Archives: Feb. 2008-Mar. 2008

Org. Post: Monday, February 18, 2008

The Origin of the Specious: Too Many Ions in the Fire

[insert literary masterpiece here]

Org. Post: Thursday, February 21, 2008

A Little Mascara: Crab Apples + Dandelions

And just like that, any supposed (or self-imposed) writer's block, disappears …Though, not how I expected it to.

We were living in the house with the in-ground swimming pool. The basement was fully finished with black and white checkered floors. I had my play kitchen set up in the play room …The same play kitchen where I made plastic peas with a plastic stick of yellow butter. No play kitchen would be complete without a fake refrigerator. The same refrigerator that Katie, the Republican neighbor girl (who wet the bed), wrote "GEORGE BUSH!" on, in permanent marker …And I later crossed out and wrote "DUKAKIS!"

You were our next door neighbor. The bubbly blonde with an Italian husband and a red-tinted golden retriever, who we'd hear you affectionately call out "Breaker!" towards. In your backyard, over our shared fence you had a Japanese garden …I could see it while on top of the swimming pool's slide. I imagined the games of hide and seek I could play if I lived in your house …I then turned towards my swimming pool and down the slide I'd go.

It was really windy and rainy, that summer …The dandelions were shedding their wishes all over the place. Crab apples studded the sidewalks and the rain caused an increase in lawn mowing. You were sweeping your driveway and my Mother was leaning down, pulling weeds. You both started talking …The sun went down, you kept talking. I was on the front deck, skipping the last few minutes of daylight away, with my Skip-It! I casually eavesdropped on your conversation with my Mother …Your voices and laughter were near identical and I lost track of who was saying what. After a couple of beats, I recognized the voice, calling my name, being that of my Mother's …I ran over.

Mom: "Mandy, this is our neighbor Diana."

You: "Hi there …Oo Robin, she could be your twin! You have the same cheekbones!"

You reached for my hand and I thought you were the classiest Barbie I had ever seen.

Soon I was spending my afternoons, after school, at your house …You never had children so everything in your house was perfect (No offense to my Mother's curio cabinet of Precious Moments). You had a separate room just for the television and oversized pillows to sit on. We'd sit there for hours, eating Triscuits with cubed Colby Jack cheese. You would read to me. Sometimes I'd play in your basement …which was filled with worldly handicrafts and stretched canvases …I secretly wanted your Turkish coffee set. Breaker and I would fall asleep on your back lawn. I secretly wanted him too.

In the third grade you permed my hair …And even though the kids made fun of my newly spiraled do', I believed you and my Mother when you told me the kids were "just jealous." For years, any and every hairstyle that found it's way atop my head was from your hands. I'd sit for hours, reeking of various chemicals …My Mother nearby, her hair wrapped up in plastic wrap.

You see, my Mother and her sisters had stopped talking long before you came into our lives. You were the closest I ever had to an aunt. With you everything was full of laughter and understanding looks. Life had taught me early on that family was what you made it …And you quickly made your way into mine.

My family would join yours' for holidays …Easter egg hunting with my best pastels, in your Mother's backyard.

You and my Mother were my biggest fans, cheering me on at all of my orchestra recitals, dance recitals.

When you would come over for brunches, my Mother would make the fancy salads with mandarin oranges.

A few years later, my family moved a few streets over …You were a short bicycle or rollerskate ride away.

Remember [your husband] John's 40th birthday? We had the Luau themed party at my house …Complete with a roasting pig in our drive-way, tiki lanterns throughout the yard and everyone was dressed in Hawaiian attire …You and my Mother were the belles of the ball. I could sit and listen to the two of you laugh for hours. It was infectious.

With you, everything was big, bold and full of color. When you were first diagnosed with cancer, the fear was in your eyes and the tears welled up in my Mother's but you both greeted it with laughter. Your smiled remained throughout the years to follow, after the many hospital visits, the eventual remissions, the stubborn returns …I don't remember you not smiling …And your wig collection! Oo your many wigs. One for every mood, every occasion.

I remember when you wallpapered our kitchen …You were halfway through another bought of kemo, wearing a handkerchief over your few tuffs of sandy hair …Diligent and with your expert eye for design, you placed each and every strip of navy blue …And even when it started peeling and my Mother secretly had it re-done, we never told you and often marveled at what an expert job you had done.

You and John eventually built your dream house and moved, a few hours away. One of the grandest houses I've ever seen …Even to this day, surrounded by the old and new heights of Chicago. My parents were divorcing and I had an open invite to stay long weekends at your palace. To get away from the bickering and the broken hearts. We'd have long talks and you never once treated me as a child. When things got really bad, you'd take me to your side and reassure me that everything was going to be ok …Something that up until then I only trusted coming from my Mother.

You died today, Diana.

And I don't know if I'm doing this right.

Not having a close knit family means never losing someone so near and dear …We lost you today and I don't know how to do this right.

My Mother's voicemail came during my work day …The moment I heard her say "Hello," I knew something wasn't right.

There have been many people in and out of my life …Many of which have fallen into the ebb and flow that is the trick of time.

I wish you could see me now. I wish you could hold me with your understanding and see what my life has become. I always wanted you to be proud. You would have been proud of me today …With my eyes still brimmed with tears, I took to smiling …the same smile you wore to what I can only imagine your last day. I smiled, I laughed and I finished out my work day.

I'm really sorry. I'm sorry to have taken advantage of your battles and triumphs …I had grown accustomed to the cream rising to the top …I never really thought you'd go. Naïve, I know.

Thank you for your time …Thank you for so much more that escapes me as my mind fills with the sound of your laughter.

I hope I did this right, I secretly want that. I admire your strength, I secretly want that too.

Org. Post: Saturday, February 23, 2008

The Monarch Effect: Every Clout Has A Silver Lining

My Self-Imposed To-Do List:

-Coffee [x]

-Dust [x]

-Vacuum/Wax floors [x]

-Dishes [x]

-Take out the trash [x]

-Laundry [x]

-Read book, write about book + meet deadline [ ]

-Pay gas, electric + cell bill [ ]

-Listen to nothing but Thin Lizzy …all day [x]

-Falafel [ ]

-Send out card for Neil (Even though he lives a street over. He's on an electricity strike …Mail is fun) [ ]

-Pat self on back [ ]

__________________________________________________

2/20/08

This morning, my Mother called me. One of her "check-in" calls that usually happen as I rub sleep from my eyes and have yet to say anything out loud …Which usually results in her asking if I have a cold, if I'm sick …"No Mom, I just woke up."

Mom: "Well, let me be a Mother."

This morning, such was the same …

Mom: "A co-worker of mine is getting married, Mandy. The other day, at work I saw a woman who was about to get married wearing these cute sweatpants that said 'bride' on the butt. So yesterday, I went over to Marshall's …You know, Marshall's. It's like Kohl's."

Me: "Mom, I live in Chicago …The former home of Marshall Fields."

Mom: "Well, I didn't know that! …Anyways, honey, I went to Marshall's and found a pair of pajama pants with hearts all over them. So I bought those and picked up a pair of manly men pajama pants made out of satin, like silk …in red."

[She was on a roll …I had one eye open by now]

Mom: "…And then I stopped by Michael's, the craft store, and purchased these iron-on bubble letters."

[Oo my …For a second there I thought she was going to say puff paint]

Mom: "…So what I'm going to do is iron-on the word 'bride' on the pajama pants with hearts and 'groom' on the manly satin pajama pants. Isn't that too cute!?"

Me: "There are no words, Mom"

[Right eye open]

Mom: "They are just going to get the biggest kick out of it! I mean, they're my age …This is her third marriage and his second."

Me: [suddenly it all seemed ok] "That's great! I'm sure they'll get a kick out of them, Mom …That's a cute idea."

[I love her a lot]

Mom: "So how are your bowel movements, Mandy?"

[both eyes: closed]

Mom: "Oo c'mon, I only ask because I ask your brother the same thing …Let me be a Mother!"

I should also mention that my Mom now adds "don't get hit by a car," every time we speak.

Me: "It's not on my to-do, Mom."

_______________________________________________

REVISED: My Self-Imposed To-Do List:

-Coffee [x]

-Dust [x]

-Vacuum/Wax floors [x]

-Dishes [x]

-Take out the trash [x]

-Laundry [x]

-Read book, write about book + meet deadline [ ]

-Pay gas, electric + cell bill [ ]

-Listen to nothing but Thin Lizzy …all day [x]

-Falafel [ ]

-Send out card for Neil (Even though he lives a street over. He's on an electricity strike …Mail is fun) [ ]

-Pat self on back [ ]

-Get hit by car [ ]

_________________________________________________

I recently received a random myspace message commenting on the product placement throughout my photos and asking how much I get paid because "you must get paid lotz!".

Yes, "lotz" (oodles, perhaps) …But I assure you that no amount of money can meed what I've done for the Jewish people, the makers of ironic thrift coffee mugs, quarter-tagged books and the fine fine people at Revlon ColorSilk (black 10).

My product placement is purely selfless and rather a charitable act. My small initial condition within a nonlinear dynamical system towards a recurrent complex system of mammoth (mastadon, perhaps) proportions.

I believe the mathematical equation would look something like: d(ft (x), ft (y)) > d GET MONEY.

(I'm sure the checks are in the mail …)

_________________________________________________

I've been able to clock-in more internet time over the past couple of weeks since (finally) finding an unsecured wifi connection within my apartment. The fact that I came across such with my laptop on my nightstand …Well, that's just the icing on the cake. I have the comforts of my bed and oversized pillows to browse my various internet destinations (that reads near whimsy).

That said …I've encountered a new set of neighbors, in the condo building directly outside of my bedroom window (which I face while at my laptop). I've made mention of these neighbors in previous posts …They're the ones w/ the permanent tuxedo jacket installation on the back of their kitchen door …Yes, those neighbors.

Last night, I turned on my laptop …My neighbors were home, their light was on …I sat there, waiting for my computer to boot …Alton, in his never-ending quest to reunite with the outdoors, was perched on my bedroom windowsill. Primo had swaggered in and proudly conquered a small stack of books, nearby. I was reaching for my coffee mug, when I noticed movement across the way …Knee-jerk reaction, I glanced out of my window.

There my neighbor stood, in her kitchen …Holding up her own cat and making him wave at Alton.

Mental thought: "This is not happening."

I returned her cats wave with a smile that can only be likened to that of ripping off a Band-Aid and in a moment that may haunt me if I ever see her on the street …I clumsily reached for my blinds and pulled them down.

Mental thought: "Crap."

And that folks, is how your invite to the summer block party oddly gets lost in the mail.

Org. Post: Friday, February 29, 2008

Birds Of A Different Feather: Seven Degrees of Convenience

2/24/08

Scene: Yesterday, mini-break, work's back parking lot

[15 ft. away from the building, mind you …A few of you might have heard me question just who came up with 15 ft. Why 15? 14 ft.: You're going to die, 16ft.: You're safe from any carcinogens. Watch your foot.]

The far fence of the parking lot is shared with a flat of apartments (mainly their back stairwell/decklets). As I walked out towards the lone bench …Taking a moment to forget the terms "spay" and "neuter" …I heard:

"La la la ….laaa laaaa loooo la la la la …La! La! La! Laaaa!"

A few floors up, a young girl was belting it out for the world to hear.

"Laa! Laa! Laaaaa! Ahhhh! La-La-Laaa!"

As I sat down, I smirked to myself …Remembering my own youthful choruses.

Many of my early years were spent living in a Burhm-styled house. Off of one of the house's side slopes, my Mother had planted a bird feeder. At the time, "Sleeping Beauty," was one of my favorite movies. I was in awe of Beauty's gift of song …which invited blue, red and yellow birds to perch upon her shoulders.

Like most children, I had an endless imagination …But I was quite practical. I entertained such fanciful thoughts as birds sitting on my shoulder …But where do birds visit? The bird feeder, of course!

I'd stand there by the bird feeder, broad shouldered and singing who knows what (at the time, I only owned two 45s: Naked Eyes "Always Something There To Remind Me" and Denise Williams' "Let's Here It For the Boys") …I think it went something like "AhhhAHHHHahhh …Ahhhh! Doop, doop, chick, chick …Ahhhhh! Ahhhhhh!" I'd throw in an occasional air-drum sequence, a couple of soft handclaps …But no sudden movements, I'd hate to scare off the birds.

The young girl, up over my head continued.

"La! La! Lala-LA! Laaaaa!"

I would wait …my voice straining …C'mon birds! I started noticing that not only were the birds staying away from my shoulder …But they must be visiting another bird feeder (they had to eat, afterall). I wouldn't see or hear anything, aside from my own drone between my ears …"Ahhhhh! AhhAHHHHahhhhOOOOO! Chick, doop, zop zop …Ahhhh!"

After about 5 mins of sitting on the loneliest of benches, my toes starting to numb …The girl above continued. My smirk started to fade …My brow began to furrow and I felt a slight throb in both temples. What I originally found somewhat charming …I was now feeling a hint of annoyance towards.

"LaaaaaaaaaaaLAAAAAAAAAAAlaaaa la la laaaaaaLA LA LA laaaaaaaa!"

I stubbed out my cigarette and stood up, glancing upward. Under my breath, silently to myself, I said what I wish someone had told me years ago:

"The birds aren't coming."
___________________________________________________________

[pause]

Marshall: "Wait, did you just say 'a nib off of ol Grandma's cough syrup'?"

[pause]

Me: "Yes."

________________________________________________________

Reason No. 644: Why I'm Glad to Call Chicago Home

Last Monday, while on my lunch break, I walked over to my nearest neighborhood corner store.

[enter]

Woman: "Hello!"

Me: "Hi!"

[I recognized this woman, standing near the doorway, as my former neighborhood's corner store clerk …Granted, I lived in my old neighborhood for 5 yrs. …I was still surprised she recognized me]

Woman: "Did you move to this neighborhood? Is that why I don't see you no more?"

Me: "Yeah, last July. How are you doing?"

Woman: "Doing good, good! Your hair is so long!"

Clerk: [towards woman] "You know each other?"

Woman: "Yes, she used to come into my store. Blue pack, right?"

Clerk: [gesturing towards woman/looking at me] "This is my cousin! [towards woman/cousin] "This is one of my favorite customers."

Me: [polite laugh] "Thanks …" (she doesn't know that I've been cheating on her with the gas station. Crap).

Clerk: "Blue pack?"

Woman/Cousin: "Blue pack! I knew that!"

Me: "Yep!"

[a few more pleasantries exchanged and I somehow promised to visit the old store sometime soon]

Perhaps one of the cashiers at my nearby grocery is cousins with my all-time favorite grocery clerks, from my old neighborhood …"Thanks for my receipt …You wouldn't happen to know a 'Winnie,' would you?"

That would be reason no. 645.

___________________________________________________

This evening, the tag on my tea's bag says: "Keep Up"

Thanks a lot, Yogi.

Org. Post: Saturday, March 01, 2008

Knock, Knock: Keep Your Address To Yourself

Last Wednesday, I ran into my next door neighbor Derek. Given our schedules, the cold temps and regardless of the fact that our front doors are a mere foot apart, we haven't been running into one another as often.

[Ok, so I was leaving my apartment the other week and as I walked down the stairs, I heard his door open …And in turn took to running down the rest of the stairs. I wasn't in the mood to run into anyone …Nothing personal towards him.]

Truth is, in the [almost] year I've lived in this apartment, I've thanked my lucky stars for a neighbor like Derek. He's courteous, has a sense of humor, outgoing without being intrusive and the guy gave me a hammer …with a handle. Not to mention we have a handful of shared interests …In the summertime, when I spend my mornings off on our shared decklet, I can still listen to NPR on Derek's kitchen radio.

The day I moved in, I met my apartment's former tenant for a key exchange (the same keys I would lose later on that day) …She had nothing but nice things to say about Derek and expressed she was sort of sad to be leaving because he was the "best neighbor …ever".

I was curious, I'll readily admit …Derek does have a small sign on his front door that reads: "Stay on medication" …A few days after my move, I finally met Derek, who welcomed me to the building and peppered me with friendly questions/helpful tips …At the same time, I also met his girlfriend, Cecelia (aka "the girlfriend with the cold stare and secret hatred towards me"). Cecelia would only visit on the weekends …I was surprised to find that she lived in River North …But to each their own.

Throughout the many months, Derek and I have always had out "catch-up" run-ins …As we share our weekly/monthly updates on life …Derek cues me in at which point my life goes from "book-worthy" to "screenplay-worthy".

When I ran into Derek, last Wednesday (back to the beginning), we had our regular update …And this time around Derek had news: He and Cecelia are looking for a two bedroom come April and he needs to sublet his apartment through September.

I expressed my congrats and inquired on their search …I shared a few tips that saw me through my own apartment search, around this time last year. We left things at a "screenplay" level, wished one another a good evening and I continued on my way to run a few errands.

A few steps and puddle jumps later, it hit me: Crap!

This means a new neighbor(s). I immediately started to think of the endless possibilities of what could be literally put on my doorstep, come springtime …Or: "What I Do Not Want Living Next to Me".

First on my list of new neighboring fears:

-The Borrower: Sure, I have a can opener I could lend you …That's innocent enough. You need a corkscrew? Ok. Before you know it, it's "Can I borrow this?"/"Can I borrow that?" …Knock, knock (Have I ever mentioned my fear of door knocks?) …"Aww, I used to have a cat growing up ..His name was Smokey and he was grey! …I miss him so much! Hey, do you think I could borrow one of your cats?"

No, no …and no. I've debated accelerating my Arabic lessons just in case.

Borrower: "Hi there neighbor! Hey, I'm having issues with my stove and I need to bake six lasagnas for my upcoming Grey Gargoyles: Society of Creative Anachronism dinner party, do you mind?"

Me: "Ayna ajedu al merhaad?"

Borrower: "Oo, I'm sorry …I can't understand you."

Me: "Al Maghreb baladun jameel!"

Borrower: "Ah …Sorry to bother you!"

Me: "Ohibbu allughah al Arabia!"

[Note: I've found that "the borrowers" usually go hand in hand with the "never-returners"].

Next on my list:

-First Time Living Together Couple (and they hate each other): I don't want to play party to your "locked in a lease" squabbles. So he's not listening to you and yeah, you may have kissed that guy …I'm not going to spend my evenings huddled in a corner, listening to your stomping, your door slamming, your eerie silences that are only broken with what I can only assume was a dish or perhaps something of great personal importance to the other. My parents divorced nearly 12 yrs ago, I've already been through all of that. It also goes without saying (or as the saying goes with saying), I will not put you up for a night, I will not play Dr. Phil to your Britney Spears. I am simply not home.

[Note: This also includes any loud or obnoxious/earth-shattering make-up sex]

-Those Who Can't Cook or Cook Awful Smelling Food: Nourishment is a main factor in life. We all must eat. It's fortunate that I actually like curry …But if my nostrils are constantly assaulted with what I can only assume is your dinner …Check, please. I included those who can't cook for the fact that I'm not a big fan of that char smell …I should also point out that this isn't me being a vegan. Feel free to sizzle up your 5lbs of bacon …Just don't make it extra crisp so that I too have to share in your meal (and hold my breath for the sound of your smoke detector).


-The Elderly: That's right, I'm an ageist. Go ahead and point your finger …The Elderly can be charming and I'm not immune to their stories of long ago …As a matter of fact I might even enjoy such tales. However, I'm not going to live in fear of not seeing you for days and a strange odor coming from underneath your doorway (Again, this isn't me being vegan). I do not have any corn salve and I'm sorry that you think the mailman is conspiring against you …Yes, technology is out of control and carrier pigeons are sorely missed. You're embittered by life and know it all, I get it. This of course plays into my lifelong quest to make the elderly like me …Something I subconsciously do whenever I'm met with said elderly. I start talking like them and for some reason beyond me I try and make them realize that I'm no young rascal hooligan, eyeing their purse or running off to pierce some part of my anatomy.

-Karaoke King/Queen : You've worked hard all week at your desk job, which is silently chipping away at your true life's passion: the gift of song. We already have one of these hopefuls in the building. It usually starts Friday night and finds it's way through Sunday. I can't even decipher which song is which, until "Love Shack," comes up on the docket. I'm convinced that this karaoke king/queen lives in the condo next door …If I can hear it from that distance, I'm afraid of what it'd be like next door.

-Those Who Never Blink …Ever: This one is sort of self-explanatory. Non-blinkers are scary. Where's the emergency? Did you just see a ghost? Oo, you're just saying "hello".

And of course there are those that are a given: serial murderers/rapists, kleptomaniacs, pyromaniacs, crying babies, Peeping Toms," child pornographers, addicts of various notable forms, Al-Qaeda, poets.

It's a big city, I understand …It's hard to find a good place for a good price. Moving spares no one …But let me remind you, it's a lot easier to accept everyone/everything and to keep an open mind …A lot easier, unless it's right next door.

Org. Post: Tuesday, March 11, 2008

Unicycles + Untied Sneaks: You Only Live Once

Matthew: "Hey, did you see Darjeeling Limited?"

Me: "Uh, unfortunately …"

Matthew: "What!? C'mon, you hated Life Aquatic and that was a great movie!"

Me: "I watched it a few nights ago and it left me grumpy for the rest of my evening …It was bad. Granted I only had about 50% confidence in it being good BUT …still."

Matthew: "Aw, I still have to see it. Cody said it was sweet!"

Me: "Matthew …Cody's Mom is a clown …"

Matthew: "I know and he's been dealing with that his whole life, ok Amanda?"

It's true, Cody (one of my brother's longtime best friends), his Mother is a professional clown. Jewels the Clown to be more exact. Available for birthdays, work parties, bat/bar mitzvahs, weddings and she's also known to tour Bob Evan's fine dining establishments.

…And I thought it was difficult explaining to my peers that my Mother is a phlebotomist.

_________________________________________________________

Barely three months into 2008 and I've already managed to break my New Years' resolution.

New Year's Resolution: Unite my shoes before putting them on.

Ok, so I made this resolution when I was wearing shoes without laces …I thought I'd be home free but I recently bought a new pair of sneakers that involve laces.

It's all downhill from here.

__________________________________________________________

Pet peeves, I'm sure you have a few. Not to be left out, I do as well. I've mentioned them here or there (mayonnaise -yick, people who drive with their pets on their laps -and I'm attempting to cross the street, improper grammar that's not used in for the sake of irony …etc.)

Today two of my pet peeves collided and I've survived to type about it.

1. The elderly

2. People staring at me as I eat.

I decided to treat myself to a bowl of lentils and falafel, for lunch today.

There I sat, pretending to read a book that has been in my bag for the past few months. Less than a foot away from me, at eye level (keep in mind that I was sitting down and I'm 5'7 + ¾"), an elderly woman was starring at me. I questioned whether or not she and her fellow elderly friend were escapees from a nearby nursing home (or as I call it, while walking by, the "don't look, don't look, don't look," building.

[You can actually look into the lonely little rooms, decorated in various memorabilia and handy-crafts. I know this probably makes me an awful person. I do respect my elders but when you come face to face with their memories and the smell of bleach mixed with urine, it makes me uncomfortable. You're right, that's probably the guilt of my youth. Correction: I'm an awful guilty person with taught skin.]

Elderly Woman: [staring at me, a lick of her lips]

Me: [chewing, cursing my inability to hold a book and a falafel sandwich at the same time. I was seated next to a blank wall, which lent nothing to mindlessly look at]

Elderly Woman: [continued staring] 'That looks tasty. I bet that's really tasty."

Me: [mouth full, trying to project kindness from my eyes]

Elderly Woman: [lick of lips …I wish she'd stop] "Mmm, that's good."

Me: [slight nod, chewing at the speed of light]

Elderly Woman: [reaches into her coat pocket, pulls out a used tissue and wipes her nose …staring at me]

Me: [gulp …polite smile]

I fought the urge to break off a piece of falafel and throw it behind her.

One should never waste falafel like that.

I'm awful + guilty. I can't believe I've posted this either. Please address your letters to my Mother.

Mom: "Mandy, never out me in a home."

Me: "Mom, I've been telling you since I was a child that you don't have to worry about that. I'm going to sign you up for electric shock therapy."

Mom: "Oo Mandy, just put me in a boat and give me some oars."

Me: "Are we talking ocean, lake …boat expo?"

Mom: "Just make sure it's not too deep! You know I've always been a wader."

Me: "Perhaps Matthew will someday buy a house with an in ground pool."

Mom: "And a rocking chair!"

Me: "So you want a pontoon?"