Argyle Avenue Philosopher

A month removed from the flood. I've been in the new apartment for just about a week, all of the tubs are unpacked, pots and pans washed and rewashed. Miraculously, all of my fish survived, once again in spite of tremendous neglect.

For those who hadn't heard, I qualified for FEMA assistance money, which has largely gone toward replacing home goods so far. It was a healthy sum, and I still have over a grand left.

I'll post new pics of the new place eventually. I like it. The bedrooms are much bigger and the layout is better for two people. I traded "three steps down" for "three flights up", the latter being something I swore I would never do once I got the dog. But we're adjusting. I swear Atlas has pooped out sooner of a night than what he used to (PTL!). And he's totally smitten with the great beast of a Great Dane that lives next door.

The flood business has been great for meeting neighbors, both within the building and on the street. I now have an extra set of keys swapped with my friend Ann Upstairs (literally, that's what I have in my cellphone for her name, even though she now lives downstairs from me) and couple of offers for pet-sitting when the need arises.

I guess I had my first hint that life was getting back to normal on the drive home from work today. Previously in a near-constant state of preoccupation (where will I live? how long until vacation? where can I find a 3'x3' ottoman for under $200?), I was pleasantly surprised on my way home by an "only in Chicago" moment.

The El Blue line runs right down the middle of the highway I take to and from work each day. I was approaching my exit, a train passing me in the opposite direction. In classic Chicago El fashion, the cars were unadorned ribs of steel and plates of glass. Above in the skies, a front had been moving in and dark, wild curls of blue-grey clouds contrasted against a treeline of yellow-red autumn colors. For just a few moments, while the train passed in front of all this, it caught the light from the sun setting on the western horizon and blazed gold.

It was a type of collage unlike any I can remember seeing for some time: huge in its scope, industry and creation rubbing against each other, mundane in one sense, and entirely contemporary in another. It reminded me that this is why I live here now, to see things I can't see anywhere else, become someone only this good hard place can make me. Take a chance, get burned (or soaked, as the case may be) and let the act of putting it all back together, fearfully, prayerfully, teach me where I need to go next.

I've told people that I can't remember feeling so lonely as I did that first night after evacuating the flooded neighborhood, sleepless on a borrowed air matress in a partially rehabbed apartment, unsure of where I was going to living that next day, what of my beloved "things" I had lost, what the next step would or should be. A month later, I've never been so aware of my desire and need for connection, nor of my own ability to buckle down and survive, keep life afloat by alternate measures of sheer self will and total surrender. That may not mean much in the posh bougie life I live most days. But I know it's there.

Starbukked!

My brain just isn't right sometimes.

This morning I had the following conversation with myself FOR THE SECOND TIME this month:

Boundless Optimism Andy: "Running ahead of schedule this morning. Maybe stop for a beverage?"

Grumpy Morning Andy: "Whatever, sure, it's only money. What do you want?"

BOA: "Something cold?"

GMA:"What are you, stupid? Definitely cold."

BOA: "More coffee-y, more creamy, or more fruity?"

GMA: "Ugh. No coffee. Juice is empty carbs. I guess creamy."

BOA: "So, cold, and creamy. Flavored?"

GMA: "A little, but nothing obnoxious, or not. Something like an iced latte, without the espresso, and with no syrup."

BOA: "You mean, like, a glass of milk?"

GMA: "I guess so. Does Starbucks do that? What about Dunkin?"

BOA: "I'm pretty sure you can pick that up at the deli in the lobby for, like, 89 cents."

GMA: --------

BOA: "You're mad now because you're embarrassed. Don't shut me out!"

GMA: "Just keep your eyes on the road."

Son of Lincoln

It's official. I am an Illinois resident.

The Friday before The Flood, I had taken the day off for my Second City conservatory audition (did I mention I got in? :). Since I have been scootering around illegally (read: on an expired Missouri permit), I had set aside the morning to brave the Chicago DMV to get my Illinois Class L license (motorbikes under 150cc).

I was nervous. Like most sane people I hate the DMV, and I'd only been to those in the suburbs.

I'm out of energy for eloquence tonight, so I'll be precise:

1) The DMV was A) Massive, B) Clean, C) Very Well Organized, and D) Staffed By Genuinely Helpful People.

2) I was forced to surrender my Missouri license, take the Illinois driver's exam on the fly without any advanced study, and get my Illinois license before they would agree to scooter me.

When the nice lady at Station 17 told me the above, I told her I was concerned that I might fail the test. She said to me, "Honey, the only people that fail it are those that don't speak English." Which was kind of cool, because I think all women who work at the DMV should start every sentence with "Honey...", but was kind of sucky because it set a standard of which I was terrified of falling short. And also a little bit xenophobic. But just a little. And, after all, everyone's a rittle bit lacist.

So, I passed, and got my license and my scooter permit. I would post a picture, but the Man Mane was not having a good day. I look a little like Lorenzo Lamas.

The other good that came out of this was that I am now registered to vote up here. I'm glad I got that taken care of prior to the flood, because I can see that as being one of those things that I let fall by the wayside while I'm doing other life-y stuff.

Flood Pictures

I am in my second "temporary" placement via my property managers, and the good news is that not only am I back in the neighborhood I know, but I also have stolen internet! Or rather, a generous neighbor with a strong enough signal and no security. Hooray.

This means I can finally post some pictures of the flood and it's aftermath for you. The pictures in the second post show the waters at the highest I saw them. Based on the watermarks on the wall, it appears that overnight it got much higher--3 to 3 1/2 feet in total. Fortunately, I didn't have to wade around in that!

More Pictures

Flood Update

I had all sorts of good stuff built up waiting for posting...my parents visited over Labor Day weekend and we had a GREAT time; I found a nice Saturday green market closer to home, where I lost my camera, bought a new one, and had my old one returned to me; I got cast in a workshop production here, which will be meeting through the fall; and, I just found out, I was ACCEPTED INTO THE SECOND CITY CONSERVATORY PROGRAM!

Unfortunately, as most all of you know, bigger news has happened.

On Saturday, September 13, 2008, my neighborhood, Albany Park, was deluged with a combination of leftover Hurrican Ike storms and a slow moving cold front. This resulted in about 24 hours of solid rain, which flooded first the nearby Chicago River, then the adjacent sewers, and ultimately the streets, yards, and sublevels of the buildings on my block. This includes my garden apartment.

48 hours later, here are the facts. My apartment has been ruined. A lost some personal property, namely bigger items like sofas, tables, etc. I also lost some personal memorabilia, including a box of pictures and souveneirs representing the years 1996 back through middle school. My renter's insurance has no clause for flooding, so I have no means of recompense.

But I am safe. Atlas is safe. Many very important and valued objects were unharmed. My property manager has been extremely gracious, taking me into his home for cleanup, then temporarily housing me in a different unit while a permanent solution arises. There is a possibility I could be housed permanently again by the end of the week. In spite of the fact that I was sloshing around in sewage and river water in sandals in 50 degree weather with pre-existing cold, I have not developed pneumonia or any other acute ailments (although I did swing by an urgent care center today, just to rule out Hep A exposure, thankyouverymuch Lisie).

I have been overwhelmed by support from back home and among short-time friends here. I already have offers from co-workers for extra furniture. Caring messages and prayers have been abundant, and in my shock and uncertainity I have certainly felt a blanket of grace and protection.

I have been trying this afternoon to post pictures, but I have to use my cell phone as a modem, and I am afraid the connection is too slow for photo uploads. Hang tight, as I hope to have this remedied in the next couple of days.

Meanwhile, thanks again for your support. Let me know if there are any questions I can answer for you.

Much love,

Andy (and Atlas)

Neighborhood: Greektown

I'm tragically behind in updating, and my parents are due to roll in any minute for a holiday visit. So I'm going to pound this out pretty quickly.

Last Sunday was Greek Fest in the city's Greektown neighborhood. I was pretty excited about this because: A) I like Greek Food, and B) I'm always ready to explore beyond the city's north side.

Greektown is in area called the West Loop or West Loop Gate, just a few block's walk from the El Loop downtown and fairly close to Union Station. The city skyline, and especially the Sears Tower, are right at the doorstep of the neighborhood. With disparate ideas of "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" , "Mamma Mia", and that place where Jerry, Elaine, and George would get their coffee on, I was expecting neat bungalows and greasy spoon restaurants, the streets filled with dancers (ABBA excluding) and folks yelling out "oompa!" every so often.

Unsurpsingly, the reality is quite different. As the shopgirl at one of the bakeries said, "We don't live here, we just eat here". There's no real neighborhood to speak of, as Greektown consists largely of about a three block stretch of Halsted Street. It's an interesting area, and wandering off of Halsted will put you in the middle of cool condo conversions, spas, and a restaurant called, intriguingly, "Butter". But there are no Orthodox churches nearby, no traditional single-family residences to speak of, and certainly no garage doors painted with Greek flags.

What it might lack in breadth, it makes up for in intensity. That short stretch of Halsted packs some serious Hellenic culinary heft, with restaurant after restaurant after bakery backed up one against the other. The fest consisted largely of each restuarant pitching a tent in front of its respective storefront and doing some serious foodie showmanship. I opted for two favorites: the flaming cheese appitizer known as saganaki and the grape leaves stuffed with beef, lamb, and rice with lemon sauce, also known as dolmades. Great stuff.

Me being me, however, the highlight was the trip to the bakery, which had cleverly prepackaged a sampler with rosewater cakes, pistachio mini-pies, a variety of other goodies and, of course, baklava. Redd, my cohort for the afternoon, showed considerably more restraint and opted for a single piece of chocolate-dipped bakalava.

I'm determined to get back for the unseasonable weather hits, as a couple of the restaurants had fantastic patios and specialities listed on the menu that were tempting enough to encourage movement away from my old stand-bys.

Southport Green Market: Kind of Lame, Kind of Not...well...Mostly Lame

A Saturday in-home brunch invite afforded me the opportunity to hit another green market in the city, this time the one housed in one of my favorite areas: Southport.

KKagogo had offered to whip up some french toast for me at her great apartment near the dog beach, and invited both me and pooch over for some vittles and R&R. Impressed as I have been by the seasonal produce lately, I offered to bring over a fruit salad. Southport, while not necessarily on the way to KK's was at least closer than Lincoln Park. I figured, given its great collection of pubs and cafes, that the green marked there would have some pretty fantastic offerings.

It's important to recognize that the Southport Green Market is only in its second year of existence, so I guess they're still trying to get their act together. It is housed on the grounds of Blaine School, right in the middle of all the action, and across the street from the Music Box Theater, Chicago's north side indie cinema capital. Wrigley Field is about four blocks due east. Hipsters, strollers, and hipsters with strollers containing baby hipsters abound. As do a pretty solid khaki-and-polo shirt set.

The market consisted of about seven to eight vendors, of which two sold fresh produce, one sold cheeses, and another had eastern European pastries. The others sold pottery and purses, a few flowers, and I can't even remember what else. Maybe insurance, or time shares. Florida swampland. Rainbows and promises. Whatever. Not the best selection.

I picked up a few Michigan peaches and a pint of blueberries, both of which were of very good quality. Even though I was on my way to brunch, I also picked up a pain au chocolat (croissant with a bar of chocolate baked in), because, well, it looked good and why do I have to explain myself to the likes of you? This ended up being fortuitous, as KK called shortly thereafter and begged a raincheck due a rough night out with friends the previous evening.

I think the nicest thing about the Southport Green Market is the setting. Blaine School and its surroundings have obviously undergone a good deal of redevelopment lately, and there are a couple of playgrounds and a nice greenspace that were being entertainingly enjoyed by the hipster and preppie offspring. They also had a nice doggie bowl with fresh water and plenty of treats for the four-legged patrons. Not to mention plenty of outposts for a Bloody Mary or espresso doppio in which to drown your sorrows over the fact that you're still going to have to give up that sweet parking space outside your building in order to trek out to Whole Foods for those cepes or daikon you were hoping to score. Such are the trials of the bourgeois.

In the middle of all this stood me, with dog on leash and a backpack containing poop baggies and a bottle with the last few drams of balsamic vinegar I bought a few years back in Florence. It was hot, over 90 degrees at 10AM already and the man mane was being blown hither and thither by the breeze. I was confused, disappointed, and a little disoriented. Then I looked over and saw a pair of blondes looking my way and smiling.

"This is good," I thought.

Then they started giggling.

"This is not so good," I thought.

I looked down to see my charming pup, leg hiked, relieving himself on basket of cantelopes. So much for sophistication. I shot a nervous glance over at the vendor, who was negotiating a sale, and beat a hasty retreat. From what I could tell, it looked like Atlas had missed contact with the actual fruit, but had succeeded in creating a soggy corner of the basket.

Later, on the drive home, I stuck my greedy paw into the bag of blueberries and started liberally sampling. After about the second handful it occurred to me that if my dog could piss on this guy's cantelopes, who knows what had happened to these blueberries? The rest waited until we got home.

Gary Sinise and The Lt. Dan Band, Chicago Air and Water Show

Let's be thankful for that contract with CBS, Gary.

Bill Murray Skydives at Chicago Air Show

Just remember, when he finally jumps out of the plane, and you can see the land, somewhere far far to the left is little old me.

Get Thee To A Grocery

I've been trying to drum up some enthusiasm to post about this prior weekend's big Chicago event: the airshow. One weekend every August, all along the lakeshore just north of downtown, a pretty impressive collection of vintage and state-of-the art aircraft are demonstrated for masses of Chicagoans who collect at North Avenue Beach to watch not only the planes, but also such special goodies as hometown native Bill Murray making a parachute entrance (no kidding!) and a performance of the local band fronted by Steppenwolf Theater member (and CSI:NY lead), Gary Sinise. That's Lieutenant Dan to you.


But the truth is, I just couldn't get too enthusiastic about it. I didn't make it down to North Avenue Beach, and I was sort of infected by the local malaise that comes from the sound of constant jet screams disturbing the seemingly perfect summer skies.


I did have one cool encounter with the airshow. While driving KKagogo home from brunch on Saturday (Cafe Selmarie in Lincoln Square, scrambled egg whites, home fries, chocolate raspberry tart, yum), we were heading east, toward the lake, on Lawrence, when we heard one of those massive roars. I looked up directly in front of us to see a B-2 stealth bomber, making a turn to head back toward the crowds. Just as it crossed Lawrence, it banked away from us, from full massive bat-winged profile to the littlest sliver of a line in the sky, then sped away. Stealth, indeed.


So, multi-million dollar cutting edge military technology couldn't move me to write, but today, fruit did.


With the scooter, I've been taking smaller and more frequent shopping trips, which means I've been spending more time in various local groceries. I've also been more conscious of the quality of produce since visting the green market at Lincoln Park the weekend before last. I'm a food lover and amateur chef, so this is the kind of stuff that gets my attention. While at the green market, I had picked up some white peaches just to finish of my allocated $10 budget and they later proved to be the highlight of my carry-in lunches for the first two days of work last week. Subsequent shopping trips seconded the general quality of not only the peaches available, but also some eat-all-but-the-pits super-sweet nectarines. Add to that the beauty (and cheap prices) of late-summer strawberries and tomatoes, and it's a great time to be a fresh food lover.


When I first reformatted this blog, I said I was going to try to expand its content beyond resident tourism, but haven't been too successful so far. But moreso than any city exploration these past few weeks, I've been most excited about stuff like the great seasonal food I've been finding and a successful run at a classic french chicken stew.


Like it or not, you're about to get more flavor from Chiblogo.


Really, these white peaches are not to be missed. Run out to your local grocer and pick up a couple. They should have just a slight give under the skin, and, like most all ripe fruit, at least a little aroma when you sniff them. For best results, an additional 24 hours in a brown paper bag should bring them right about to perfect.


My favorite way to enjoy them is sliced real thin, in a bowl, with a couple of quartered ripe strawberries. The white peaches have a clean, bright, subtle sweetness that pairs well with the more broad sweetness of the strawberries. To really deepen the flavor, drizzle lightly with a good quality balsamic vinegar and just a little honey, then give a toss. I say load up now, it's the perfect way to end what has been a beautiful summer with a minimum of missed-opportunity regrets.

Web Revolt

Um, yeah. I don't know why those YouTube videos of the "tornado" didn't post until the 15th. I sent them from my YouTube account the same day I wrote the post about the storm, the 9th. When I noticed they didn't post that day, I assumed they just got lost in the digital ether. Weird. My apologies for any confusion.

Tornado Evacuation at Wrigley

Lots of shaky cam action in this one with amateur commentator. Takes you right into the action.

Lightning at Wrigley 8/4/08

The original title of this was "WRIGLEY HIT BY LIGHTNING: CUBS LOSE". Only half of that statement was true.

Lightning over the Chicago El (Brown Line)

I like this video. It's short and has some good clean action in it. Plus, Brown Line is my line.

August 4th Video #1

Okay, I'm warning you up front that not much happens here. But it's a beautifully composed shot, and if you turn out the lights and put on some new age music, I'm sure you'll get some sort of trip.

Pay attention, however, to the way the Hancock Tower slowly disappears in the upper right hand corner.

Media Blather

The following is a quote from Allessandra Stanley's article "True or False: Everyone Looks 10 Pounds Guiltier on TV" in today's New York Times, about the recent media appearances by John Edwards related to his disclosed affair.  I thought it was fairly insightful, if a bit mean-spirited.
 
"Narcissism doesn't lead politicians to believe that they can have an affair and get away with it. It leads them to believe that they can go on television and dispel it. "
 
It's an interesting read: http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/10/weekinreview/10stanley.html?_r=1&oref=slogin

City Treasure

I ran across this on the way home today:

Margie's Candies on Montrose. About a mile and a half from home. Less than 15 minutes by scooter. Directly under the Brown Line stop at Montrose. Homemade candies. Full-service old-fashioned soda fountain, with at least two whole menu pages of ice cream treats, including specialty sundaes, phosphates, and ice cream sodas. And, if the sign is to be believed, fresh apple pie by the slice.

Two scoops of coconut ice cream in a cake cone. $2.

Better Than Wonka's Golden Ticket?

As you have likely heard, the economic downturn has even Starbucks scrambling to try to turn things around.

One wicked, wicked, wicked tactic they are test-marketing here in Chicago (and, apparently, in Miami and Seattle) involves the Green Receipt.

The Green Receipt entitles you to a $2 grande sized iced beverage. This is nice for a couple of reasons. First, an iced drink on a hot day is refreshing. Secondly, for most items on the Starbucks menu, this is almost half its regular price. Thirdly, that price means its now with the realm of reasonable prices for a specialty beverage. This is a good thing, right? No, it's GREAT. Starbucks for the masses! Ticker tape parades! Sign. Me. Up.

How does one get The Green Receipt? This is where the evil bit comes in. The only way to get The Green Receipt is by buying FULL PRICE Starbucks beverage prior to 2PM. You then have to wait until after 2PM on THE SAME DAY before you can use The Green Receipt. Aaaannnddd...it expires that day. So, yes, in order to get the good deal, you have to visit Starbucks twice in the same day.

Cancel the parade. Call my lawyer.

This has led to something of a black market. As no one wants to be one of Those People who go to Starbucks twice in the same day, they'll go in the morning, get The Green Receipt, and then use it as a bit of leverage in a bartering exchange.

Which led to the following exchange, overheard at my office:

A: "I went to Starbucks on the way in."

B: "Yum. What did you get?"

A: "Mocha"

B: "Ooh. Did you get The Green Receipt?"

A: "Yeah, but I don't think I'm going there again today."

B: "Can I have it?"

A: "(laughing) What's it worth to you?"

B: "Well, I'm not going to pay you for it."

A: "Call my boyfriend for me and tell him he's being an [edited for general audience] about this trip."

B: "Ummm...okay."

See what I mean? Evil.

ChiScooter Outing #1

Today's forcast called for thunderstorms at some point, and all that I had heard most recently pointed toward an evening cloudbreak. Armed with this dangerous bit of speculation, I headed out thinking I would be safe in the open air. Needless to say, 10 minutes into the trip found me waiting out a brief rain at the Cafe Neo in Lincoln Square, about a mile from home. Obscenely large breakfast crepe of turkey and egg whites and good no-frills espresso. Free wi-fi. Patron of questionable mental status who left when his sandwich was served with tomatoes, which he claimed he had not requested.

The rain cleared quickly and I was soon on my way. As I've mentioned before, the streets of Chicago are laid out in a fairly consistent grid pattern, north to south and west of downtown, with a handful of streets running at a diagonal to make getting cross- and down-town more speedy. One of those diagonal streets is Lincoln Avenue, which defines the Lincoln Square neighborhood on it's northwest end.

The Green City Market is at the southeast end of Lincoln Avenue, terminating at Lincoln Park (the park) on the lakeshore in Lincoln Park (the neighborhood). In true Lincoln Park fashion, the Green City Market runs itself independently from the official farmer's market program sponsored by the city. It was everything you could hope for in a farmer's market: fresh produce at good prices, great speciality items (including flowers, meats, and local honey), outdoor troubadors, and made-to-order food stands. I picked up some french red shallots and mushrooms for a chicken dish I am going to try tomorrow, as well as some white peaches for lunches next week.

The market is right across a park road from a pretty nifty destination I had missed entirely during my first visit to the Lincoln Park Zoo, the "Farm". It's a faux farm, intended to give city kids the chance to gawk at cows and talk about planting corn with a real life "farmer". I had originally wandered in looking for a bathroom, but ended up hanging out for awhile, um, gawking at the cows and, errr, listening to some kids talk to a real life "farmer". My favorite moment came as I was leaving, when a tiny voice echoed out over the entire farm, "But Daddy, I don't have to go to the bathroom!".


I was determined to give scootering in Chicago a good trial, so I set my sights on driving through downtown to try to penetrate the navigational challenge that is collectively called The Museum Campus, on the lakeshore on the south side of downtown. The Museum Campus consists of the buildings for the Field Museum, Adler Planetarium, Shedd Aquairium, Soldier Field, and a few other marinas and park lands. Like Navy Pier, it sits at a remove from the bustle of downtown, separated by both Grant Park and the very busy Lakeshore Drive. I've been trying for sometime to figure out the best way to access it, and while I had several U-turns and more than one episode of doubling-back, I think I have at least a marginally improved understanding. Columbus Avenue. I think it's all about Columbus Avenue.Scootering in Chicago is fantastic! It is so much more of an immersive experience than either taking public transit or driving yourself. I had 10-second conversations with drivers at stoplights, surfed the tomato-basil wake of a pizza delivery truck, and opened up full-throttle for a northbound stretch of Lakeshore Drive. All of this on top of parking convenience (all of those parallel spots not big enough for your SUV? Not a problem. Wasted space in the corners of parking lots next to the grocery store? Insta-parking!). Not to mention that, in total, I spent about four hours on the road today and burned less than a quater tank of gas. Not bad considering my tank capacity is about 1.5 gallons. Cheaper than the CTA!