To the Posting, To the Posting ...

Originally written on: March 31, 2009

March 20th (Friday) marked the one week anniversary since Brian + I said our “I dos”.

I grabbed my apartment keys that hang on a hook near the front door, gave myself one more look over + headed down the winding staircase towards my apartment’s courtyard. Brian’s train had pulled into the city nearly a half hour before + he was now on the city’s red line headed towards me. I usually make a point to be waiting in front of the stop, denying having any spare change + at times pretending to be in the midst of a very important phone call to detract passersby, when Brian arrives.

“My husband” still feels funny to say …Especially when followed up with “actually lives two hours away + has yet to move in with me.” “Yet” being the keyword. Brian finishes school, in May + has slowly (and kindly) been moving his things into my apartment. There are a handful of his shirts hanging in the closet, comic books now take residence on top of the toilet’s tank in the bathroom. There’s turkey and real cheese in the fridge + an assortment of chicken flavored rice in the cupboard. During one of our weekends, he proudly placed one of his own books on my overcrowded bookshelf. I’ve framed a few of his sketches + he recently left a pair of his shoes, which greet me every time I arrive home. Come May, he will get off of that train once more, for good and our newlywed days of commuting will be something we will laugh about in the distant future …Much like pants with stirrups or 20-sided die.

Last week, marked not only two full weeks since our marriage but our first 10 days together, spent in secession. It was his spring break and a taste of life within the Phelps-Larsen household. Both a crowning achievement + a roaring success. It could be argued that most married couples have already crossed the bridge of cohabitation by the time they exchange their “I dos” but aside from our weekends spent together + a couple “extra” days together come holiday, Brian + I reveled in the simple joy that is going to bed + waking every morning to your spouse.

As I passed through my apartment building’s mail room, towards the courtyard …I noticed a brown package on the ground. Suspecting that it was for my next door neighbors, I took a quick glance + noticed that the address tag read: AMANDA PHELPS-LARSEN.

Aside from my Mother addressing her cards to me with “Amanda Phelps (Larsen),” I had yet to receive mail with my married name so I was pleasantly surprised + equally perplexed with the package at my feet. With my mail key, I proceeded to slice the tape + pull the flaps. Inside I found an order form + a note:

“Canon PowerShot A470 7.1 MP Digital Camera w/ 3.4x Optical Zoom (Orange)

Congratulations Amanda and Brian! We hope you use this to record all your times together and then post them on Facebook! Misses and Kisses, Lexi and Gabe”

I was shocked and quickly sprang to my feet, package in hand + the order form still between my fingers. I quickly walked towards the train, excited to tell Brian, stopping every few steps to reread the note.

One of the reasons Brian + I had such a small/quiet wedding was due to the fact that it seemed slightly wrong to invite people to a wedding with the expectation of giving gifts. Most of our friends are either unemployed, underemployed, fearful of losing their jobs or in Lexi’s case giving birth to her first child three days after Brian and I’s wedding. If anyone was to be off the hook, it would be Lexi and Gabe. I’ve known Lexi since our days at Central Intermediate. One of my best friends, she moved to Albuquerque three months before I moved to Chicago, 7 yrs ago (which had a role in my jump ship of Michigan).

Brian shared in my surprised after he stepped from the train and we walked towards home.

Me: Oo my goodness! You didn’t have to! Thank you so much …Brian + I are shocked! It’s perfect! We hope that you, Gabe + Diego are doing well! I can’t stop the !!!
Lexi: I’m glad you guys like it. I thought it would be better than a toaster.
Me: I bet it could make toast. It’s just that awesome! How are you? How’s Diego doing at home? Is he in college yet?
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Mr. + Mrs.

March 13th, 2009

Going to the Courthouse ....

Brian (left), waiting on the southbound train, Saturday March 7th, 2009.

We were headed downtown to the Daley Center to acquire our marriage license. It had been raining since we woke up at 9AM. We would joke later on in the day just how the thigh area of his pants managed to get wet; the rest remaining dry.

Me: “One trout, one sea bass.”
Brian: “The cooler was broken.”

Brian’s throat had been hurting throughout the week. It was especially scratchy on this morning. We left with a travel mug of throat coat tea, in hand.
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Since my lack of internet, Brian and I were camped out in front of a thick, neglected copy of the Yellow Pages and a couple Chicago tour guides, as we sipped our morning coffee.

Me: “Well, it must be where I get my state ID …I just don’t remember exactly how to get their via train …”
Brian: “This marriage court number isn’t answering …”
Me: “They must be open on the weekend. It’s City Hall!”
Brian: “Let’s try again at 10AM.”

10:04AM

Phone: “Ring. Ring. Ring.”
Woman: “Richard J Daley Center …”
Brian: “Ah hi! Ah, is this the number for marriage licenses?”
Woman: “No, that’s a different department.”
Brian: “How late are they open today?”
Woman: “They’re open until Noon.”
Brian: “Ok, thank you very much.”
Phone: Click.
Me: “What’s the number for the other department!?”
Brian: [jaw drops]
Me: [jaw drops] “Honey! WHERE is it!? That’s why we were calling!”
Brian: “Honey! This is why you shouldn’t have had me call!”
Me: “We FINALLY get a hold of someone and you forget to ask for the information we need!”
[fits of laughter]
Me: “I will just ask the CTA attendant what stop to get off at.” [putting on pants + cap]
Brian: “We have until Noon!” [putting pants + socks on]

We were out the door, umbrella + tea in hand, 5 minutes later.

[on the train]
Brian: “What time is it?”
Me: “I don’t even want to look!”
Brian: “We’re going to make it …We’re really doing this!”
Me: “We really are …I’m being cautiously optimistic. About getting there, honey, not about the marriage …I just don’t want us to get our hopes up.”
Brian: “We’ll make it, honey. You’re going to be my wife!” [leg shaking uncontrollably]
Me: [refusing to look at the time]
Brian + I: [smile] “We’re doing this.”

11:14AM

Brian: “I have to have my last cigarette as a single man.”

After a couple detours (and puddles), we made our way into City Hall. We were greeted by a somewhat stern woman at the metal detector. We emptied our coat pockets, I placed my bag on the conveyor belt. The stern metal detector woman pointed towards an escalator.

I should note that the City of Chicago City Hall’s marriage license office is located at the end of the longest + darkest hallway imaginable. There’s was an almost Lynch-like feel as Brian + I walked arm in arm towards our destination. A lone security guard sitting at a card table, nibbling at a sandwich, wordlessly pointed us towards the light at the end of the tunnel.

The set up was much like a bank, with drab furniture and teller podiums. There was a Korean couple, who seemed to be having a communication issue with their teller. Another couple, with the blonde leaned over the counter, sniffling here and there as she signed her certificate. To Brian + I’s left, a man who had been there earlier was arguing with a teller about why his wife-to-be wasn’t present. Brian + I looked at each other with a look that said “We’re a team” and stepped up to the closest open teller.

Man: “First things first, have either of you ever been married?”
Brian + I: “No, never.”
Man: “All right then. That’s done then. Good job! Congrats!”

1133AM

Brian + I walked up the same dark hallway, smiles ear to ear with our newly processed marriage license.

Brian + I: “We did it!”

As we reached the top of the escalator, the rainy grayness of the windowpanes shaking the darkness of our marriage license voyage …The (formerly) stern metal detector woman called us over …Her voice had taken on a completely new, near sweet, tone as she asked to see our license.

Woman: “Aww …When you two gonna do it?”
Brian + I: “Next week.”
Woman: “You just going to the courthouse?”
Me: “Yeah, for now …”
[at this point two other security guards join us to look at our marriage license]
Me: “ …We’ll have a more proper ceremony + reception later on when we are more financially secure.”
Security Guard: “That’s a good idea.”
Woman: “Aww …[looks Brian directly in the eye] …You love her right?”
Brian: “Yes, yes I do.”
Woman: “How long you two been together?”
Brian: [laughs]
Me: “…The first of the year.”
Woman: “Hey, all right now …[looks Brian directly in the eye] …Love at first sight, right?”
Brian: “Yes, yes it was.”
Woman: “Hey now, that can work …I’ve known people who have been together longer and they’re marriages didn’t work out. I see that you two are in love.”
Me: “Aww …Thank you, my parents were high school sweethearts, married 17 yrs and are divorced.”
Woman: “See? [looks Brian directly in the eye] You not gonna divorce her now are you?”
Brian: “No, no I am not.”
Woman: “Ummhmm, that’s good . Aww.”

All three security guards congratulated and wished us the best as Brian + I walk towards the exit. I quickly called my Mom + left a voicemail, as Brian + I opted to catch the train back. As the train neared our stop, Brian kept leaning over to kiss my cheek, both of us exclaiming “We did it!” and sneaking peeks at our license. I noticed a woman seated behind us.

Me: “Sorry …We just got our marriage license.”
Woman: “Oo congrats!”
We decided to head to the grocery + pick up a few celebratory sandwich fixings. I texted Lisa + invited her over to join us. We checked out with turkey, mock-turkey (for me), chips and a celebratory splurge on beer.

Me: “We just got our marriage license …We’re going to celebrate with turkey + beer.”
Check-Out Cashier: “Congratulations!”
Brian + I: “Thank you!”
Me: “I can’t help it, honey!”
[laughing]


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Later the next evening, as Brian + I headed out to meet a few friends for drinks, it had been another day of rain. We were skipping puddles on our way to the train …When it occurred to me that since I’ve never had a driver’s license, our marriage license was my first license ...for anything.

Me: “Honey, this is my first license ever!”
Brian: “It is!”
Me: “Look at these puddles …That’s a lake over there.”
Brian: “We could go fishing.”
Me: “I don’t have a fishing license!”

Fly Around My Pretty Little Miss(ter)

Like A Stamp To A Letter ...

Scene: 8AM, Lisa's kitchen. Lisa's busy making coffee, I step outside + quickly turn around.

Me: "Lisa, I'm going back outside but I'll be right back ...I need my camera! There are birds in your fence!"
Lisa: "What?"
Me: "You'll see -Birds!"

The Sharpest Crayon In The Box ...

Suffice: intransitive verb
1 : to meet or satisfy a need : be sufficient (a brief note will suffice) —often used with an impersonal it.
2 : to be competent or capable
transitive verb : to be enough for
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Scene: Saturday evening; Brian + I sitting on my living room's sofa.

Me: "[insert analytical mastery that escapes me at the moment] ...suffice."
Brian: "What does that mean?"
Me: [face falls]

Self-Mental Flash: "Oo no, he's dumb. Oo crap, wait, what? He's usually so smart, how can he not know what 'suffice' means? Uh-oh. How do I explain without being condescending? I don't want to hurt his feelings. Crap. I can't believe he doesn't know what 'suffice' means. I'm dating a guy who doesn't know what 'suffice' means. Crap. He's looking at me. He's reading my face. Ok, here goes ..."

Me: "Uh, well suff-"
Brian: "Honey! I know what suffice means, I was teasing! Did you really think I didn't know what 'suffice' meant?"
Me: [sigh of relief]

Self-Mental Flash: "Thank goodness! Thank you, thank you. I knew he knew what it meant! Of course he knew, I never doubted him for a second!"

Me: "Don't scare me like that! I didn't want to hurt your feelings!"
Brian: "Honey ...Suffice it to say you are a whore. Did I use it in the right context?"
Me: "Yes! I'm so relieved!"

[side-splitting/tummy aching laughter ensues]
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A-Click-Click-Click: Lima Bean, You A Bean!

“Remember: Fluffernutter (compared to life)”

I had been awake for nearly 24 hrs., last December and as I laid in bed, daylight highlighting the snow, I started to construct my next bit of writing.

My eyes grew heavy and my pillow was all too soft so before sleep finally found me, I reached for my bag which was hanging on the knob …I took out my pocketbook + fumbled for a pen. In my mini-notepad I wrote the above.

Everyday since then, I’m reminded: “Fluffernutter (compared to life)” and the piece that remains unwritten, unpenned.

So please bare with me, I assure you it’s coming ‘round the bend. For those who know me know that piece is within me with fluff, peanut butter + two slices of bread.
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I ventured out in the negative temperatures + purchased a couple necessities for my night in. My first stop was a small Mexi-mart, nearby. There I would purchase a can of butter beans. As I stood in line, a man cut in front of me.

Cashier: “Sir, the end of the line starts behind the woman with the red hat.”
Man: [on his phone] “She only has a can of beans.”
Cashier: “Sir, please step behind her.”
Man: [still on phone] “I won’t take that long, I only have a few things.”
Cashier: “Sir, she only has beans, it won’t take too long.”
Man: [still still on phone] “I’m in a hurry!”
Me: “It is a BIG can, sir.”
Man: [on phone, glares at me + my red hat. Insert audibly aggravated sigh as he steps behind me]

I made a couple more stops before heading home, my ears bright enough to match my cap but still intact.
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This evening, as I started to make dinner, I turned on a collection of Nina + started my chopping.



On the menu was a tried + true recipe that will forever mirror my life here, in Chicago.

It was the winter of 2003-04, I had lived in Chicago for nearly 2 yrs., in my then-breadbox sized studio apartment. I shared my first Chicago residence with only one cat, the infamous Lola. I was 21 yrs old on my way to 22. I was in a long distance relationship with a snarky artist, spent my evenings over cups of black coffee at a nearby diner, wore a white belt and picked up freelance work here/there after recently (and indefinitely) pulling myself away from writing reviews.

It was during this time I happened to befriend a man named Bill, who was raised in one of Chicago’s many Irish/Italian immigrant homes. His Mother, Italian, had spent her days cooking recipes for her family of 8 …”Peasant” recipes that were inexpensive, hearty + from her homeland of Italy. It was her recipe for butter bean soup that Bill would teach me + years later continue to find it’s way into my kitchen.
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I’m sure everyone has that one recipe, that one meal or dish that they’re good at …Even the worst of cooks must have that one culinary pitch-perfect note. Whether it be an expert bologna sandwich, the way you add carrots + tofu to Ramen or on a grander scale, Grandma’s Stove Top stuffing recipe. Microwave to oven-made, hot dogs to filet mignon.

I could make butter bean soup blindfolded (I also believe I‘m the sole owner of such bragging rights). I’ve changed the recipe somewhat from the original (fresh garlic opposed to garlic powder) but it remains basic, tasty + especially nowadays the all too important: cheap w/ budget-friendly leftovers. I’ve never posted the recipe but I’ve always been game to share it.

Ingredients:

-5 cloves fresh garlic (I happen to love garlic + with this weather any boost in immunity will do. Less/more depends on taste)
-1 can butter beans
-1C (or half a small bag) of pastini (small pasta)
-Water
-Salt/pepper to taste



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In an event of a fire, I’d be sure to grab my cats (it’s in their contract), hopefully have enough time to grab my pocketbook, my laptop, Primo’s insulin (that too is in his contract) …Of course, given more time I’d make sure to grab family photos, a few select books and my beloved stockpot.

Yes, beloved. Yes, a stockpot. Given to me as a gift a few years back by a former neighbor who manned the kitchens at the Drake Hotel, this stockpot has been the base of many a meals. Plus, I store it on the top shelf, in my kitchen, which makes me step onto my tippy-toes. Great for calve muscles.


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Back to the soup …

I start by smashing the garlic cloves (I buy them pre-peeled, a genius idea that secretly makes me bitter for not thinking of it). Placing my stockpot on a front burner, I click on the gas + coat the bottom of the pot with extra virgin olive oil (vegetable oil would work but eww).

Adding the garlic on low, I wait until it becomes fragrant w/ a few stirs before adding the complete contents of my one can of butter beans. Raising the heat to med/high, I half-cover + bring to a soft boil. It’s at this point that I add black pepper (sometimes red pepper flakes + celery seed because well, I like celery seed), stir.


Using the same butter beans can, I add one canful of water.
Half-cover + bring to a boil.

La Moderna makes great small pastas which can be found at grocery chains + small Mexican marts alike. Usually priced at 75 cents or less a bag, I opt for the stars due their strong resemblance to the Star of David. I never measure an exact amount but find that half a bag makes for plenty. When bean/garlic/olive oil mixture comes to a boil, add pasta + lower to a simmer, stirring occasionally.

Within 10-15 minutes (I chose to play with my brand new Slinky during this time. Note: Cats hate Slinkies) …Ta-da, soup’s on!

I like to add Saltine crackers (and ok, steal Saltines from the counter every time I walk back into the kitchen to stir the soup) + sometimes I add whole green beans or frozen sweet peas along w/ the pasta. I’m sure there are many things that could be added, Bill liked to add parmesan or a parm/romano blend.

Ridiculously simple. Store leftovers in the fridge, soup will thicken. Delicious.






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And now how about some more Nina?