Queen Mediocretia of Suburbia

Tuesday Bullets

• Pope

I can see this Pope getting on the helicopter, flashing the peace sign, and then is granted a suspicious pardon from the guy he picks to replace him. Also, when it comes to Pope coverage, Colbert is killing it tonight. Go to http://www.colbertnation.com/ and look for the video from 2/26/2013.

• Itching

Tonight, Gary complained he was itching all over.

"Oh. Why do you think you're itchy?" I asked.

"Because I haven't had enough sugar."

Does anyone else suffer from this? Is it common? Can it be fatal? Is it like HFCS DTs?

• Seriously, Missouri?

Earlier this month, someone in the Missouri House proposed a bill to make it illegal to propose anti-gun laws. No one really took that seriously. Now a House committee has decided that if there are any Federal anti-gun laws, Missouri will just punish anyone who enforces them. Because that stands a chance.

 

I Am Too YOUNG For This

I have to learn about Medicare. Seriously. I'm 50. Too young! And it's too complicated for me already, I can't imagine if I were 80.

It's on behalf of my brother Dave, who, while only 52, is on Medicare because he's disabled. We had him all set up for life after Mom died, then he started getting hit with donut holes and prescription bills over a grand a month.

And while I'm grumping, donuts? What a stupid analogy. If you want an analogy for something you progress across that has a negative thing in the middle, you pick donuts? Not volcanoes? Whirlpools? I keep hearing Dave say "I've fallen into the donut hole" and it makes me picture him snapping his jaws in the air with a half-eaten donut wrapped around his face.

I did find this site, though, and it made things a little clearer.

http://www.medicaremadeclear.com/about/medicare-facts/

I'm sure there's some reason why Dave doesn't have supplemental insurance. I feel I'm going through this exercise to find out his state doesn't allow it or something.

First Class

It wasn't even fifty bucks to upgrade to first class on the one hour trip back from Chicago, so I did. I never fly first class. I now realize if I never take Gary along on vacation I can spend that money on first class for me.

Pros:

Big comfy seats.

First class has its own lavatory.

First class has its own closet.

Free drinks before you take off.

"First class has the best seat because you you don't have to scoot in to see the window the window is right here." - the little girl sitting in front of me. She continued to spend the rest of the trip asking her father what everything cost.

First class gets to leave first.

I like the Left Turn once you get in the plane, but it still doesn't compete with the Long Walk to the good theater seats.

Cons:

The security for first class takes you two hundred yards out of your way. On a related note, I am never having Gary tote around those heavy overnight bags again. Roller bags all the way.

First class serves drinks, but there's no tray table.

In first class the engines sound really whiny and scary.

Unrelated to first class:

At 12:45, the departure sign gave me a gate number of, say, K18, and a departure time of 2:00.

At 1:40, I noticed we weren't boarding, and went to the desk to see what was up. Nobody there, no sign.

I found a departure screen again and found out that the flight was delayed to 2:15 and the gate changed to one five minutes away.

"Hey, you know there are six people waiting for the flight at the original gate," I said to the attendant at the new gate.

"I'll call the desk there," she said.

"No one's at the desk."

"Then they should go look like you did," she muttered to someone when I turned away because we were boarding.

That plane was boarded and on the move at 2:04.

I KNOW. Evil mean dirty trick. I didn't know I was being set up by the airline to miss my flight. I'll be camped in front of the departures sign from now on.

Also unrelated to first class:

I walked though concourse C and thought, wow, did they give this a new paint job? It looks so shiny and new. I wish they'd do this to all the concourses. And then I remembered concourse C is the one that got wiped out in the tornado a few years ago.

Millennium Park

As I say, this is my first visit to Chicago that ventured outside the museum walls. Well, to be fair, one year we crossed Grant Park all the way to Navy Pier, which held no appeal for me. On the other side of the Art Institute (Here There be Dragons) lies the Millennium Park, circa 2004.

It is a "park" chock full of metal, that's what it is. I suppose they wanted to have all the metal sculptures and installations be a counterpoint to the lush nature.

I'm sure that's a fine idea when nature is lush, but in February it's like a metal and glass park in a metal and glass city, with faces of Chicago citizens trapped in carbonite like the child above.

Another cold rectangle.

Of course, no one could complain about Cloud Gate ("The Bean").

Great place to see if the Eggplant Fox makes your butt look big.

Cloud Gate must look incredible on a summer's day when no one's around, or at night.

There's another sculpture I felt a connection with, the one on top of the pavilion. What does this look like to you?

St. Louisans will recognize it as a tangled version of the Gateway Arch. A vision of the Gateway Arch blown up by resentful Chicagoans who are sad Ernest Trova didn't choose to live there? Yes.

Chicago: Reviews

Rev up the Judgemobile! Reviews of how I amused myself in Chicago.

With others (the Hot Mom crowd)

Cowboy Mouth Concert (three thumbs up): Good God, the floor at the House of Blues is a bouncy wood trampoline when thousands of people jump up and down in unison. The band was good, as always, with some added spite in their banter for some standing Chicago gig that turned them down this year.

Howl At The Moon (deformed thumb partially down): This is a dueling piano bar in River North. Hot Mom's out-of-state friends started holding seats at 5:30, then at 7 the singers began. After one song I arched my eyebrow at the woman who had recommended it.

My eyebrow said, "This is awful. Did they not warm up first?"

"This is the B team," she explained. "The A team comes on later."

The B team sang songs from Disney movies that only Moms know, and sang them poorly. I drank all I could, but I just never got into it  I held out till 9 when the A team came on, and they were certainly better, but I left after an hour.

On My Own

Museum of Broadcast Communications (one thumb up): I was determined to have a museum-free Chicago visit, but this was in the same building as my hotel and I have journalist blood.

Hints if you go: open this unmarked door to the cleaning supplies by the Fibber McGee and Molly exhibit.

I got pretty excited to see this old AP ticker with the 11/1963 Dallas dateline:

And then I saw this exhibit and lost the next half hour of my life.

It's a loop of every breaking news report for the LAST FIFTY YEARS. If I didn't have tickets to the matinee of Book of Mormon I would still be there.

Book of Mormon (Three thumbs and a big toe up): Loved it. Made me laugh every minute, made me cry at the end. I make no apologies. The music swells, the conflict is resolved, humanity is uplifted. And my seats were right in the the sweet spot that collects all the stage energy: row F center.

 

Such a good show. Go see it, even if you're Mormon. Don't see it if you're Ugandan, you'll be insulted.

I went to Millennium Park the next day, but that's a post of its own.

It Could Happen To You

I stayed at the Hotel Sax (formerly the House of Blues Hotel)

Here's my view:

I know! Bad view! And the room was wee. Why did I ask to stay in the "European-sized" Queen room? Because of the brown stuff on the walls below.

They described the room as "wood paneled." Well, it was wood-veneer paneled, and the edges were not finished well. There was some molding and a nice embossed wallpaper, though.

The hotel had some other interesting features. Each elevator was decorated with a painting of pregnant woman holding a skull. Then, right off the elevator of death you'd find find a video gaming room. If video was not your game of choice there was a vanilla-scented bowling alley attached to the hotel.

I was not there for the bowling, or the video games, or the skulls, or the view, or the sirens every half an hour. I was there for the pseudo wood paneling.

They do have real wood paneling in the lobby:

I was at the lobby desk Sunday night, because every night I had to recharge my key card. They said it was because my iPhone was demagnetizing my card, but I thought it was their take on the European tradition of turning in your key at night.

Since I was there anyway I asked, "Oh, what's the PBS station in Chicago? I suppose Downton Abbey is on at 8:00 here too?"

Ladies in line laughed. They stayed for the answer though, didn't they? I'm sure I wasn't the only one watching the season finale.

Of course, I had to have cookies and tea beforehand. I finished about twenty minutes before the show was to start, called room service to pick up my tray, put the tray outside the door ...

...which swung shut behind me. Of course. I was trapped outside in my thinnest striped pajamas.

"Oh no."

I tried the door. No. Locked.

"Fine," I thought, "I'm fifty. I'm not easily embarrassed." And I marched with my head held high, back to the lobby, which, may I remind you, looks like this:

Happily, I only got as far as the red couch before I saw the doorman and waved.

"Hello," he said.

"Guess why I'm here!" I said cheerily.

"Why?"

I gestured at my pajamas.

He looked blank. Perhaps people in pseudo-European hotels routinely slob about in their pajamas.

"I'm locked out," I was forced to explain.

He let me in (without asking for my ID, as a friend pointed out) and took the tray. Then, I watched the season finale of Downton Abbey and THAT was the low point of my night.

New Chicago

The four times Gary and I have visited Chicago, we visited the museums. Seriously, all I've ever seen of Chicago is the airport and Michigan Street.

This time, since Gary was not along, I ventured ... on to State Street!

Two streets under my belt. I am a world traveler.

Here's something you'll see on State that you won't see on Michigan: Hookers. I assume they were hookers. They were in their late thirties, flat shoes, short pea coats, no makeup. Doesn't sound sexy? Totally bare-legged, both of them, in 18 degree weather. And they weren't going anywhere, they had a pronounced come-hither stance. They may still be there outside Macy's (Nee Marshall Fields).

Not only has Marshall Fields changed names just to confuse me, I discovered (and this shames me a bit) the Sears tower is not the same tower as the Hancock tower. "Oh, the Sears tower," I shrug, "I was there as a child." Evidently not.

(Yeah, I don't know about this Chicago Dildo Spire there on the left. It hasn't been erected yet.)

Another thing that makes Chicago exotic: next to Macy's on State there is a Target store. It is so odd to see a Target that is not on a highway exit.  (Aside from the citified Target, I don't get why I should go shopping in Chicago. I've never shopped there. Tiffany's and Ikea are the only stores I know of that we don't have in St. Louis.)

I walked many blocks on State. I think we need an international standard for a city block, because I can tell you a Paris city block is four times longer than a Chicago city block. I can say that I have a very inflated idea of how many calories I burn walking a city block. ("I walked ten city blocks, so that must have worked off that 15 ounce steak I had for lunch.")

I got kind of excited by the prospect of taking an architecture tour, but the desk clerk convinced me to wait till spring so I can take the Chicago Architecture Foundation River Cruise. It got kudos from the desk clerk, and then a stranger standing in line vehemently agreed with him.

Perhaps I can convince Gary to try it next time. The location given is the Southeast corner of Michigan & Wacker, so I've got that going for me.

After

Before

Eggs Benedict at hotel sax

Please, there should be a rule. Before you top off my coffee LOOK to see if there is cream in it. If there is and you give me more you have just screwed up my careful coffee cream and honestly sugar ratio.

The eggs are divine though. Perfect.

Dearborn by Marcia

http://www.mocklog.com/.a/6a00d834515e5769e2017c36e71400970b-pi

http://www.mocklog.com/.a/6a00d834515e5769e2017c36e71400970b-pi

Dearborn street

<\p>

Marcia calls it the Mini Cooper of rooms

http://www.mocklog.com/.a/6a00d834515e5769e2017c36e60a12970b-pi

http://www.mocklog.com/.a/6a00d834515e5769e2017c36e60a12970b-pi

This is how I pack for three nights in chicago

http://www.mocklog.com/.a/6a00d834515e5769e2017d4114fc65970c-pi

Marcia has more and she isn't even staying overnight.

http://www.mocklog.com/.a/6a00d834515e5769e2017d4114fc65970c-pi

Finally WINDFARM

Evidently the trick is to add it the wrong way and also copy / paste<\p>

http://www.mocklog.com/.a/6a00d834515e5769e2017ee888bcfd970d-pi

http://www.mocklog.com/.a/6a00d834515e5769e2017ee888bcfd970d-pi

Apologies to the feed readers

I'm trying to get the hang of the new publishing rules .... Patience

Cheetoes carrots throw down

Leaving the House!

Tomorrow morning I'm leaving the house! Piling into a car, driving to Chicago with Friends 2, 3, and Mr. 2, and then tearing up River North.

I will see new things!

Drive new streets!

See Book of Mormon!

Eat Eggs Benedict!

Watch the season finale of Downton Abbey while eating room service!

Stay an extra day because my family is just fine without me! Nyah Friends 2 and 3!

Live off a smaller version of my stuff. ("Whips chains whistles dildoes and a book.")

(Granted, I was humbled today by a Carnival Triumph "Survivor" who smugly said, "Well, I was fine, but some people who didn't have the foresight to bring a flashlight had a hard time." I've seen those packing lists that include flashlights, and I have always sneered. However, am I bringing a flashlight to Chicago? No I am not.)

So, you'll be seeing weird travel posts of photos of people you don't know and skylines you've seen hundreds of times. As a consolation, here is video of all the goats who scream like humans.

State of My Evening

Driving home late from work, I dreaded walking in again to an empty house. I started thinking about low-maintenance pets. Lizards? Would a lizard greet me when I came in? What about a bird? A parrot!

Then I began to wonder what phrases a parrot would pick up. Obviously, "Hon, can you get me an ice cream bar?" followed by "If you're going into the kitchen can you get me a soda?" Squawk!

Surprisingly, Gary was there to greet me. He was watching the breaking news on CNN about the manhunt for Dorner. At one point he yelled "TUNNEL!"

"What's that, hon?"

"They say he's holed up in a cabin and he's trapped. What about TUNNELS! CHECK FOR TUNNELS!" he yelled at the police through our magic shortwave TV screen that can communicate with sports broadcasters and the California police.

Then, the cabin owner's son called to talk to Anderson Cooper and revealed there was a basement in the cabin. A dirt basement?

"TUNNELS!" we yelled in unison.

There are five cabins in the area? "TUUUUUNNNNNELS!"

Cabin's on fire? TUNNELS!

Eventually Gary tired of yelling at the TV, and went for a nap instead of watching the State of the Union. I was a little glad, because he always pauses the TiVo to yell and Twitter gets ahead of me. Since I was synced with Twitter I saw the CNN's Breaking News announcement that Dorner's body was found inside the burned-out cabin.

Of course, later, when the LAPD sheriff's department announced, "No, we didn't find a body inside, w don't know where you got that idea," I yelled "TUNNELS!" and woke Gary up.

So, I've talked myself out of the parrot idea. Squawk! Hon, get me a soda! TUNNELS!

That Stopping Point

I have a dreadful habit of allllmmmost finishing a project, and then abandoning it.

The basement is alllllllllmmmmost finished.

I got this far: I made a pile in the center of the basement. A pile of everything that will go on the shelves once they are assembled.

Then, Gary helped me put together the frame for one set of shelves. I added the crossbar and wire for one shelf and put bins on it!

And now I'm done! Ta da!

All my interest in the basement? Shelved. Really, the basement's the last place I want to be lately.

The scary thing is, I need to get the basement project done in the next few weeks, because March is Gary's Birthday Month. He says he wants to help, but I don't see the basement taking precedence over the Netflix Battlestar Galactica Marathon that is Gary's life of late.

A Rose For Mac, by William Faulkner

Tonight, Gary was unloading some groceries.
"Vegetarian lasagna?" I asked.
"It's Mac's favorite," he said.

=====================================

Gary wants to leave the house as it was when Mac was here. He wants to believe Mac's just around the corner, napping. I haven't been allowed to pick up Mac's dessicated food. His water is pretty close to evaporated.

There's a sad little can of dog food in the fridge. It isn't going anywhere. I'm not going to be the one to throw it out.

Gary's not the only crazy one. I haven't wanted to Scooba the floor. I like seeing the little scabby spots by the chair legs.

It's been lonely here all week without a dog to converse with.

I suppose we'll get some closure when they call to say the ashes are ready.

The Big Snow of My Youth

Nemo has been making me remember the big blizzard of my youth. I look about ten, so it would be - wait. I can look it up!  It was 1973. We got a foot overnight. So nice when the internet confirms my reality.

Of course in my mind I am six and that yardstick is totally covered.

I also recall the St.Louis Blizzard in '82, when they closed UMSL for a week. Fabulous. I hated going back.

CNN Tickles Me

So there is a manhunt on for a nut job who killed three people. First, though, he sent CNN a package containing this:

It tickles me so much that CNN keeps showing the photo of the DVD and NEVER even suggests they might play what is on the DVD. Must be driving the nut job even more crazy.

Helllllllooooooo

Hellllloooo. Patron. The best cough supppressant EVER.

 

hellllooo.

I checked my temperature. 99.5. Still a cold. A cold with pee-puking. I have found if I drink Patron and lie flat with my neck at a particular angle I do not cough. As long as I barely breathe.

On the other hand, the tee-vee has been advertising this shit.

It's drugs for kids with NO alcohol. No dyes or flavors, but also, strangely, no alcohol.

Now, the whiskey with honey and lemon I had for the croup when I was five was an excellent remedy. The Nyquil when I was pre-pubescent, back when it still had alcohol in it, that was effective.

I say dose those kids with bourbon.

How Sick Am I?

Fluid in my ears, in the back of my throat, in my nose, in my eyes. I went home in an attempt to sleep the it to death. How sick am I? I briefly awoke when I heard the CNN Breaking News noise, heard the abducted boy had been released from the bunker, and didn't even roll over to watch.

Sick.

What We Did During the Super Bowl Blackout

What I did:

I tried to do the Beyonce Grapevine Strut. Very difficult. It could be a new neurological exam. I only succeed when I hung on to the entertainment center.

What Gary did:

Stretched in order to stay limber.

What we both did:

We heated and ate wings in peace. The house was silent. I still miss my puppy boy. And, In-Bev (nee A-B), the sappy Clydesdale commercials should come with a trigger warning for those who have recently lost a pet. Trigger warnings for everyone!

Finishing touches

Haircut

Pre haircut

Work Shuffle

My department is doing a mighty desk shuffle, and I'm one of the few people not moving. All that's happening to me is I'm losing a bookcase and a cabinet, and someone else is moving in to share my cube.

Logic says: I do not need to pack. I just have to stay put.
Movers say: I have to pack up all my personal items since movers will be in my cube, and they don't want to break anything.

Logic says: If I pack up my personal items, the movers will move them someplace safe.
Movers say: The movers only move items from cube A to cube B. If an item is moving from cube A to cube A, they will not "move" it.

Logic says: I do not need to label my furniture, because I'm keeping all but two pieces.
Movers say: I need to label my furniture.

Logic says: I need to label the two pieces of furniture that are moving out.
Movers say: No, I need to label everything BUT the two pieces that are moving out.

Login says: Libby's cube is 876333. Joy's cube is 876332. Scott's cube is 876331. Logic says my cube is 876330.
Movers say: Your cube is 231773. It has something to do with where your cube lands on an imaginary grid.

They admitted that one made no sense.