines don't do much for the property values, I'm sure. And they don't really provide enough shelter from the weather, considering that the summers, so far, are incredibly hot and rainy and that the winters are brutal.

But, I still kinda like it. Watching the trains rattle down the line over Paulina, and the people and cars on the streets underneath -- like those little matchbox city sets with every type of vehicle.

Only a wee bit dirtier.

What I did today

We have unloaded all of the boxes that were piled up on the back porch into a recycling dumpster in the 7/11 parking lot. I had to have K direct me out of the parking pad becuase I couldn't see beyond the boxes piled in the back seat of the Prius.

We've also managed to fill up the house's 2 trash cans again only 2 days after trash day. Although, the girl who moved out of the apartment had something to do with that as well. Turns out all her stuff has been sitting in the basement since the 3rd, waiting for her to pick it up and head west to LA. She and her boyfriend came today to pick it up, blocking the Prius in the parking pad so that we couldn't leave for the recycling center until after it had started to rain.

But, the porch is cleared out -- mostly. A few things still need to be thrown out. I'm not sure what to do with the porch. It is entirely enclosed with what appears to be simple plywood, except for two medium-sized windows. It isn't much to look at, and the landlord really, really wants to finish painting it white. I really, really don't think it will look any more inviting, but whatever. More windows would definitely help.

Sweet Home Chicago

The only problem with living in a neighborhood surrounded by great restaurants and stores is not having an income to patronize them with.

We have set down our roots once more, this time in the City of Big Shoulders. The drive up wasn't so bad, although by the end of the first day of our caravan everyone was making mistakes, so we stopped at a Super 8 somewhere in Indiana that allows dogs. The pet policy and the free body wash were the only highlights, but at least nobody broke into the moving van overnight.

Traffic was moving right along until we hit the Chicago Skyway and all other freeways as we wound our way into the city. Even the underfunded CTA trains delayed by massive renovation and construction projects were moving faster.

Once the three guys we hired to carry everything upstairs were done, we unpacked for three days. Some people told us we'd be ready to get rid of it all after a year without our stuff, but as we opened each box and unwrapped the contents, it was like Christmas. Sure there are a few things we need to take to Goodwill (or whatever they have here), but on the whole we're happy to have our own stuff again.

Our apartment is within walking distance of several stores, bars and restaurants, a pharmacy, vet, groceries and the El. Only, we have to be careful just how much we enjoy it all at the moment, with me unemployed and K's student loans unavailable for a couple more weeks.

And so here I am, blogging for you people when I should be looking for a job, right? Well, yes.

What the hell.

What will they do next?!

Wasps Menace State Department Headquarters

-- I always thought they were more of a threat to housing prices in the few affordable neighborhoods still remaining in the district. I don't know what the big deal is though. Quite frankly, Foggy Bottom could use a few more Paneras and Starbucks.

Chicagoland

We got a taste of Chicago last week as we went apartment hunting. Fortunately we did not go to the festival, or we would be counting ourselves among the many who got sick from food at one booth.

Turns out Chicago is bigger than Charlotte or Baltimore, maybe even both of them combined, so we weren't prepared for the long train ride from the airport to our hotel in Evanston (a northern suburb), and had to frantically call to cancel or postpone appointments we had naively made for that day. After wandering around the city for hours, we had managed to look at only one apartment we had come to see. The good news is that we got our money's worth out of our 7-day transit passes by the end of the second day.

Things were looking bleak when one landlord just sort of, you know, forgot to tell us he had already rented out the apartment we had made an appointment to see. Bummed out and a little pissed, we wandered around the same neighborhood for a while and just happened to find a smaller place much closer to the L and to the little neighborhood downtown. We called the number on the For Rent sign, made an appointment for 2 hours later, ate dinner and got us an apartment.

Well, technically we have applied for the apartment. The landlord had to leave town on business the next day and told us that he'd send the lease in about a week -- but he did take down the sign on the door, so that means we're in, right?

With the whole purpose of our trip accomplished and 4 full days left before our flight home, we spent the rest of the time exploring the city in heat, rain and wind (Not always at the same time) and got to know our soon-to-be new home.

What features does the iphone provide?

Comes with 98 different ringtones, each a recording of Steve Jobs explaining how cool and visionary Steve Jobs is

GPS feature automaticaly refers to user as the center of the universe

Uses a complex algorithim to determine which friends' calls should be answered based on how cool they are

Automatically deducts ridiculous sum of money from your bank account

Ignores the irony of you making fun of people who camped out for days to see the Star Wars prequels after you waited days at SouthPark to buy a new phone

makes you feel like James Bond, despite lousy job and bad haircut

Spank your inner child

K was at work the other night and overheard the managers, both young republicans, deeply engaged in a discussion of which car they would rather buy if they had all the money in the world: a Bently or a Lamborghini. they couldn't agree on a car, so they asked K what she thought.

"I'd really like a new Prius, the one with the new body style."

This response, of course, elicited moans and groans. How could anyone want that car when they could have any car in the world?

And it hit her: Republicans are like spoiled children.

Really, we've all known it for a long time. the republican party appeals to America's spoiled inner child. Want new freeways without a tax increase? You betcha! In fact, we'll cut all your taxes and still give you whatever you want. Now, let's go to war without any of you actually having to sacrifice anything.

That's why they hate liberals so much. We're the adults. We tell them they have to share the wealth by opening midnight basketball courts for poor kids, that SUVs caouse demage to the environment, or that they can't have their war without someone getting hurt -- then they just pout, get mad and turn up the O'Riley factor so loud it drowns us out.

Toby Keith is a jackass

I hate Nashville country. You know me. I listen to WNCW, have tons of Johnny Cash and Hank Sr on the ipod, and faithfully buy the Oxford American music issue every summer. So I was never a big fan of Mr. Keith to begin with.

When he said on the Colbert Report that he still wouldn't set aside his differences with the Dixie Chicks over certain comments about the relative sense of shame of being from the same state as the president on the eve of an unjustifiable war -- well, whatever. Big surprise.

But the thing he said next has been sticking in my craw. "I don't have to apologize for my patriotism."

I can't stand these fat-headed conservatives who think they have the monopoly on patriotism. as defined by them, patriotism is blindly following the president (oh, unless he's a democrat), looking the other way while the military is slowly being bled to death in Iraq, and calling French Fries, Freedom Fries.

I think. Yeah, I think an apology is in order. Actually. And that new song of his? Musical soft porn to make your mother blush, sir.

the Cup de Goooooold

I'm thinking I won't be going to South Africa for the next World Cup. We expect a lot of things to be going on in the Steadtecki household by 2010. law school graduation, moving (again), possibly a baby, the 200th anniversary of Mexican independence in Guanajuato (Reserve your hotel room now.).

So it's good that the US is plowing through the Gold Cup series. The Yanquis already knocked out several latino teams, and now face Little America in the semi-finals. I can't help but wonder, as K pointed out, that it seems strange that both countries from el Norte just happened to end up facing each other in the semi-final. It's almost as if the CONCACAF folks don't like the idea of an all-North-American championship. Maybe this was part of NAFTA, like the US-Canadian-Mexican beer specials at Casa Grande.

Anyway, I don't mind so much. If the US beats Canada tonight, and Mexico beats Guadaloupe (seriously?), we can see a rematch of the pre-season opener between the big rivals, all played against the backdrop of an intense national controversy over immigration.

I don't know about you, but plan on grabbing a good table at La Unica on Sunday if all goes well.

It's just too bad we don't already live in Chicago.

Mea culpa

Okay.

I think it's time I apologized for the absolutly lame and, quite frankly, bad posts lately.

I mean, fat people. There was something in there, I swear. But somewhere between driving home from the data entry cave and sitting down at the computer, I lost it. Sorry.

And that thing on how the US isn't so bad after all, well. Could have been better.

But, seriously. I'm ready now.

I knew it.

I have hated crocs from the beginning. from the matronly white women with big hats who wear them in the garden, to the aging hippies who wander around in them while sipping Starbucks Frappucinos, toDooglas, the tool who ruined a week and a half of our time in Mexico, I have always said that crocs are of the devil.

Chunky Monkies

I don't think it's okay to just make fun of fat people. As a former "person of heavier stature," I can recall the way some people treated me, especially in school.

But, a little shame goes a long way. Like today, in the breakroom at the office where I'm temping. Someone announced that there was leftover ice cream and pizza from a day camp they are running this week, and it didn't take much for the breakroom to fill up.

I waited a while before leaving the confines of my work area to fill my water bottle so the crowds would die down. Even then there were still people milling about, and above the music on my ipod I could clearly hear more than one person say "Oh, I shoudn't ..." then do it anyway.

Self control is not a bad thing. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to the ice cream place around the corner to silently judge all the fat people in line in front of me.

THis Land is My Land

I don't like to rant and rave much anymore. Must be a product of aging. And living in Mexico for awhile without a regular job helped mellow me out a bit. Every once in a while, something just sticks in your craw, tho', and there's no denying it. Still, I will try to keep myself from going overboard.

Over the last few years, starting in college, I've encountered plenty of people who more or less share the same political standing as I do. During this time I've come to realize just what it is much of America hates about us liberals. No one is really against universal healthcare or a living wage. Most folks think oil is a big problem. And a lot of folks are beginning to see that global warming could, just maybe, be a real threat.

Many people are passionately against reproductive rights and gay marriage, but these folks don't make up a majority of the population, yet it seems sometimes like the majority of folks really hate us. Why?

Because, like me, they're tired of hearing about everything that's wrong with our culture. Fast food, violent movies, lazy children and SUVs are not the end-all and be-all of what it means to be American. Many of my fellow liberals, some personal acquaintences in particular, equate America with all the wrongs in the world.

I am thinking of one person in particular as I write this. This person spent most of the time complaining about America and Americans, but could speak no wrong about foreign countries they had visited. They spent most of their time hanging out with other self-loathing Americans or with foreigners who shared the same view. All this Uncle Sam bashing feeding off of itself.

But, no nation is pure and good. The Spanish erradicated the Native Americans long before the British set foot in Jamestown. The British opressed the Irish. The Chinese continue to opress the Tibetans. Opressed Arabs, tired of living in slums and being treated like second-class citizens, were rioting in France not that long ago. Muslim fundamentalists are killing innocent people all around the world. We Americans have done worse and better.

Woody Guthrie could see what was wrong with America while still loving the land, its people and our ideals. He criticized rich factory owners who abused their workers, he sang about corruption in the government and opposed racism and sexism. He also supported the war effort in WWII, wrote "This Land is Your Land" and elevated the people of this country. I'd like to think of myself as coming from the same place.

This is the nation that killed the Indians, enslaved the Blacks and is destroying the environment. It's also the country that gave my great-grandparents a new opportunity, saved the world from fascism and created rock and roll.

On the whole, in comparison with other countries, that's not so bad.

On the to-do list

Three months into our new life in the states, and things are good. Like any non-native speaker, we need to continue practicing our Spanish. Even so, it's time to start looking at all those other things on the to-do list.

As I've continued growing up, I've begun to note things that seem to be a mark of, well, let's not say maturity, but at least being a grown-up.

In addition to the Spanish and parallel parking, there's also the tile-laying and other handy things I've learned on the Great Basement Upgrade of 'Aught 7, but there are certain skills that separate a guy from a man.

Things to learn:

• How to play pool -- for real this time (thanks to Rich and Marc for trying that one night at Pat's Time for One More)
• How to mix drinks like a bartender
• How to play poker and spades -- without freaking out every time we play K's mom
• How baseball works
• How football works
• How soccer works
• How to change a tire -- theoretically I do know this, but I've only ever watched my dad do it
• How to carry a conversation that doesn't devolve into politics or references to The Simpsons
• How to get out of situations I don't want to be in

That's probably not all I need to learn, but it's a start. Anyone have other suggestions?

Hahvahd

K is now officially on the Harvard wait list.

They advise you to act as though you weren't getting in, so that's what we've been doing.

If anyone happens to have any dirt on any members of the admissions board at Harvard Law, now would be the time to give it up.

So, we'll see. Either way, we are going to live in a great city, and K gets a great education.

Turns out that Teckidad always wanted to go to Northwestern. And, her grandmother always wanted her to go to Harvard. So either way, she's living out some family member's dream.

Back by popular demand! (Thanks Marc)

Having recently learned that my reader has been sitting on the edge of his seat axiously waiting for my return to the Web, I've decided to restart this here blog thing.

Our return from Mexico was not the end of our travels, as some of you may know. Almost as soon as we retrieved our laundry from her parent's dryer, K and I were off again to visit law schools in DC, Virginia and our beloved Carolina del Norte. I won't bore you with the details, but fast-forward to an award letter from Northwestern University in Chicago offering practically a full scholarship and we were on a plane to the Windy City. within days.

Chicago was great, if a bit cold (it's just three winters, it's just three winters) and the university was impressive. So much so that we are all but ready to load up a truck and move to the north side of Chicago by the end of July. Some nice neighborhoods up there, and plenty of hardwood floors and exposed brick walls.

In the meantime I've been slowly remodeling the basement apartment in la casa de mis suegros, under the tutelage of my father-in-law. The old red carpet installed by the previous owners is slowly disappearing, being replaced by sturdy tile. We were inspired by our time in Mexico, where even the driveways are tiled. When we swept the floor in our apartment in Valenciana and realized how much dirt you can really track onto a floor, we vowed never again to have a carpeted floor.

Ademas, I quickly realized that all Mexican men seem to know how to do many, many things. Fix cars, tile floors, blacksmithing, you name it. Even Orlando, who would not strike you as the sterotypical macho mexicano, was a teacher who repaired and programmed computers on the side. Faced with this image and my own lack of usefull skills (Copyeditors will be the first left outside the walls to die when the revolution comes) I realized I needed to upgrade my skillset.

While I've been in the basement, K has been volunteering at the local WIC program as a translator. We've also gone down the the Community Free Clinic in Corncob. For the first few nights, there were only a handful of spanish-speaking patients. The other translators kept telling us they were usually so busy that sometimes doctors were chasing them down for help. We didn't really believe it until one night when we ran all over the building from room to room to pharmacy. Each time we approach a latino patient (actually, mostly latinas) they alsways look at us funny, like "What's this white boy going to do, use flashcards?" But so far we've done fine.

I've had some temp work at the Hospice in K-Town. Should have more soon. Also applied at the Buckstar down the road where the suegros like to go. Mas dinero, por favor. As much as I like getting in touch with my masculine self working on the basement, I'd also like to have an income again.

Children of Men

While it was all fine and good for so many Mexican directors and filmakers to be nominated for so many Oscars this year, as we read the news back here in Guanajuato we felt as though the veil was finally being lifted from our eyes.

I had previously thought that the best picture of the year would actually receive a nomination for Best Picture. Sure some politics usually get in the way and a lesser movie actually wins, but the deserving film would at least be nominated.

Not in 2007. How could a relatively mediocre movie like Babel receive so many nominations, and a devastatingly well-made movie like Children of Men receive so few? The tale of a future gone bad, where humanity has lost al hope in the face of worldwide sterility and a neverending war on terror is quite probably the greatest movie I have, or could hope to have, seen in my life.

The entire cast, lead by Clive Owen, puts out a powerful performance, and the possible future the movie creates for us is terrifingly real, with threads of terror and government abuse, as well as the slow collapse of global civilization. Can a movie whose best scene is when Brad Pitt cries on the phone really beat a movie where British tanks open fire on an apartment building full of innocent families in the name of fear and loathing?

Apparently it has.

Selma Hayek is right to be proud I guess, but she needs to calm down.