I’d been invited to a swanky affair downtown. I’d decided on tuxedo pants, but needed a blouse. Nothing was surfacing anywhere. I wanted something smashing!
Mr. Lincoln’s Ummm….
So FB is going to give me a $5-a bill with Mr. Lincoln’s face on it-to feature an ad with Mr. Lincoln’s umm junk?
Fewer Words Please…
I collect vintage dish towels. I like the linen ones, oceanside places are a particular favorite. I use them as hand towels in my bathroom.
One of my favorites is not from any specific place. It features seashells of the world. “Seashells from the Seacoasts of the World” is emblazoned across half of it.
Today, I dropped it, picked it up and hung it. Backwards. Accidentally. Continue reading “Fewer Words Please…”
Chicago Women’s Club
I started this back in April. The course of research is often a serious rabbit hole. It’s worse when working without a deadline for you have the leisure to make strands into ropes. Today, though I found the knot at the end of it. Or so I thought…
A few months ago, I pulled out a small Hollinger box of vintage paper I’d been saving. I hoped each would find a home on Ebay or Etsy. I listed some. They went nowhere. The slick, grey box looks chic and minimalist. It lives under my coffee table.
Today I took another look….
Happy New Year!
Ahh the “New Year.” That arbitrary cosmic reset button that gives us all a cosmic do over. Today is the lunar one. Happy Year of the Rat and more!
Many Soles
My neighborhood has many soles.
Quiet Morning at Home
Quiet, snowy morning at home.
On the Border at Calvary Cemetery
I went to Calvary Cemetery today. It sits on the Evanston/Chicago border; it is officially in Evanston. It’s a little slice of nature in the city, I often see deer and have twice been “escorted” by a coyote. Take a look at my favorite photos.
Attitude Adjustment
A child I knew began getting into trouble at school. It took a few visits to the principal’s office before his parents noticed something. Every time he wore his camouflage pants to school there was an issue. It seemed the pants brought out something in the young man that helped cause him to act out. I called it the G I Joe effect.
Today, I am having a similar experience with my boots. A little heel, and a little zipper and I am a fire crone. I am stomping around the shop with purpose. I have things to do. There are butts to kick and copiers to be wrangled into submission. I am in a “take no prisoners and give no quarter” mood today.
Attitude, when it comes to five-year-old boys, is something that is squelched and squashed. Attitude, when it comes to 57 year-old women is something that is celebrated.
Breaking Up for the First Time
I’ve never had to break up with a friend. Usually things just fade, one or both are perpetually “busy.” Part of the pact that is “Midwest nice” is that people get the message and it’s finished.
But I finally did have to break up with a long-time friend. Many things had been simmered for many months. I no longer found our friendship rewarding and felt annoyed after meeting with him. It finally blew up mid-December. I told him “let’s talk after the holidays.”
The Thompson Center
It’s “the building everyone loves to hate.” I have to admit I’ve had my close calls on the granite floors during the rainy season. It was an architectural experiment that never got the “form follows function” memo. Continue reading “The Thompson Center”
Miro
Most adore the Picasso across the street, but this Miro is one of my favorite public sculptures in Chicago. I find The Sun, The Moon and One Star rather menacing; especially since it is so feminine!
Little Snow Gang
Don’t even try mailing anything at this mailbox!
The Truth About Leggings
It’s the No Pants Subway Ride today. It’s mostly a younger person’s thing-I’m happy about that for many reasons; most of them years.
I could inadvertently participate though.
“Leggings are NOT Pants!” is a common fashion axiom!
A Different Cleaning Strategy
It was important to my mother that everything in the house be clean–all at once–in order for her to say it was clean. When I was a kid my family would spend what I remember as the entire Saturday cleaning the whole house.
This was not some romantic suburban ideal. I wasn’t having a Coke and writing names in the dust with dad. This was yell and scream and bust-you-ass work. At least that’s what it felt like to five year-old me! By the time we got through Sunday dinner and homework the weekend was over.