Intercepted on the North Pole network

Do You Hear What I Hear?

The holidays are upon us and fellow humankind is stressed out!  Perhaps coupled by the unemployment situation in the country, good cheer seems to be hard to come by.  My roommate Emily S and I devised a plan yesterday morning for me to jump her car.  In order to do that, however, I was first going to have to shovel my car out.  Judging by the constant murmur of spinning tires that has serenaded our apartment for the last 4 days, we imagined this could take a while.  We trudged out each with our respective shovels to get to work on our respective cars.  The street was blocked anyway for the time being by our neighbors who were also jumping each other.  All was well until traffic started to back up down the street, horns started blaring, and tensions mounted.  Thank goodness the backed up traffic got back in their cars before any kind of fight went down, but our southern neighbors (the crackhouse, if you remember) can intimidate fo sho. 

I shoveled and scraped away--a good 30 minutes at least--when suddenly Emily drove up beside me saying the neighbors had gotten her out and to hop in.  I threw the shovel and scraper into my car and hopped in hers to begin our errands while her car battery charged up.  At the end of our block I had the dawning realization that I'd left my car running!  I jumped back out of Emily's car and ran back and sure enough, the car was running, and all the doors were locked. 

I had a spare key in the apartment, but no key to the apartment--it was in the car.  Emily couldn't stop driving or her battery would die.  Thankfully, as usually happens in cases such as these, my landlords were home to bail me out.  Got the key, ran back, was stopped by my scary southside neighbor offering to help push my car out.  Maybe he's not so scary after all.  Got the door open, turned off the car, and headed off with Emily to Michaels craft store for last minute supplies.

As Emily pulled up to Michaels to drop me off, the car opposite us tapped a pedestrian crossing the street.  When the pedestrian stood there looking incredulously at the driver, the driver got out and got all up in this guy's face for standing in front of his f-ing car.  When the guy replied, "you hit me!" The driver pushed the pedestrian's chest.  I scurried inside the CRAFT STORE and asked the first person I saw if they had any kind of security.  Why Michaels would have security, I'm not sure, but it didn't really occur to me in the moment.  The store clerk said he would call Bill.  "Bill to the front.  Bill to the front."  By the time Bill got up to the front, the pedestrian and driver were gone, and it was probably a good thing because Bill was about 75 years old.

I'm really feeling the Christmas cheer.  Peace on earth.  Goodwill towards men. 

Visit

Elinore is so excited to come to Chicago for a visit that she packed all her clothes during her alone time today. She packed all of her underwear and shirts into her backpack along with a few other essentials (pink tights, ballet shoes, baby doll), but no pants because they wouldn't fit.

I hate having to tell her that we'll have to put all that away because we still have 5 days until we come.

Haunted Kitchen

Sunday I had 1 loaf of bread left to make to complete this week's orders. I put it in the oven and went to take a shower (I had an hour after all). When I came out of the bathroom, my roommates told me they had smelled burning and gone to check on my bread. The temperature was set at 500 degrees!! Nobody knows how it happened... Needless to say the loaf was BLACK.

Monday I made another loaf and checked the oven every 15 minutes to make sure the kitchen ghost didn't try to pull another fast one on me. My loaf made it unscathed, but probably only because of the vigilance of my eagle eye...

Holiday Program 2008

Last night was the much-anticipated annual Holiday Program for the private Catholic elementary school I've been working with. Given the prominent location for this particular school and it's relationship with one of the oldest and most historic churches in Chicago, it is quite the event.

My job was to run many of the logistics while the music teacher conducted. Thankfully all of the classroom teachers were in charge of corralling their own individual classes, so I was mainly in charge of the boys' and girls' choirs and one accomplished second grader who played the violin on several pieces with the instrumentalists.

Piece of cake. But if that were the case, it wouldn't merit a blog post...

In the morning rehearsal where the children actually performed for the kindergartners, one First Grader (FG) threw up on the way back up the side aisle. Thankfully, I was not in charge of said FG. When the time came, I collected all of the boys' choir boys and attempted to get them into a line and keep them quiet while the second graders sang their numbers at the front of the church. Much to my dismay, my direction, reasoning, shushing, and evil-eyed stare hardly warranted a side-long look from the 10 boys under my charge. When one of the third grade teachers walked pointedly over--finger raised, eyes narrowed--the boys withered under her glare and strict order to "get it together!" and her accusation, "totally inappropriate!" She winked at me as she walked back, but I felt shamed nonetheless. What happened to my assistant principal days when a mere raised-eyebrow look through a classroom window was enough to silence even the most rambunctious class?

On my cue I walked the boys down the aisle and ushered them onto the steps, then went back to line up the 40 girls in girls' choir. Once they were also successfully on stage for the mixed choir numbers, I headed back to listen to the sound. As I listened, I noticed one of the Boys' Choir Boys (BCB) slowly disappear into the sea of children. Heart racing, I put on my superhero cape and walked quickly (but calmly) to the front of the church to rescue the slumped-over BCB. All of the boys around BCB were looking at me wide-eyed as I knelt to look at him. He had not fainted, but his face was white as a ghost and his eyes were glazed. I got him out of the group and instructed him to sit on a pew with his head between his knees. At that moment the song finished and I had to run back to the choirs to lead the boys off and back to their classes. I came back to BCB and walked him back to the back of the church, had him lay on a pew, and got the principal to call the nurse. While I sat with BCB, the music teacher ran over, saying breathlessly that she needed me with the girls' choir--none of the girls knew where to go!

I got the girls safe and sound to their classes, and the rehearsal ended. Oh God, I thought, if this is a preview for tonight, I'm in trouble. I spent the whole day strategizing for just-in-case emergencies.

When the doors opened 30 minutes before the program, I literally had to leap out of the way of the crazed parents in all of their finery who bolted in to get the best seats in the house and throw coats over adjacent pews for their grandparents, second cousins, neighbors, etc etc. Just before the concert started, the mother of the 7 yr-old violinist came to tell me that contrary to the rehearsals (which she attended. All of them.), she would not be leading her daughter around from place to place. She was relying on me to take care of her. Ok, I said, smiling politely.

The show began without a hitch. BCB and FG stayed home. The first time I guided the violinist down the dark aisle, she was so nervous and fidgety that she had to sit down halfway there. I coaxed her up to the stage, and then later almost lost her as I led the boys' choir down one aisle and the second graders filed off the stage down the opposite. I went racing down the church aisle after her, knocking over the second graders in my way as I went, and I almost crashed into her and her mother coming back down the aisle. Her mother had her lips pursed as the put the girl's hand in mine and said firmly, "She almost got all the way back down the stairs. Guide her, please."

Retort, I did not. Last night I was a yes man.

One little Girls' Choir Girl (GCG) in the front row cried through the entire 2 girls' choir pieces. I sat on the floor in front of the first pew right in front of the choir, and called her to me. She sat down with me, and I made her take deep breaths. I thought she was nervous. I sent her back up to sing, but she kept crying. I called her back down, and this time her mom appeared next to me. It turned out that GCG's sister is also in the choir and when GCG found her family in the audience, they were all looking at her sister and not at her. (Poor thing. She's probably a middle child.) She got up to sing the last verse of "Bleak Midwinter" -- "What I can I give him, give him my heart," but the daggers in her eyes were something fierce!

To close the concert all the children sang together, "Let There Be Peace On Earth," and it rang out sweet and clear. Nobody fainted. Nobody threw up. Nobody missed their songs. All was well, and for a moment there was peace on earth. At least in that little slice of Chicago.

What does your umbrella say about you?

We decorated our REAL Christmas tree last night!

And this morning I participated in the morning rush hour for the first time since June. Tomorrow is the holiday program for the elementary school where I am assisting/accompanying, and so this morning I had to arrive at 8:15 am for rehearsal. Even though last week we had -4 degree wind chills, this morning it was pouring down rain. I was pleasantly surprised to spot so many colored umbrellas among my fellow Chicagoans! Black were still the majority by far, but I wasn't the only one carrying color.

As I walked, the rain slowly soaking into my weather-proof boots, I tried to theorize about the people who carried the pinks, blues, greens, reds, and yellows. Where they also the people who wore colored coats? Sometimes, but not always. Where they young? Sometimes. Where they trying to stand out in another way? Sometimes, but again not always. So it seems that it's random.

I did, however, notice a correlation between the SIZE of the umbrella and whether the person carrying it was walking toward Union Station or coming from it. The commuters carrying the enormous umbrellas--the ones that can probably fit 2-3 regular umbrellas underneath and really only fit one per sidewalk--were all coming from the station, meaning they were suburbanites. Does it rain harder there? So hard that they need their own personal awning?? I arrived to work wet, but proud of my little Swiss umbrella that Etel and Adrian gifted me over the summer.

At the end of the day, the rain had turned to sleet and I set out clutching my red umbrella. Even though I had turned my umbrella against the wind, lest I be swept up in a gust a la Mary Poppins, the wind was so strong that my umbrella rattled on it's handle. The metal hinges creaked and groaned as the wind tried to force it closed. One little Chicago storm and my little red umbrella didn't stand a chance. Maybe the Swiss should stick to watches, knives, and chocolate. Maybe I should invest in an awning.

Tulips

I wanted to post a photo of our new stained glass. In our study we have a picture window that doesn't open or close. It is up high enough that it doesn't need a curtain, but we wanted to do something with it. My grandpa makes stained glass things, so we asked him if he would make us something to put in the window. We gave him the dimensions and over the summer he made this for us. It looks beautiful in the window, and tulips are so fitting for Holland! I've been meaning to post a photo of it for awhile. Thank you so much, Grandpa!!!!

DIY gone wrong. As usual.

I saw in a magazine some beautiful, inexpensive Christmas ornaments made from dried citrus slices. I have a gift exchange tomorrow at a holiday party with a budget of $3 and a rule of no junk gifts. I thought dried citrus ornaments would be a great little eco-friendly gift.

I think they burned. Crispy like potato chips.

I guess I'll get a bar of chocolate for the exchange.

Thanksgiving Delights

Here's a glimpse of our Thanksgiving feast.
And the leftovers.

Black Friday

Just how far do we have to come as a society that people are trampled to death by mobs in pursuit of STUFF on sale for Christmas? Just more stuff to fill the voids in our lives and any extra space in our storage units. That's right, spaces we actually pay for to hold all the stuff we've bought, but don't need. Our unique relationship to the stuff that fills our lives is ironic enough that it can be comical, but when our obsession for material goods actually results in the horrific death of a store employee, we've gone WAY beyond crossing a line. Is that really what the holidays are all about?

An exerpt from the NY Times article:
"Some shoppers who had seen the stampede said they were shocked. One of them, Kimberly Cribbs of Queens, said the crowd had acted like “savages.” Shoppers behaved badly even as the store was being cleared, she recalled.

“When they were saying they had to leave, that an employee got killed, people were yelling, ‘I’ve been on line since yesterday morning,’ ” Ms. Cribbs told The Associated Press. “They kept shopping.” "

The beauty of the whole situation is that nobody has to take responsibility for that man from Long Island's death. Everyone can point to the person behind him or the person behind HIM or the frenzy created by a mob of emotionally charged individuals. The Midwesterners can point their fingers and decry those crazed New Yorkers, the New Yorkers can say "it wasn't MY fault." But it was their fault. It is all of our fault. Our fault for letting consumerism replace rational thinking and a sound perspective on what we TRULY need to be happy and fulfilled.

America, you should be ashamed of yourself.

Sadness, remorse, sympathies and prayers for the spirit and family of Jdimytai Damour who was trampled to death yesterday in honor of Black Friday. Black, indeed.

The numbers are in..

And after my first 25 loaves, countless trips to the grocery store, hours and hours of baking, and a few minutes spent scraping dog crap off my show, I have made.....

..................................

$4.00.

Bakers, take your mark.. Get set...

A turn of events has set me back to square one as far as my job search goes. Since I decided to start teaching piano lessons, I've planned on piecing together several different part-time jobs. I added accompanying an elementary school choir downtown and teaching a parent & tot music class at a local church to the mix, but still I wasn't making enough to cover my living expenses.

By luck, circumstance, entrepreneurial creativity or sheer insanity, I decided to get myself through the holiday season by selling holiday breads to my family, friends, and former coworkers. I took samples of my different breads to my former workplace along with flyers and sent out an email to everyone else. Friends passed around the flyers and forwarded the email, and orders trickled in one by one. Before I knew what was happening, I suddenly had orders for 40+ loaves of bread!

I am a person blessed with lots of ideas, but usually I think about them until they go away. I jumped into this endeavor, however, with both feet and figured I would figure things out as I went. I took the weekend to collect myself and make a plan. 25 of the 40 loaves were for Thanksgiving, so I had agreed to have them ready for delivery on Tuesday or Wednesday. Since we were out of town all weekend, that left Monday for grocery shopping and baking.

Monday came, 3 grocery stores, and our heads spinning from converting weight measurements to volume (just how many cups are in a 5 lb bag of flour?), I was on my way to home to let the baking begin. I had planned to start as soon as I got home and bake all night if I had to. Halfway to Chicago I got a text message from one of my roommates inviting me to eat dinner with her and her boyfriend in our apartment. It was at that moment that I realized my plan didn't take into account the fact that I share my kitchen with two other people. Thankfully we found resolution, though I sense (both intrinsically and because they told me) that they are less than thrilled with my complete take-over of the kitchen.

At the apartment I had so many heavy groceries (15 lbs of flour, 10 lbs sugar, a can of pumpkin the size of a bowling ball, etc.) that I had to make 4 trips up the 3 flights of stairs to my apartment. On the third trip I stepped in dog poo.

Finally at the top, the woman who had agreed to cover my music class so I could bake, called saying she was sick. So I put the groceries away and headed off to sing with the babies. When I got back, there were two loaf pans in my mailbox left by a caring friend! Unfortunately they were 9 x 5, and the only boxes I was able to find after days of searching measured 9 x 4.5. I plowed ahead anyway.

The 7 loaves of pumpkin bread went off without any major hitches. On to the 7 loaves of apple... For some reason I decided to fiddle with the baking rack to get the loaves good and in the center. Bad idea. An hour later I had to pry them out of the baking pans, and the bottoms were scorched. Not good when you're on a schedule and bought for just the right amount of ingredients. I set them aside and moved on.

By the time I was done grating carrots and cooking and mashing sweet potatoes it was closing in on 2 in the morning. I decided to bake just 1 loaf of each carrot and sweet potato to get me through Tuesday. At 3:30 AM I turned off the oven and went to bed.

This morning I woke up, got more loaves in the oven and then started wrapping and packaging the cooked loaves. The 9 x 5 loaves are tight in the boxes, but I shoved them in anyway. No more Miss Nice Girl. Then I ran out of ribbon. Who knew a 9 ft spool would only wrap 2 boxes?! Anarchy.

At 12:30 my first customer dropped by to pick up her breads. I met her at the curb with her boxed and adorned breads, we exchanged pleasantries, she payed me, and it was done! And then I realized that I'd forgotten to bring down my keys, and I was locked out of the apartment.

!!!

The Alchemist says that when one goes in search of their personal legend, all the universe consipires to help them. I'm wondering if all the universe also conspires to let one know they've gone astray.

Ok, Universe! I get it already!

I've got another 11 to deliver tomorrow, and then I think I'll take Thanksgiving to reevaluate and see if I'll break even. Perhaps baking isn't my destiny. Good luck to me.

ELINORE!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ELINORE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Christmas Readings

I thought I'd post a Christmas list - some good books to read:
1. Radical Evolution - Joel Garreau - $10.85 Amazon
2. The Singularity is Near - Ray Kurzweil - $13.60 Amazon
3. Leadership and the New Science - Margaret Wheatley - $14.25 Amazon
4. Intelligence - Jeff Hawkins - $5.06 Amazon
5. Earth: The Sequel - Fred Krup - $16.47 Amazon

The general theme is one of future change due to convergence of environmental issues and influence of information technology on human evolution. This ought to really scramble my brain.

First Snow

I just wanted to announce it!

List

It's that time of year, here's my list:

Long underwear shirt
a new wallet
Pure beech sateen sheets--gold
field coat
cardigan sweater
waffle maker
hypoallergenic earrings--I've recently developed a copper allergy and all my earrings are making my ears swell and bleed
-mainly studs for the earrings
My amazon wishlist
you have to type my name to search for it, mine is the one with the mention of horses
a good book


that's all for now but tune in for possible additions...

Bean Soup Dilemma

The air is crisp.  The sky is clear.  The few leaves that still cling to the trees have turned.  The ground is frosty in the morning.  We are waist-deep in fall and last night visions of bean soup danced in my head. 

I soaked the beans overnight and made a trip to the grocery this morning to pick up the requisite carrot, celery, and bell pepper.  I got back and got busy chopping, dicing, and mincing and one by one added ingredients to the crock pot.  The pot got fuller and fuller, and with each ingredient the concern that it wouldn't all fit became a little more realistic.  But I held onto hope. 

After I added the tomatoes, however, I couldn't pretend any longer.  I still had to add 5 more cups of broth, and my soup was already at the tippy-top.  I don't know if I'm just forgetful or in denial, but this happens to me every time I use my miniature crock pot.  So, I resigned myself to cooking in my stock pot.  I transferred the soup ladle-full by ladle-full, made a mess, and then added my last 5 cups of broth.

While washing the crock pot and restoring it to the pantry, I tried to devise my stock pot plan.  It was only 11 AM.  I couldn't leave the soup simmering all day because I'll be out from 3-5.  I couldn't put the whole thing in the fridge until later because it was too heavy.  I had lunch while I thought some more.

Then I realized that since I threw everything in raw rather than sauteeing the celery, onions, garlic, etc first, I would HAVE to cook it in the crock pot.  Ladle-full by ladle-full I transferred the soup back into the clean crock pot and put the rest in a tupper in the fridge.  And made a mess.

The outcome?  Half a pot of delicious bean soup that will be ready at dinner time, another quarter pot of raw soup in the fridge, a quarter pot splashed all over the kitchen, and more dirty pots and pans than I know what to do with.

Global Crisis

On Monday this past week, I made my special muffins---Morning Glory Muffins--I made these on my last day in August and everyone has been on my case to make them again since I've been back. So I finally made them and I sent an email to let everyone in Business Operations know that they were on the back table. About 10 mins later I got an email from someone named Jerry Lapour--he's an MDM or manager for a particular region of the country--saying thanks for including me in the email. Not too long after that someone from Marketing upstairs came down and took 4 muffins. I was pretty confused until my boss emailed me and said "I think you meant OB_CS2_ALL" or something along those lines "OB_ALL is the entire company." I then received an email from an IT guy who works from home saying thanks for the muffins. So I sent the email, not just to the entire Oak Brook branch of Elkay, but to the ENTIRE COUNTRY. Jerry Lapour is not from IL. Embarrassing to say the least.


Here's the recipe for the muffins:

Morning Glory Muffins

2 C flour
2 tsp ground cinnamon
2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 1/4 C sugar
1 tsp vanilla
2 C shredded carrots
2 large apples cored and shredded
3/4 C coconut
1/2 C raisins
3/4 C oil
3 eggs

Preheat oven 375
Combine the flour, sugar, cinnamon, salt, and baking soda in a bowl and set aside. Shred carrots and apples and combine with coconut, raisins and dry ingredients. Mix well. Add vanilla, eggs and oil and stir just till combined. Line a muffin tin with papers and fill with batter 3/4 of the way full. Bake for 18-20 mins. Makes ~2 dozen

Dia de los Muertos

I made a Day of the Dead shrine this year in honor of my favorite Spanish professor, Dr. Sonia Riquelme, who passed away a few weeks ago from pancreatic cancer. You are supposed to put food and drink that the person liked in the shrine, but all I had were almonds and limes. I'm sure she liked almonds and limes. Who doesn't like almonds and limes, right? I know she would be tickled to think that someone made a dia de los muertos shrine for her. She would laugh.

You can also see my poor shriveled pumpkin on the lower left. Pretty spooky, eh?

Our pumpkin

Elinore wanted a witch after she say Grandpa's. Thanks, Dad. Here it is, and I must say that Kevin is very proud of it.