home, sweet home

Last night was the first time I have been in my tiny apartment for longer than 20 minutes since 9/11. Last night was the first time I have had a meal that was not delivered, picked-up, or hotel food since 9/11. Last night was the first time I did not worry about killing (or loosing) cats on an hourly basis.

Last night was wonderful.

In the past few weeks I have house/cat sat, shot a short film, started rehearsals, went to San Fran for work, fell down a flight of stairs, and have been hungry 20 out of the 24 hours a day.

Last night I left work and went straight home. I put on my pajamas, turned on Charlie Gibson, and started to cook dinner. What I would make for dinner was a dilemma for me all day. The contents of my fridge and pantry were something like this: frozen chicken, expired guac, 2 bottles of white wine, 1 bottle of champagne, brown rice, black beans, soy mozzarella cheese, and salsa. Obviously all of the necessary ingredients for the perfect quick, easy, and satisfying meal.

After consultation with a well respected cook, we decided on a menu:

• Pitch the guac - no sense in making myself sick on my first home cooked meal
• Bake the chicken, when it is almost done, add some salsa on top, once it is warmed through add the mozzarella cheese and hope it melts (b/c fake cheese doesn't always melt like normal cheese)
• Cook the brown rice in chicken broth (if i can find it in the back of the pantry) and add some of the black beans for a veggie/legume
• Finally, a glass of wine, just for good measure
  

It wasn't my finest meal - but it did the job. I made my meal watching the news. I ate my meal, sitting on my couch, watching Seinfeld with bad reception. I cleaned up my dishes watching Criminal Minds (secret fav show I have). I could not have been happier.

Today I went to the farmers market downtown. I now have veggies, bread, fruit, and even some frozen ground beef. (I see a meatloaf in my near future.) I am not sure what dinner to night will be, but at least I will have a full fridge. To me, there is nothing sexier than a full fridge.

My home may be small. I don't really get to choose what room to sit in. I only have 4 chairs, and have to improvise seating with a stools and ottoman. But, the past few weeks I have learned that my apartment works for me. To quote one of my favorite advertising slogans, "It is just my size."

I am ready for fall to start. I want to have fires (in the fireplace) and cuddle up with blankets and hot tea. I have to do this because I refuse to turn on my heat until there is snow on the ground or my pipes freeze - whatever comes last.

This is the first apartment I have renewed my lease at in Chicago. That is a very big deal for me. But it makes sense now. It is my home, and I think I might stay there for a while.

42

It takes 42 consecutive nights of going to the same ice cream place and order the exact same thing until they give it to you for free.

Tonight was night 42.

Each of the workers have know my face for a while. A few weeks back they knew my order right away. They were even calling to the back for it while there were still people in front of me in line. But tonight was the break-through. The manager was there, who I have had fairly in-depth discussions about the fruit to chocolate to cream ratio that makes for excellent flavors. She came in from the back, saw me at the window, said, "I got it." and went to grab my Raspberry Chip Cheesecake, kid's size, in a cup. I sheepishly look at the couple beside me and say, "I'm a regular".

This past week I have really been contemplating if they the girls that work there think I am crazy or have an eating disorder. They may think I am homeless and beg for the $2.50 habit I have. (they would think this because I usually go in the same cut-off sweatpants and Produce-A-Plenty polo shirt I put on each night as soon as I get home from work.

But when the manager brought up my order to the window, she said it was, "on her." I at first refused, then thanked profusely. So this leads me to believe that I am not the crazy fat girl that comes every night. (though one time I did run to them in heals, 4 bags, and a dress yelling from across the street, "Are you still open for one more order!?!?!")

No. I am the loyal customer base who recommends Annette's to anyone in the city looking for good ice cream (or Italian Ice - though I have never had it). No recession will get me down. I will gladly skip Starbucks for my ice cream. Annette's recognizes this and rewards it.

Thank you Annette's!

(Annette's is located on the NE corner of Armitage and Bissell)

Disclaimer - I officially endorse Annette's for ice cream in the Chicago area. However, until Greater's starts coughing up freebies, they aren't going to get any promos from me.

Teaching Tapas

You can teach a lot of things:

• how to make hospital corners with the sheets when making a bed
• how ride the CTA like a bad-ass and no one will mess with you
• how to fake knowing about sports to have meaningless conversations in the office kitchen
  

But you can't teach tapas. At least, not on a date.

The other night I went to a tapas restaurant on a date. He is new to the city and hasn't gotten around a lot or gone to many restaurants. It is kind of fun to play know it all and pick out places to eat. But you can't teach someone how to eat tapas.

Tapas is the eating art of sharing. Tapas is Spanish cuisine in small sized portions created for sharing and passing. The whole point of eating tapas is to try little bits of lots of things. Order 2 or 3 dishes at a time and share and pick off of each other's plates. It is a communal eating experience. But if the person you are dining with does not understand the fundamental fact of tapas - sharing - this is very difficult.

There are only so many ways to say, "Why don't I give you a few dates rolled in bacon?" "Here, share some of this crab dip and toasted bread?" "Can I please try some of your freaking meatballs with sherry tomato sauce?"

You just can't teach tapas.

After the date, I emailed him with the complimentary awkward message saying things just aren't going to work out. In his message back he actually used the term "you beat me to the punch." Well, I wanted to punch you when you wouldn't share. So yes, I beat you.

You just can't teach tapas

Don't say I never try anything new

I will admit to it, I am a creature of habit. I enjoy consistency and repetition. However, today I did two new things.

1. I wore jeans and heels. Know, since the mid 80's I have thought it was an atrocity to wear jeans and high heeled shoes. And, I am afraid to admit it, in recent years I have not so subtly commented on others in restaurants wearing heels and jeans. (I was simply asking a question - When did it become to wear jeans and heels?) But I have recently seen more and more women whose style I admire wear jeans and heels. And today, I wore my new Lucky Brand Jeans (just cut the tags off today!) and my cutest brown heels. Though the train ride was a little rougher than usual (my center of gravity was off because of the heels) I think it was a very successful outfit day.

2. I went to the Billy Goat Tavern for lunch. I have lived in Chicago for almost 5 years now. And there are many 'touristy' things I have done: Navy Pier, Signature Room, Aquarium. But I have never been to the Billy Goat Tavern, made famous in Bill Murray's SNL skit...until today. I had a single cheezeburger, fries, and a coke. But then I chatted up the cook and got a double. It was awesome.

I am very proud of myself. Perhaps I am turning over a new leaf - trying new things, new styles, new foods. But, then again, maybe not.

please sir, no more

I have had oatmeal for breakfast for the past four days. It is good oatmeal, but I now look on it as gruel. The oatmeal is leftover from Mother's Day breakfast. It is a great recipe that my sister shared. Apples (my fav) cranberries, walnuts, brown sugar - oh my! But now, I am done with it.

But, I still have 1/2 a container of it left. I brought it to work (because that is where I eat breakfast) and I think my co-workers actually think it is gruel. I was a freak of nature to them when I was on the Skinny Bitch diet, now it is even worse.

Pleas sir, no more oatmeal. Give me my apples and earl grey back. No more healthy fibrous breakfast meals.