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.