Famous for Fires.

Most everyone knows about the Great Chicago Fire, started (in theory) by Mrs. O'Leary's cow, who my mom says "kicked the bucket".  Supposedly the cow turned over a lantern and the straw inside the barn caught on fire.  With most of the city being made of wood, sidewalks included, it didn't take long for the entire city to ignite. Add to that the fact that there was a drought, and it was windy (this is the "Windy City")and you had the makings of an incredibly destructive fire.  And while the fire did seem to start in that barn, I think it's unfair to blame the cow.  After all, there had been other fires that day.  The reporter who originally wrote the story admitted to making up the cow story.  It is a good one. 

Finally!  My name is cleared!

Chicago has embraced, if not capitalized on it's notoriety.  From a professional soccer team called the Fire, to a television show which is filmed here, called "Chicago Fire", there has been a lot of triumph named for, it not borne of, this tragedy. Yesterday, while driving in the city, I saw a huge placard which announced that an episode of the show was being filmed on that particular street, so I guess that's the disclaimer in case anyone tries to get paid for getting caught in a shot.  Hoping to get a cameo, I rolled down my windows and started to wave and scream.  Later, I was reminded that since the street scenes are supposed to look natural, it was unlikely that if I was caught on camera, I'd be allowed to stay there.  Already on the cutting room floor before my career even started!  

An obviously controlled, but very out of control looking fire started.  Then it went out.  Then it started again.  I was at a housewarming in a nearby high-rise, and the balcony was a perfect place to see all the action.  So close...yet so far.  I can't believe I messed up my big break.  

So if you ever find yourself in the middle of a movie or t.v. set, remember...act naturally and don't make any sudden moves, like screaming and waving at the camera.  

Ticking Down...

Summer will officially be over in less than a month!  I feel like I've accomplished very little and that makes me a little sad.  My son goes back to school in less than two weeks!

I feel bad that we didn't get to take a vacation this year.  Last year either, but we were pretty busy with family stuff.  This summer, finances and the inability to coordinate my daughter's work schedule, trying to get my business going and my son's time with his Dad made it nearly impossible.  So rather than labor over it, I decided to just postpone until the fall.  If all goes well, we'll be taking a trip to Texas for Thanksgiving.

Since my daughter took a two week vacation to Guatemala before she started this job, she's good to go.  My teenage son however, has had a mix of visiting relatives in the city, meeting up with his friends to play basketball, going to movies, parties and learning to drive.  I think the driving thing has pretty much kept him happy.  They're both pretty easygoing and I'm far harder on myself than they would ever be.  We haven't had a real vacation since three years ago when we took two.  It's been tapering off since then to a couple of weekends away each summer, to a short stay in the city, to a "staycation".  The latter doesn't work out so well when you have a 16-year old who doesn't get up until the afternoon.  He informed me today that he's going to start going to bed earlier (than 2 a.m.) to start getting back into his school routine.  Smart kid.

So I'm making this chicken and pasta salad for a housewarming tomorrow.  I'm putting together all the components tonight, including the chicken breasts which are cooking right now, at midnight.  A couple of summers ago, I got in the habit of cooking up big meals at midnight or later.  It was fun "together" time for us, with everyone chipping in to make the meal. It was a bad thing to do, I know, but it was so much fun and after all, bedtime was still hours away. It was during that summer that we discovered the deliciousness of shrimp and grits.  We ended up making this dish about twice a week.  If I only had some shrimp in the fridge...

We are definitely night owls.  Since I work from home, I can afford to be a little drowsy during the day, and I don't have to worry about the inability to look "fresh" with little to no sleep.  It's easy to do when you're younger, but looking fresh at my age requires a lot of tools, time and a decent amount of sleep.  I think that freshness is overrated.

And with that, I hear the food sizzling and my son saying "Mmmmm"...which means he's raiding the kitchen.  I gotta go rescue my chicken.
     


                                                   

the Snake Killer

I haven't told a real "14th Street Story" in awhile, so since that is the premise of this blog, I probably need to play a little catch up.

There was a song back in the 60's called "The Snake".  I found a clip on YouTube in case you're interested.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T_ZBqpEUbik  When I was a kid, we had a piano in the living room, and tons of sheet music.  I used to read the lyrics and sometimes try to pick out the tune on the keys.  Being the baby, my parents never made me and my youngest brother take lessons like the oldest four children.  I guess they were tired of making kids practice.  But, I developed a working knowledge of the piano and could pick out a tune if I really wanted to.  This song was like reading a story and I was so interested in what became of that poor woman who had been so nice to the snake.  I never considered any deeper meaning to the lyrics--I was about 10.  It was taken very literally.  Anyway, I finally got the tune and used to sing this to myself at the piano.  I think today is the first time I actually heard this recording of it.  It's much faster than I played it, but then again, I really couldn't play.  But the upbeat recording of it conveys a much different feeling than the sad vibe I always got from it.

But that's not really the story, it just reminded me of something else.  One Sunday, I was home with my mom, my brother and his friend Keith. It wasn't uncommon for us to either go home with a friend after church, or for the friend to come home with us.  Since we also had Sunday evening service, we just went back and made the exchange.  Sitting in the kitchen (I can't remember who noticed it first) we saw a snake!  It was a little garden snake, but still!  We were all terrified.  I was about six, and my brother and his friend were nine or ten.  A snake in the house!  A snake anywhere was terrifying, but in the house?  I don't know if we ever figured out how he got there, but I clearly remember how we got rid of it.  Keith decided that he would catch it, but my mom said no.  You know how that mom thing kicks in and suddenly you can handle situations that you've never found yourself in?  Remember that this was the 60's and we had books in the house...no computers, but actual books.  There were novels, Bibles, encyclopedias and dictionaries.  Really big dictionaries.  We had a big blue one--I'll never forget it.  It had the little index tabs that took you immediately to "abc" or "xyz".  That was the 1960's equivalent of a Google search.

Anyway, my point is that because we had books, we had weapons.  Weapons that could kill snakes, which we found out when my mom left the room briefly and returned with that blue dictionary.  The snake had slithered under the stove, but when it emerged, Mom was waiting.  BAM!  That dictionary hit it's target and that was the end of that snake.  Keith swept it into the dustpan and I honestly don't know if he put it in the garbage, the alley, or what.  I just know that the snake had left the building, and I had a story to share at school for the entire week. What became of the dictionary?  It was returned to the bookshelf.  I never shook the idea that it had snake residue on it.  Never. This is first time I've thought of that in a very long time.

To this day I fear snakes of any kind. Come to think of it, on my next trip to the thrift store, I might seek out a couple of old dictionaries.  Just to give myself a slight sense of security.  I don't think that pepper spray would work on a snake, but a dictionary wielded by a resourceful mom is a proven snake killer.

Hot Ashes

                                           It's this guy's fault...he started the whole thing.


I was just sitting here in my bed, planning to write something meaningful or funny.  Probably the latter.  At any rate, I started getting sleepy...again.  Just as I was falling asleep I realized I was sweating.  Nothing like a good power surge to get you back up and at 'em!  In fact, it not only woke me up, but also reminded me of what I wanted to say.

I couldn't write last night.  The combination of extreme drowsiness and extreme pain were just too much to bear.  See, what happened was...

...I went to a party on Saturday night.  I typically go to exactly 0 parties each year, so this was a big deal.  I'd almost talked myself out of going (too late, nothing to wear, too fat, nothing to wear, too hot, too fat, nothing to wear...) but my kids were dressed and ready so I tried each of three outfits:  Plan A, Plan B and Plan C.  I didn't think I liked Plan A (long black dress with 3/4 sleeves) but when I put it on with my stilettos, a.k.a. 1.5" rope wedges, I actually liked the way it looked.  Everything was covered, including my arms and with gold accessories, it seemed appropriate for the occasion.  We were all invited to a graduation/going to college party for my friend's son, who is also my son's friend, so not showing up would have been just wrong.  We arrived about an hour and a half into a party that was planned to last at least six hours.  Basically, we were in plenty of time.

My friend and her family were really happy to see us!  The music and appetizer part of the evening was in full swing and she immediately pulled my daughter out on the dance floor.  Not me.  Just my daughter.  BUT, they were doing the "Gangnam Style" and I wanted to join in.  I didn't last long.  All that galloping wasn't working for me and my bad knees and my one inch stilettos.  Later, I decided to try again.  The family is from India, so there was a lot of fabric and color and sequins. And the women looked great too!  Joking!  But seriously, even the little girls were decked out in the prettiest dresses and mini-saris.  All that color and motion on the floor caused me to get a little ahead of myself.  About 10 (5) minutes into a Bollywood-style medley, I started to sweat profusely.  Maybe the long black dress wasn't such a great idea.  Maybe the spinning wasn't either. Maybe forgetting to take the Black Cohosh didn't help. Maybe the guy with the camera and the spotlight was out of order, as well, but as the only person of color (well my color anyway) I was a bit of an anomaly and there was no way he wasn't going to get it on tape.  My daughter, mortified, looked at me as if to say "please get out of here".  I used my hands to push back my hair, thus the sweat, numerous times, but it just kept coming.  Who opened the floodgates?!  I finally decided I couldn't take it anymore, so I tried to sneak off the dance floor without being noticed.  I don't think it worked.  I continued to melt all the way back to my seat and I got more than a few stares along the way.  I was able to pour my liquid form onto the chair and used the fancy cloth napkins to soak up what I could before my hand melted.  I think at some point, they brought over a bucket and mop, and just wiped me up, wrung me out, and waited for me to solidify again.  When I came back (to solid form and consciousness) I was alone at the table with everyone's empty water glasses in front of me.  Oh Waiter!!

Luckily, dinner was served not long after that and things calmed down.  Oh, but don't think I didn't have the nerve to get back out there!  Just a minute or two of a group dance and the Cupid Shuffle.  Line dancing does look really cool, especially when you don't know the dance.  It seems so complicated!  This has to be the easiest one out there, but with just a few young people, plus my two kids, we were a pretty exclusive group and I was the only older adult out there.  I hammed it up.  And I regretted it.

After about three hours, the kids were ready to go, so we said our goodbyes.  When we were close to home, I decided to stop at the grocery store.  I could barely walk, but I chalked that up to the long ride because anything more than half an hour in the car means I need at least five minutes to "loosen up".  When I returned to the car about 15 minutes later, I was still in pain, but it was bedtime so who cares?  I just partied Bollywood style and I had a blast!  Flash forward to Sunday morning...

My knees, of course, were not happy.  My feet weren't either.  My hips, my head, my big toes...they were rebelling as well.  And at a family birthday party later that day, I received the biggest insult of my life.  My sister told me that I used to be cool.  Now I'm just as slow and creaky as she is.  In fact, she said that my sister-in-law dances better than I do.  If you'd ever seen my sister-in-law dance, you'd understand that this knife twist was especially cruel.

I had a little girl in preschool once who called her grandmother's power surges "hot ashes", as in "my Grandma had hot ashes today."  I feel ya Granny.  Hot ashes, black dresses and dancing just don't mix.  I had to learn that one the hard way.

Too old to blog?

Today we were heading out to a friend's party, being held in honor of her son who is on his way to college.  He happens to also be one of my son's best friends.  As we were leaving, I grabbed my camera.  My teenager, mortified by pretty much everything I do asked why I was taking it.  To take pictures, of course.  Well, why can't I just take the little camera, why do I lug that big SLR camera everywhere?  I might want to add some of the pictures to my blog and it takes better pictures.

Now, the next series of questions, asked in rapid-fire succession, will tell you a lot about my Know-it-All offspring.  Why do you have a blog anyway?  Aren't you a little old for that?  Taking pictures, blogging, painting ...what's next?  I mean, shouldn't you be moving forward, not backward?  Since he doesn't think I should do anything but lay low, I'm going to "out" him right here.  Here's the guilty party.  The one who doesn't think his mother should have a life outside of shuttling him here and there, giving him money and letting him practice his very bad driving in her car:

See that smug look on his face?  That pretty much sums it up.  (BTW, the empty beer bottle belongs to whoever had that table before we confiscated it--snooze ya lose!)  His sister is so great about tolerating his constant barrage of unwanted observations and snarky comebacks. He's almost 16.  He thinks this is his job. 

Another alien invaded my kitchen today.  After sharing half of her free, organic veggie haul with me, I go to my sister's house today and find that she hasn't cooked any of hers.  I left with a fistful of chard, which I cooked as soon as I got home.  Just some olive oil and seasoned sea salt.  Sauteed about 5 minutes, then cooked another 5 with a splash of green tea.  Don't know if I've mentioned it before, but I drink copious amounts of the stuff, and use any excuse I can to add it to what I eat.  Love it!  The chard was so good, and Mr. Smug up there, upon rising at about 1p, ate a bowl of it.  No complaints, so I guess that I'm not too old to cook.  Yet. 

Trust me, it tasted as good as it looks.

As far as the alien mentioned, it was another kohlrabi.  Now we've already been through this, but in case you missed it, here's what happened the last time I encountered this mystery veggie.  http://14thstreetvintage.blogspot.com/2013/07/a-kohlrabi-story.html

 Poor thing...my sister kicked you to the curb.  She's not getting any when I cook you!

All this healthy eating could become a habit.  Just kidding!  

Great health fair today!  Tons of freebies--school supplies, health screenings and special performances by some of Chicago's most talented youth.  

Okay, I'm on about hour 9 of my energy drink...yes, it's worn off and I am sleepy...very sleepy.  I would have had this post done an hour ago if Mr. "Mom's an Embarrassment" hadn't interrupted me by sitting on my bed and showing me the five or six pairs of far-too-expensive gym shoes that he wants.  He figures that with this being his 16th, all the stops will be pulled out and he will be successful in closing the deal on a couple of them.  Haha...I hope he's not too disappointed!  All kidding aside, he's a great young man and honestly, he gets that sarcasm from his mother.  That would be me, guilty as charged.  Still accepting ideas for the big party, so let me know if you have some great ideas for me.  Thanks!

Good Deeds.

I feel like I've done my share of them today.  I took a few of the nieces and nephews out for a movie and lunch.  We saw the new "Smurf" movie and it was so nice to have something age-appropriate, entertaining, funny and unoffensive for them to watch.  I enjoyed it too, but I, like many other people, have my questions about Vanity Smurf.  As I typed in the question "is Vanity Smurf gay?" I discovered that there are pages and pages of discussion about this topic.  Go Figure!  I wasn't interested enough to do much reading, but it was pretty funny to see that not only do other people have this same idea, but that they are interested enough to keep up an online discussion.  For me, Vanity is as cute as all the other smurfs and he has a great personality.  I don't really care about his sexual orientation, I just wondered what the thought process was when creating that character.  But, he's a smurf...a little blue child...so such matters shouldn't be on the radar as of yet.  He's funny though!

I drove downtown Chicago (not my favorite thing to do) to help someone pick up a bed.  A queen size bed.  In the back of my car.  There were three of us, and my daughter was downtown waiting for me to pick her up.  I finally just had to tell her to take the train.  We arrived home at the same time. It is also Lollapalooza weekend here, so the streets were teeming with concertgoers wearing the "uniform" of short shorts, boots and backpacks.  Some of them were covered in mud.  They said that they were caught in the rain, but it looked a lot muddier than that.  The combination of more than usual Chicago traffic, extra traffic personnel standing in the middle of the streets, and young people who had nowhere to go and were in no hurry to get there meant that a five minute trip around the block took about 20 minutes.  Twice.  To get smoothies.  I mean, since I was down there, I might as well.

I volunteered to take pictures at a community event that my daughter is putting together.  VOLUNTEERED...see, I'm just way too nice today!  I need to go eat a sour pickle of something.  In order to do this, I had to cancel on a DIY brunch, complete with a mimosa bar. Mimosa Bar. Yes, you read it right.

Today kept me busy, but I've been neglecting my health, not taking my vitamins, not exercising (falling up the stairs doesn't count, I hear) and not eating right.  After a few days of this, I'm feeling sluggish and lousy.  It only takes a few days for me to go downhill.  Fortunately, I recover quickly, too!  As I sit here on the edge of my bed, I have the shiatsu massager on my feet and a huge cup of three different tea bags, each promising a different health benefit.  The basic promise of all of them is detoxification.  I think there's a lot to that, though some think it's just a lot of talk.  I always feel better after I spend just a day or two eating better and drinking cleansing teas.  I hope that tomorrow is no exception since I really need to feel better soon.  I have a dinner to go to tomorrow night, and I won't enjoy myself at all if I feel sluggish.  So, I'm trying to "unslug".  Hey, a new word!  And a disgusting one at that!

I pulled out a couple of pairs of shoes, trying to decide which one to paint, but I like both of them a lot and really don't want to mess with 'em.  You know what that means...I have to make a trip to the thrift store.  I'm so proud of me--I haven't been since last Friday!  Such restraint deserves a reward.  Oh wait...there was a Craigslist item that I found and drove 45 minutes to pick up.  Never mind, I won't go.  But I can't say that I won't make a few U-turns if I see any garage sales.

Ready for my close-up!

I realized tonight that there are three stages of embarrassment.  Shock, anger and laughing at yourself for being such a dork.  I tripped going up the stairs to my sister's house (there are only two steps, btw) and landed on all fours on her porch.  My son came out to help me, but only after asking "WHAT are you DOING?", which launched me quickly into Stage 2.  I didn't get to stay in Stage 1 very long.  I guess he heard me fall.  I guess he heard me moaning and my knees popping as I tried to get up.  At any rate, I was still trying to figure out what happened when he appeared, incredulous.  Stage 3 didn't happen until after I stopped at Burger King for an ice cream cone.  I'm still laughing two hours later.  Well, not out loud, but I'm laughing inside.  Dork.  

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I have quite a few pieces of furniture and decorative items that are being stored solely because I plan to paint them...someday.

I have an old Victrola cabinet that I have wanted to paint for years.  This year, it's getting done!  In the meantime, I stick with my small projects to give me some sense of accomplishment.  The Victrola is going to need a little more care, especially when choosing just the right type of paint (and color!) that will make it look it's best--close-up ready.  It's a major piece and I love it.  I don't want any regrets...

Today, I painted a few things.  See for yourself:

My "creepy" candleabra finally got a fresh new look!

So proud of this find!  People are always looking for bar carts, and I found two in one week!  I'm going to sell it because it will become a "catch-all" for keys and other junk if it stays with me. 

The vanity seat formerly known as "Rust Bucket".  A little off-white spray paint, and it's camera-ready.  Now for the seat---maybe I'll post pics of the fabric options and let you all vote.  I don't want to decide. 

If I wasn't so sleepy I'd paint some shoes.