I'm declaring 2011 - The Year of the Hug

It's been a long time since I've posted anything. I guess that is what happens when you get a job and have to live up to the things you promised you could do in your interview. Besides me going back to work, lots of changes in the 'hood. New neighbors moving in, old neighbors moving out. It's been bittersweet.

When you live in a condo building (like ours) it is only natural that you form relationships with your neighbors. We have been and still are - so very lucky to have very kind neighbors. Not just the kind you say hello to on the stairs, but the kind that you actually would go out with or share a bottle of wine because it's a Tuesday night. The kind of neighbors where you become friends and know what is going on in each others lives - no, not the nosy stuff - the good stuff.

Don't get me wrong - there are some whack jobs that live in our building too. I mean really, is it that hard to actually say hello when I see you walking down the street or at the liquor store? The guy behind the counter at Binny's knows my name (and birth date) and he even asks me how I'm doing and tells me I'm almost due for my Binny points to earn me yet another discount. He cares.

I guess I just don't understand miserable people. You know the kind - they are the first to interject negative comments in a conversation, the first to tell you all about their "woe is me" life, the first to pick out even the tiniest problem out of a bucket full of wonderful. I think I would be miserable if I were homeless. But then again, the guy selling Streetwise on the corner by my office always has a smile on his face. The paraplegic who rolls his wheelchair onto my bus in the morning - he smiles and says good  morning. What does it take to make the Debby Downers of this world positive?

I am a naturally positive person. It really bothers me when people are mean or subject me to their negativity. I don't play well with others who are like this. My usual response is to kill them with kindness. It usually just confuses them - but I feel better. I want to share a video that always makes me smile. I especially like the transition between black and white to color when the first little old lady gives the guy a hug.

Free Hugs Campaign

I think I am going to make 2011 the year of the hug. Bear hug, pat on the back hug, one arm hug, whatever it takes -  I'm on a mission to turn that frown upside down.

Thirty year countdown.

My husband and I were married five years ago today. When we were married, my husband joked that he was in it for the long haul - which he said was for 30 years. Ha, ha funny.


Every year for our anniversary, we drink wine (I hate Champagne) from our special wedding glasses and have a nice dinner. At the end of our toast, my husband always says the same thing..."I love you honey, only 28 years to go, or only 26 years to go." He's so damn romantic I can't stand it.

My husband is an avid golfer and has never taken a vacation that didn't include golfing. I on the other hand - hate golf. I love the beach. Give me a piña colada (or wine,) a cabana boy and the crystal blue Caribbean – preferably Mexico - and I am a happy lady. Did I mention that I hate golf?

When it came time to choose our honeymoon destination we were at odds with each other. I of course, wanted a beach and he of course, wanted a course. Golf that is. He argued that we were married on the beach (he get’s half a point because we were married overlooking the beach, not technically on the beach) and we should travel somewhere that had golf courses. I just couldn’t imagine a vacation without a beach.

The first compromise of our marriage was our honeymoon in Hawaii – well that and the fact that I wanted to wear my wedding dress until 4:30 in the morning. (Come on – you only get to wear it once!) We decided to go somewhere that neither of us had visited. Lots of beaches in Hawaii – and, bonus for him – golf courses. Oh my God do they have a lot of golf courses.

We spent time on two islands and they were lovely. However, I didn’t really care for Hawaii. I know, people think I’m nuts. My reason? No cabana boys. Seriously. We stayed at a really nice resort in Kaanapali and you could not drink on the beach. Isn’t there a drink named after that? Wait- that’s Sex on the Beach. Pretty sure you couldn’t do that either.

Anyway, we actually spent most of our sun days by the pool, which was by the bar. I was ok with that. My lily white husband – not so much. Now, don’t think the honeymoon was all about me and my tan and cocktails. I spent many hours in our Jeep traveling around to golf courses and pro shops. Wailea, Kapalua, Kaanapali.

They have golf courses in Mexico, right? And, Mexico is only a 3 hour plane ride. What else do they have in Mexico? Cabana boys who bring you cocktails on the beach – where you can actually drink them.

So here we are five years later. We’ve traveled since then to places without beaches or golf courses and we’re still married. As a couple, we have figured out that we can take separate vacations too. He with his guy friends (golf) and me with my girlfriends (beach, shopping).

Compromise is how we plan to tackle the next 25 years. So to that I say, Happy -5 honey, I’m looking forward to the remaining countdown.

Chicken, Parking and a 3 Story Drop Off

 We live on the third floor of a walk-up in the city. If I leave my condo, I can walk exactly 3/10ths of a mile to get to the closest bar. We are within walking distance to approximately 40 bars and restaurants, numerous dry cleaners, drugstores, music venues, coffeehouses and grocery stores. This is why we chose to live in our neighborhood, we can walk everywhere – if we want to. That, and the Cubs.

My point? Today I find myself one ingredient short for the recipe I am making for dinner. No big deal, right? Normally, I would hop in my car, go to the market and come home with said ingredient. Not today. It’s cold – and snowy and I don’t want to walk.


You see, my life in the city has been altered for about, oh...the last 2 months. We (not exactly "we," but workers we hired) are rebuilding our back decks.


Unit by unit, our decks have been torn apart, ripped off and thrown to the ground. The unraveling of the decks has completely disrupted our neighbor cohesiveness. I can no longer walk a mere 16 ft. to my neighbors and ask for a cup of sugar - or wine.


Now, when I open my back door - instead of a grill and wrought iron table set greeting me, I get a 3 story drop to my death, but, I digress. The workers have ever so nicely placed a 2x4 over my storm door to prevent me from exiting. Kudos to them for thinking ahead and sparing my husband the decision of a wood or metal casket! Metal.


Typical for Chicago, our parking spot (if you are lucky enough to have one) is located off the alley, behind our condo. All of the deck building supplies are now located in our parking spots. That being said - I have to park on the street, in the snow. Easier said than done, I tell ya. Chicago has this unspoken rule that if you dig out a parking spot, you can put a plastic chair or lawn chair or whatever is lying around in the space to “hold the space” while you are gone. People actually honor this practice. True story - see photo. I won’t do this because, well, it’s stupid.


So - back to my point. If I drive to the store, I lose my rock star parking spot I scored 4 days ago. If I walk to the store, I freeze and might get unintentional exercise. I'm really starting to contemplate if chicken is really necessary for Chicken Parmesan.

Yes, I still love Van Halen.

Last night my husband and I spent the night at his sister's house. We were kid sitting my nephew while my SIL, her husband and their daughter spent the night out of town.

My husband fell asleep on the couch and I slept in my niece Hannah's room. Apparently, I haven’t been in her room for a very long time.

I was so tired when I went upstairs last night. I was ready to crash and call it a night when I turned on the light to her room… and boom – it hit me. I was no longer in a little girl’s room, I was in a full-fledged teenager’s room. Posters everywhere, mirrors covered with messages from her friends, inspirational quotes, and the telltale sign of a little brother who got a hold of her mirror markers. (Ok, so did I).

I instantly became more alert and turned on even more lights. I looked at everything on her walls. Fallout Boy, Justin Bieber, photos with girlfriends, etc. Then as I looked closer, I realized that she had way more idols on her walls of female sports figures…the US National Soccer Team, including autographed items from Mia Hamm and Julie Foudy. I was so impressed to see that she had such a eclectic group of people that she admired.

When I was her age, I mostly had Van Halen, Poison and AC/DC on my walls. I had an empty Jim Beam bottle (that I may, or may not have drank) on my armoire filled with pennies, and a souvenir potato that I used to catch the needle when I double pierced my ears - by myself, I might add - before an 8th grade football game.  No quotes from authors or famous female role models. However, I did have a Notre Dame sticker on my mirror - hey, that does count for something ... academic - at least!

My favorite quote Hannah had written on her mirror was “Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass…it’s learning to dance in the rain.” I probably had “I Hate Curfews,” or “I Hate School,” written on my mirror. But, not with special mirror markers, it was probably scribbled in lipstick. Kids have it so lucky today – with the special markers and all.

It really got me to thinking…what if adults put posters on their walls like we did when we were teenagers? What would I have? What would 40 going on 14 look like? I still love the music from the 80’s but can’t imagine having Axel Rose above my head. Prince? I still love his music too, but not so much into purple anymore.

I guess if I really had to decorate my bedroom with things I currently I like, I would have to pick an artist who has a tone that is more easy listening. Whoaaa. Did I just say that? Let me rephrase. I would definitely not have male artists who wear red leather pants, high heels, have big hair and more makeup than me – well, I kind of do like Adam Lambert - and KISS, you will always be in my heart - but you know what I mean. However, I would still have a poster of Van Halen in my closet! (If my husband had it his way, we would have floor to ceiling Dave Matthews wallpaper.)

Actually, I would pick a collage of the chefs on the Food Network. Love them! And, I would have a full size poster of Guy Fieri on the back of my door. (Love him more)! I would have a clock radio that spoke to me in Dan Patrick’s voice each morning and I would have a quote above my dresser mirror that says “Yes you ARE a princess.” A framed photo of my canine nephew Banff would sit on my nightstand. He is an Entlebucher, the most beautiful dog ever, in MHO. The ceiling light in my bathroom would be light pink because it casts just the right light for hiding wrinkles. Oh- and the pièce de résistance would be a queen sized Indy Colt’s comforter on our bed (with Notre Dame pillows of course). Ahh.

I’m scared to ask my husband how he would decorate our room. Somehow I know Dave Matthews would be involved. How would you decorate yours?

22 Things I’ve Learned Since I was Laid off from my Job.

1. I don't like to get up early.
2. The name of my dry cleaner (Mrs. Kim), my deli guy (Cobby) the guy at the Mobile station (Nguyen), and the homeless/mentally challenged fellow who pushes a cart in my sister's neighborhood (Van). They all have names...and stories.
3. I don't set the heat at 72 degrees anymore. 67 degrees with a light fleece on is just fine, thank you.
4. Chicago city streets are just as busy in the middle of a weekday as they are any other time.
5. Friends and family really do "get it" that things are tight.
6. I have learned to cook. Quite well, in fact.
7. I had to let my cleaning lady go. Now I clean our own place. I even make the little triangles on the toilet paper.
8. Jewel restocks the wine aisle on Tuesdays.
9. The assisted living bus brings the seniors to my grocery store on Sundays - early afternoon. One lady, Silvia - is 4'9. I've helped her reach the top shelf on several occasions.
10. People like homemade stuff. Food, cards, whatever...they like it.
11. If you leave a good impression with your former coworkers - they will remember you.
12. I grow my own herbs - and bring them in over the winter.
13.I can make four meals out of one chicken.
14. A fire in the fireplace is really a nice thing to watch. Especially when you get really good at it. I am now the Fire Whisperer!
15. I spend a hell of a lot of money at the grocery store. (Quicken showed me that!)
16. My house isn't any cleaner now, then when I was working full-time.
17. I've learned to give myself manicures. I don't even have to tip!
18. If you flirt with the deli guy (Cobby) -and visit each day, he will give you Costco type samples of anything you want!
19. I painted our condo with my husband instead of hiring someone. We had fun and learned teamwork skills.
20. Grocery store brands are just as good as name brands and "Buy 1 Get 1 Free," has a whole new meaning.
21.Public transportation isn't so bad - I've seen a lot of things walking to the El that I would have missed taking a cab.
22. I don't like getting up early.

I like cheap wine. There, I said it.

I never used to drink red wine. In fact, I didn’t like any kind of wine unless it was mixed with Sprite. To think the Bartles & Jaymes people and the California Cooler people picked up on such a simple mix. Ugh.

I got over my aversion to red wine in college. Specifically my sophomore year, at a party at my apartment. One of the guys brought over a gallon – or jug – of red wine. It was around 11:30 pm, we were out of the brothers, (Jim Beam and Jack Daniels I suspect) and we lived in a dry county. (Can you believe that we still have “dry counties” in the US?) BTW, I did finally move far, far away from there.

We were playing Quarters, or was it Thumper…whatever, we were having fun. I was losing. Maybe on purpose, okay - probably on purpose. My friend broke out the red wine jug and I held out my arm with my red plastic cup. “Filler up, please,” I said. One loss led to another loss and eventually, I was liking the red wine.

The next morning, I woke up with a massive headache. Being the stubborn woman (in the making) that I was – determined to go out again that night, I went through the drive-thru like any college-aged person at the time, and soaked up my hangover with grease. I totally miss Jack-in-the-Box.

From that point on, I slowly learned to like cheap wine. I’ll admit it. The night of Quarters led to Livingston and the Livingston led to anything made with grapes. I visited France when I was 18. Touring the Loire Valley, I decided that if I were going to act like a grown up, grown-ups needed to drink good wine. I tried it – and kind of liked it, okay, really liked it - but OMG, too much money to spend on a buzz. I still didn’t buy it – literally and figuratively. Looking back, I guess I couldn’t have “legally purchased it,” but I digress. After college, I moved on to the less cheap, more inexpensive wines. Frontera, Woodbridge, a slight relapse back to Carlo Rossi when I was broke. I was on a Wine Roll. An inexpensive, but -hey at least it has a cork in it- kind of roll.

In my adulthood, I have tried many wines. I have figured out that I do really like the dark reds. Especially the Merlots and Cabernet Sauvignons. I like them all very well.
I traveled back to France – which by the way – does not sell cabs. I learned that the hard way. The closest thing is Burgundy’s. I actually emailed my husband from there, asking him to find a damn wine that I could ask for that resembled a cab. Seriously, Cabernet Sauvignon, is French, non? He emailed me back “No. Can. Do.” Apparently, the cabernet grapes are indigenous to California. “Plew, plew, plew...Whatever, I emailed!” I had to take what I could get. I learned to like the Burgundy’s while I was there. Glass, by glass, carafe, by carafe...

So, here we are in 2009. What do I drink now? I love Trader Joe’s and I love their $3 Buck Chuck, which when I started drinking it, was Less Than A Buck Chuck. Also, I’ve found a certain fondness for some California boxed wines – specifically Cabernet Sauvignon. I freaking love the boxed wines and their genius little spouts. 4 bottles in a box, no wine opener required, it’s not heavy like the bottled wine – schlepping it up my 3 flights of stairs in the city. Also the boxed wines are so easy to bring to a party and, here’s the best part...the box can then be taken back if no one has finished it! I only recommend the “take back” move if your with close friends or relatives…or the party has a really, really drunk host/hostess.

Also, now that I think about it, boxed wines are more “green” than bottled wines. Since a box is the equivalent of 4 bottles, it weighs less, making the transportation costs cheaper. More liters on a truck, less gas, less emissions, the box is recyclable (I know glass is too), and once opened, the wine will last 3 weeks. Wait, sorry, that goes in the awesomeness of the boxed wine category, not the eco-friendly category. Oh, and also, I have never had the problem of having to wait 3 weeks to finish opened wine.

I’m convinced. I love cheap wine – actually, I’m trying to train myself. Inexpensive wine, not cheap. There is a difference. I would hope that in my 25 years of taste testing, I would now know the difference. The Europeans drink bottled wines that are twist off. And I see more and more nice priced wines here in the US that are twist off now. I’m not sure if they drink the boxed wine in Europe, but I’m fine drinking it. I’m not European.

There, I’ve said it. I really do enjoy expensive wines, but deep down I’m a cheap - I mean inexpensive wine kind of gal. So, if I’m at your house and you run out of the Chimney Rock, we can break into the box of wine that I probably brought – but if it isn’t finished by the end of the night, don’t count on waking up with it still there. It's somewhere in Chicago on the third floor.

Where has the art of bagging groceries gone?

I remember when I was in high school that a lot of my male classmates had jobs at local grocery stores bagging groceries. Thinking back - I don't know why girls didn't hold this position. Hmm - maybe they did, but I don't remember. Anyway, back then, the grocery bagger (aka cute boy) would bag your groceries and then helped you - OK, my mom - out to your car and even put them in your trunk. Then, after the trunk was closed shut, my mom would give them a tip. We arrived home with our brown paper grocery bags filled with groceries and everything was perfect. No crushed bread, broken eggs or smashed tomatoes.

So, fast forward 25 years. Grocery stores do not use brown paper bags anymore, they use plastic, or in my case, I bring my own reusable grocery tote bags. Also, the people who are bagging the groceries do not know how to bag groceries - and they are not cute boys.

So today I was at my Chicago grocery store of habit, lets call it the Pearl. I don't go there because of the wide aisles, or the smell of freshly baking bread in the bakery, (it's a city grocery with a parking garage) I go there because it is exactly 6 blocks from my house.

So in I go with my 4 reusable totes, with the Pearl screeed on the side of the bag indicating I am a loyal customer. As I choose my groceries, I put them in my totes accordingly. I have a special tote that is supposed to keep cold food items cold and the rest are just regular totes. By the time I get to the checkout line my arms are killing me, but hey - I know how many bags I'm going to have to carry up the escalator to the grocery store parking garage and then haul up 3 flights of stairs when I get home. I'm pretty smart that way.

I started unloading my items on the conveyor belt (I swear that thing speeds up when I go near it) and being the anal person I am, I place my groceries in the order I would like them rung up. You know, all frozen foods together, all cold foods, all meats, canned items. You get the idea. You would think that this would help out the grocery bagger. Oh - and also the fact that I told him (again, not cute) that I would like all of my cold items in the blue tote and the rest in the green totes.

Once again, me being anal and all, I watch as the checker scans each item - to make sure I get my buy one, get one free items, well...free. Also I've had items scanned twice before making the whole buy one get one free just a slap in the face - because not only did I not get one free, I paid for one that I didn't even get. Grr.

The checker finally totals up my purchases and then realizes that I have wine. "21 on aisle 7," she yells on the loud speaker. Fine. Now I have to wait for someone who is 23 years old to come over, check my ID, look at me, make me take it out of my wallet, turn it over (because it says it's expired on the front and there is a sticker on the back) look at me again, look at my license, look at me yet again and say "wow, you've changed." "Yes, yes I have, I say. It's been a few years since I got my original license and thank you very much for pointing out that I have gained weight...Or, were you referring that I look much older?" You're on thin ice here checker-girl I think to myself - and... I so do not dye my hair - it's natural. Really - it is. I'll be 40 and I've yet to see a grey hair. The Gods are with me on this one.
$68.92 - that's your total - cash, debit or credit?

Finally, done with the interrogation. We've now figured out 3 things. I am in fact over 21, I have gained weight and I will pay with my debit card. That only took 10 minutes. So I mosey on down expecting to find my neatly packed groceries in their respective totes. But, did I honestly think my grouped efforts of food items and clearly marked totes were enough. Nope. Apparently I need to invest in a P-Touch to help the bagger bring it home.

He says to me "you didn't have enough bags so I put the remainder in plastic, is this OK?" At this point I am irritated, Ellen is going to start soon and I have to pee. I thought to myself. I can take two roads here. The high one or the learning one. I chose the learning one and promptly informed him that all of the groceries in the 5 bags were once in 4 bags at the beginning of the line. Then, I unpacked my groceries (finding the bread under a few canned goods) and repacked them so he could "learn"' how to properly pack grocery totes.

Being the National Day of Service, I do feel I did my part.