(Boom) Boom Pow

I checked the weather last night, and it told me that today's high was anticipated at 56 (it actually got to 58).  I was at a loss for an outfit.  I guess due to our tepid-at-best summer, I just wasn't mentally prepared for the chill.  I got out the door this morning and it was like, boom, POW -- it is fall!   And, to quote those wordsmiths, the Black-Eyed Peas, "I liked that boom, boom, pow."

 

I went with an experimental outfit this morning.  That's what I like to call an outfit who's component parts are untried and untested with each other.  And, it was particularly experimental since I didn't bother to take it for a test drive at home before packing it and putting it on this morning, when it was too late to acknowledge that the experiment failed.  Today's experiment was comprised of individual pieces that made me think fall: pants, instead of a skirt, and a long, cozy sweater, instead of a jacket.  (I'm not willing to put on tights or a jacket until October, no matter what.)  The experiment turned out fairly well, I'm pleased to report.  Its exactly what I like about fall -- cozy without being bulky.  Chilly without being cold.  If I had some chili to eat and some apple cider to drink, it would be the perfect boom, boom, pow into fall for me.

Locker Room.

Last week's short Gym-hiatus had a few unexpected consequences. 

 

First, I've showered more in my own apartment over the last week than I have in the last six months combined.  Between the fact that I try to work out in the mornings 6 days a week (although Saturday always depends on how good or bad my decisions are on Friday night) and that the Gym has a much nicer shower, I usually only shower in my own shower once a week at best.  And, when I say that the Gym has a much nicer shower, I'm not kidding.  Deluge shower with four heads above, four on the walls, you can set the temperature specifically, set the lights to a specific color or ambience (sunrise, sunset, etc), and set a water massage pattern if you wish.  Its really wonderful.  Plus, there is the sauna, steam room and much nicer (and never-ending) lotion than I have at my house.  I have not purchased shampoo in over a year.

 

Second, because of the above, I am accustomed to getting ready with a bunch of friends around me.  Its nice to have a second opinion on whether your experimental outfit works or if you should add a belt or, importantly, someone who will finish zipping that last bit of the zipper without having to wrench your shoulder to do it if you were home alone.  And, these being my friends, we rarely leave the locker room without having complimented each other on something.  Its a nice way to start the day.

 

I apparently have re-set my motivation and have been back at the Gym since Sunday.  Back to the super-duper shower.  Unfortunately, it seems that most of my friends are out of town or busy and I have been getting ready alone -- or, worse, with women who I don't know and it doesn't have that nice comraderie.  I am suffering from Trump-girls deprivation apparently.

Versus

Bed versus Gym. Sleep versus exercise. I like both and generally find a balance. But lately -- and uncharacteristically -- Bed and sleep have been winning the battle. I even made a deal with myself that because I didn't work out for the past couple days due to work that I would get up and work out this morning. I'm awake early but eyes are burning. I suspect that I will break my deal. Maybe I'm just pressing the reset button on my motivation.

To Tweet.

Long story: Heather convinced me. She appealed to my sense of duty to my friends and obligation to help fix her boredom, and mine. And, apparently, its simple enough. I haven't figured out the tinyurl business or how to post a tweetpic but I also haven't tried. I have confidence that as a child of the computer age, I can figure this out.

Short story: follow me on twitter! http://twitter.com/lpelanek

These Kids These Days.

I recently celebrated my fifth year working at the same firm. Five years of practice, although my fifth year of being a real attorney does not ocurr until November 4, 2009. Election Day. Also, the day I can elect to be a member of roughly half of the bars of the United States without taking the bar again. But I digress, I have come to realize that the last five years have resulted in a changed me. I always thought I was super type-A until I started work. Compared to a lot of people with whom I work, I am super laid back and chill. Compared to your average person, I'm still impatient and intolerant of stupidity, type-A.

Despite realizing this change, it does not change the fact that these kids these days are a different breed than just five years ago. Despite the economy, these kids act as though they are too good to do the grunt work that is required. What one person calls document review, someone slightly senior calls deposition preparation, what someone more senior calls trial preparation. You simply cannot avoid it and be a lawyer. And yet, some kids think that its enough to make a token effort and then they are entitled to the reward at the end -- a field trip to meet the witness.

One kid in particular bugs me tonight. He continually implies that I am deliberately excluding him from information and not doing my job. In fact, the opposite is true: I am doing his job in addition to mine. I was sitting at Theory with Missy when his latest email insinuating that I failed him hit my blackberry. Thankfully, I deleted his emails after responding with third party (Missy) approval. But by the time I got home, I really wanted to send him a snotty email. I am taking her advice and going with a face-to-face convo tomorrow. I guess this blog is the best I can do to get my frustration and anger out of my system. But, man!

Nuptially speaking.

Yesterday, I went to a full Catholic mass wedding. I was a stranger in a strange land. Despite the fact that I was baptised, First Communed Catholic and I'm told I attended years of Sunday school, I have managed to forget everything I ever learned. To this day, every Easter I have to ask my mom why people are mad at Pontus Pilot because I just can't remember. And, I assume that is a function of me just not caring that much. I'm not a religious girl. As one of my friends explained, he was a CEO (Christmas and Easter Only) but otherwise a bedside baptist. I think that may be what I say going forward -- its easier than getting the many questions about really? You don't ever go to services? Nope, I don't. I don't know the proper way to cross yourself, what the refrains are, or what the hand-shaking phrase is. (I learned yesterday its
"peace be with you" but I suspect I will forget that in no time.)

Despite the fact that I don't get it, I always find such ceremonies educational. In addition to learning the handshake thing, I learned that adolation of the virgin continues and that Catholics aren't very arthritis-friendly. I also reminded myself that if I ever get married, I am having a destination wedding at most.

The wedding -- at St. Alphonsus in Chicago -- and the reception -- Harold Washington Library -- were lovely. (Another educational bit from yesterday was learning that the Library stop on the El is actually the Harold Washington Library, a beautiful public library at State and Van Buren.) I was the only single person at my table, another reason to love weddings. Thankfully, the alcohol flowed freely and the band was pretty good and danceable. Also, a photobooth was provided. I love photobooth pictues. And, this time, my friend and I came up with a plan for our four pictures, depicting our cheers to red wine, to champagne and sadness at empty glasses.

Dinner and a Show.

Tonight I was a seat-filler at a dinner for a professional organization. Normally, I hate these things. But, two things made me excited for the dinner: (1) the professional organization are my potential clients and/or employers; and, (2) the speakers were Judge Ann Williams and Mary Matalin/James Carville.

Judge Williams was being honored with the Thurgood Marshall Award. Her acceptance speech was so good it made me want to be her clerk, or manicurist or dog walker just to be someone who gets to spend time with her. She seems like an incredible woman AND has an incredible sense of style.

The Matalin-Carville show is what you'd expect and I enjoyed it, even though I've seen it before. They clearly have a schtick but it works for them -- its very endearing. I'm more familiar with Carville than Matalin. I was fascinated by how for such a small framed woman, Matalin's hands were gigantic. I was equally fascinated by their perspective, to be fair to myself.

I actually walked away from the dreaded work event feeling lucky to have been invited. Stranger things have happened.

Homecoming.

"I'm comin home again." I know that Kanye is not the most popular man these days, except in the poll for biggest jackass. Nonetheless, I still like his music and Homecoming is a good song. I came home today after a quick trip to New York. I got done earlier than anticipated so tried to get an ealier flight but nothing -- everything was sold out. And, I had a middle seat on my late flight. Again. But, because everyone in Economy Plus was premier or better, they gave us all a free glass of wine in a plastic cup. Classy. But I digress. I love flying in to Chicago at night to see the building lit up. Missy and I met at Theory for dinner, prosecco and stories. At it turns out, both of us had days yesterday. Theory is like our Cheers. Except that not everyone knows our name . . . yet. They will once we get our plaque. But Theory is just so comfortable. Being there, having a glass of prosecco and debriefing is becoming my homecoming tradition. If you count a tradition as twice.

Going to Extremes.

"There was a little girl,

Who had a little curl,

Right in the middle of her forehead.

When she was good,

She was very good indeed,

But when she was bad she was horrid."

I've always like that little ditty from Longfellow for a couple reasons. First, and foremost, it reminds me of my grandfather. He used to quote it to me when I was being a brat. (He also used to chase me around with a salt shaker to put salt on my lip when I was pouting. Not one to tolerate children misbehaving without some direct commentary, my grandfather. On the other hand, he was a really good foot-warmer and toast-butterer, among many other things that are important to a little kid. He was a loveable curmudgeon in my opinion.)

Second, it generally applies to my days. For the most part my days vary somewhere between unremarkable and awesome. But when they are bad, they are horrid. Today fell into that latter category, although with a work-travel specific focus.

This morning, I was in Chicago and circulated a draft of exactly what was requested to a senior partner who will be supervising me interview a director tomorrow. I got back a reply-all directing another partner to revise my work. The partner who was told to revise called me and essentially told me "good luck in NY" because senior partner is clearly in a mood.

Then, I went down to meet my car to the airport. (Yes, I know that sounds snobby but its better than cabs because I don't have to front the cash and wait to be reimbursed and the firm supports that.) But, my car was not there. My secretary called the car service and eventually the guy showed up. He was apparently across the street at the Trump and got out of the car yelling at me that he "was right there" and why did I call on him? After telling him to stop yelling at me, we got in the car. But, he immediately starts texting while he's driving, going about 20 down Wacker, clearly not paying attention. I had to tell him to stop texting, start paying attention and drive. Not a good sign. Nonetheless, I got to the airport safely and the ride was free (because my secretary called the car company again to report the yelling and the texting and they agreed that was unacceptable).

I had a middle seat on my flight to NY, not desirable. Even less desirable? My seatmate to my right who came on with a bag of McDonald's and once finished eating, immediately put a dip in. I really think dipping is disgusting and the smell of the tobacco can is overpowering to me. The lesser of the two evils was my seatmate to the left who just spent the entire time laughing out loud at her text messages.

But, things are looking up, I hope. I made it to NY safe and sound. I even made it safely to my hotel, despite a harrowing cab ride with a driver who seemed disregard lane lines, the rules of traffic -- and physics. Maybe this bodes well for tomorrow despite the rocky start to today.

Anniversary.

Tomorrow is the one year anniversary of the Lehman Brothers' bankruptcy. I was hanging out with my friend Gym tonight and saw that CNBC is calling it "ONE YEAR: The Week that Shook the World." A tad melodramatic, no? To be fair, it was a helluva week in the financial world one year ago that marked the public recognition of the recession: there was the bailout of Freddie Mac and Fannie Mae, the failure of Lehman Brothers, the bailout of AIG, and Goldman Sachs and Morgan Stanley became bank holding companies. And, the economy's swan dive was complete.

I remember the week in relative clarity. I was in Colorado for my mom's birthday on September 12th. It was also the day that the case that I had been on for three years settled. My dad and I spent a good part of the weekend checking marketwatch.com to see if Lehman was going to get a deal done with Bank of America or Barclays. The odd thing is, I have an awful memory. I can't remember my childhood, high school is just a few distinct memories, and even college is starting to blur. That I would remember a specific weekend from a year ago is remarkable.

Of course, it may help that I've spent the last seven months investigating why Lehman went bankrupt. I have a chronology of the week of September 8-15, 2008 at the front of my mind these days. To celebrate the one year anniversary, I am going to New York to do an interview for the investigation.

To Tweet Or Not To Tweet.

I have never quite understood Twitter. At least as applied to me. Much like Wikipedia, if I somehow get linked to a twitter feed, I can waste a lot of time reading the various updates. Yet, I just don't think I'm that interesting. I fear I'd be like the Verizon commerical, tweeting that I was sitting on the couch. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WSAShLjEYOM)

But, my friends -- who are obviously biased -- told me that they really thought I should get on twitter. And, more importantly, they said they'd help me so that the word tinyurl meant something to me.

So the question is, to tweet or not to tweet? I don't cook for myself because I don't think I'm worth the effort. I tend to think I'm not worth the 140 characters either but we shall see.

Give and Get.

This Saturday was a charitable day for me. I started the morning at the inaugural CureSearch walk, which raised money to support research for a cure for pediatric cancer. I've actually never done a walk before, even though so many charities do them. You name a charity, and they have a walk in the Chicago area. Including the Arthritis Foundation, which I always think is just mean given my personal experience with arthritis. Depending on the day, walking can be pretty high up on the "Last things I want to do" list.

But, of course, its not mean, its a nice way to raise money for a cause or in honor of someone suffering from whatever affliction. However, the concept of a walk reminds me of back in middle school when you'd raise money by getting people to sponsor you per lap on a track. But a walk really isn't much of a challenge physically for most people of any basic fitness level. Prior to Saturday, I always thought you might as well just donate the money and skip the walk part. I have to say though, there is something about being there. The opening ceremony might be too long, the DJ might be so awful you're actually embarassed for him, and people might walk too slowly but when you have a balloon release representing the children lost to cancer with the accompanying, "I will remember you" being sung, it makes for a worthwhile morning. Actually makes me tear up to think about and I have been fortunate enough not to know any child suffering with cancer. (I have lost a grandfather to it though.)

After the walk, my charity took a break for football. The Michigan-Notre Dame was an instant classic. As an added bonus, Theory had the Texas game available too. I had to do a little colorful commentary on my Hook 'Ems play in the first half but they must have heard me at the half, because they picked things up in the second half and cruised to a comfortable 41-10 win. Not nearly as exciting as Mich-ND which went long and helped me be slightly late to my fundraiser. Man, I love college football.

The Arthritis Foundation Associate Board had its annual Shindig Saturday evening. Normally, its on the fancier side, but this time it was at Zella's, which is not one of my favorite places but is outstanding in how it works with charities. It was a fun event, and really well-attended. My great group of friends all came out, bought raffle tickets, and even were willing to use their own connections to help promote an upcoming Arthritis event. Keeping with an apparent tradition, once again, one of my friends was a winner of the most sought after raffle packages. Being charitable comes back to you, they say, although I don't think they often mean by winning a night at the Ritz.

The Element of Fun.

"In every job that must be done, there is an element of fun. You find the fun, and - SNAP - the job's a game." Mary Poppins said that. (I love that movie. My brother and I watched it and Annie probably 20 times each when we were kids.) And, I actually do believe it. Everything is a matter of perspective. Admittedly, sometimes its harder than others to find that perspective of fun. Nonetheless, this quote and the importance of perspective are the reasons that I will do almost anything if it has the potential to be a good story later. And, you never know what will turn into a good story.

My point: to try to break out of the malaise, I'm trying to find that element of fun again. Today's game was trying to insert myself into a trip to London. As I told the partner, I have my passport in hand these days so I'm ready to go at any moment. I really don't have any claim to the trip other than a day's worth of work today. And, it was a transparent move. Nonetheless, the partner played along. I won't get to go, but it never hurts to ask. Keeps it fun to have the hope of a fun work trip. I've been trying to wrangle another Asian trip as well. Like I said earlier, I don't go bad places for work.

I think this business travel game is hereditary. My dad used to travel a decent amount for work and you've never seen a guy work a frequent flyer program like my dad. It was fun for him to make the worst travel plans possible to get the most segments. Of course, this was prior to the changes in the programs that make them less valuable.

These Kids These Days.

I'm a fan of at least two reality shows: So You Think You Can Dance ("SYTYCD" or "SYT") and America's Best Dance Crew ("ABDC"). There is overlap between the participants on the two shows and they are a different format and audience. Nonetheless, the common factor is that some of these people are just incredible dancers.

I spent part of today catching up on the entire season of ABDC. The show features crews, or dance groups. This season, among others, there is an all-girl group that are known for popping (not like my knees do), a bunch of boy breakers from Seattle (my favs), a co-ed latin-dance crew, and an openly, and perhaps aggressively, gay group that are voguers. The last episode was the annual "dance craze challenge." The groups are given a current dance craze and have to incorporate it into their style and choreography while still being creative and innovative in their own style. Always fun.

This time, the episode only made me realize how out of touch with the youth I am. Of the five songs, I had only heard of one ("You're a Jerk"). And, I didn't realize that there was a dance to go with any of them. I had never heard of the surf swag, the jerk, the stanky leg, the Ricky-Bobby, or the Halle Berry (song name the same as the dance name). So much for my backup career making mix CDs for Now That's What I Call Music. Turn 30, become out of touch with the kids.

Sigh.

Evaluating.

I spent a significant portion of today doing evaluations -- my own so that others can evaluate me and those of junior associates. I hate doing them so they take me forever. I've spent at least five hours on it. Filling out my skills chart. Planning my my career development and/or writing my own reasons to be fired for failing to fulfill it, regardless of lack of opportunity. I hate the whole process for many reasons, in case its not obvious. For one trivial reason, it reinforces just how bad my memory is. I can never remember what I spent the last year doing. I always have to look it up in my submitted time to job my memory. Sad to know that the memory -- the first to go -- is already going. I barely remember high school at this point and college is starting to blur.

As part of my evaluations, I've done a little personal reflection. First, short term reflection on the weekend: Saturday was super, starting with spin and yoga and continuing with Football Day where my Hook 'Ems did me proud on opening weekend. Today was tv-filled, between catching up on my DVR, watching Weeds via Netflix and some really awful B movies. Second, medium term reflection: Its been about a month since I first acknowledged my malaise and a little more than two weeks since my kneecaps were diagnosed. On the plus side, my not-cute braces are helping; the popping is getting better and the pain is easing up. On the minus side, the malaise still lingers but things are getting busier at work so I have less time to wallow. Despite the malaise, I've been busy enough that I can't believe how time flies. Its September and summer is meteorologically over. Anyone in Chicago will tell you that we didn't really have a summer at all. And, I haven't had any time off since 2006.

Conclusions:

1) reviewing people, including yourself, is no fun;

2) its probably a bad sign when you've seen at least part of Mega Shark vs. Giant Octopus twice and can't turn the channel; and,

3) I need a vacation somewhere warm, tropical, and where they will bring me drinks . . . although after Mega Shark, I'm not sure I'll be going in the water.

ID(entity) Crisis.

I've lived in my apartment for over five years. I've walked or driven by one particular corner hundreds of times. It isn't one of my normal routes to work, but road construction caused me to take it this morning. I noted as I drove by that there was a CPD paddy wagon parked on the street in front of Dunkin Donuts. I turned right. On red. Apparently, illegally. I've never noticed any signs though, not once in five years.

The paddy wagon pulled me over. It took them over 15 minutes to write the ticket. When the officer returned to hand me my ticket, he did not hand me my license back. Chicago's crafty way of ensuring that people pay their tickets is by keeping their license until they get their money. Any other day, I would have gone with the officer to post bond and keep my license. But, of course, today I had to be in court. Better to give up your license than be late for a judge. So now, I have to mail payment and wait for them to mail my license back.

I'm not optimistic for a speedy return of my license between the lack of speed in the clerk's office and the Chicago post office, renowned for its slowness. For the next week weeks, I guess I will be a domestic woman of mystery, using my passport as identification. So long as I can get on a plane and get a drink, who needs a driver's license? Not this girl.

I <3 NY?

I love business travel.  In part, this is because I generally do not have to go bad places for work.  Lately, I've been going back and forth to NYC a lot but my past cases have taken me to Boston, Atlanta, San Fran, and Singapore.  The only place I've been on work that I didn't enjoy was Mankato, MN and that was because of the speed traps that lay between Minneapolis and Mankato -- almost as many as the number of Dairy Queens.  Hot Eats, Cool Treats and lots of cops.

 

However, this week I'm in NYC on a trip that I was looking forward to returning home from before I even left.  I knew it would be a stressful one.  So far, its a four snip rating.  (As opposed to stars, and unlike stars where the more the better, a snip is the number of snippy emails I receive from the partner regarding issues related to the trip.)  That, and, while I love business travel, I usually try to mix a little fun and/or friends in.  Lately, though my timing has been awful.  Who would have thought that in a city of over 8 million people, I cannot somehow manage to meet up with any of my friends for a meal or drink?  Just my luck. 

 

I return home tomorrow evening, to the warm embrace of my booth at my regular bar with the girls for a bit of bubbly and some stories.  NYCan't wait.

1994.

For some reason unknown to me, I did not have internet access at my
apartment this weekend. It was like it was 15 years ago before I
googled and emailed as reflexively as I breathe. Actually, it was
worse than 1994 as the technology of the day -- dial-up -- is not an
option when you do not have a land line. I never realized just how
often I have the desire to google something or how much I like getting
sucked in by Wikipedia. And, worse, I'm woefully behind on my pop
culture updates. I did have my trusty blackberry but its just not the
same. I am actually looking forward to going to work tomorrow morning
so I can get my internet fix (and make a binder) before heading to the
airport.

Commandment.

The fifth commandment is "Honor your. . . mother." (I had to look that up. And, yes, I know it says honor your father too -- and I do! -- but it doesn't help my story. I probably could only guess 60-70% of the commandments and definitely do not know their order. Years of Sunday school for naught.)

Mama said cash the check and buy lottery tickets. I take direction well: check cashed, lottery tickets purchased! Add to that the fifth commandment and I think this all adds up to the potential of divine intervention. A similar point was made to me by a friend of mine whose last name is, in fact, Devine. Coincidence? I hope not.

I'm prepared to become a MegaMillionaire tonight and share the wealth with my honorable mother (and father)!

Let Me Count The Ways.

My mom sent me one of the best cards I've received in a long time. She told me that she owed me some money and was going to mail it. It was only a small amount so I told her not to bother, that she could buy me dinner or something next time I saw her. But she was adamant. Best card because:

1) It was a funny card. It read: "Everything is fine, all I have to do is win the lottery." Funny because its true. I really do consider the lottery my retirement plan and I keep on applying for the open Next Megamillionaire position. Can't win if you don't play;

2) Her note directed me to cash the check and use it to buy lottery tickets. MegaMillions is over $300 million for tomorrow's drawing. Mama knows best. I'm buying lottery tickets tomorrow; and,

3) She included a little blast from my past. A newspaper article with a picture of my 13 year-old self at swim practice. Synchronized swimming practice.

Marketwatch.

I'm in a personal recession. That's what I like to call it when I am in a rut and just feel "eh" about everything. Sometimes, its everything. Sometimes its social and I just want to hermit in my apartment. In this case, my recession is limited to work only. My work life is primarily just one case and I feel like I am doing the same thing over and over again. Its not a depression, thankfully. And, even more importantly, I'm not at all depressed (see e.g., all other posts about fun stuff). With a recession, I just hope for a quick market correction and be done with it. Although given the actual market and economy, I am thankful to have a job and hope that my personal recession does not last as long as the actual one.

For the past two weeks, I've been commiserating at lunch with a friend, and former co-worker, with whom I've been eating lunch with five years now. We both are suffering from the same repeating career thoughts. Today, we went to lunch with our favorite recruiter, who actually placed him in his current job. I was hoping for some good news about the state of the market and how people are starting to hire again in my field. I did not get it. I did hear some interesting news that makes me want to stay tuned though. We will see how long this bit of interest keeps me engaged but its better than nothing.

Glam!

Macy's Glamorama was last night. Its where "fashion and music come together." Six designers showcased their fall lines (not fashion week because that would be Spring clothes. However, Friday's high was about 70 so fall clothing was perfectly appropriate.) One of my friends is essentially in charge of it. Missy Piggy was part of the talent along with Ne-Yo. They both had their pictures taken with the Pig. For those who don't know, Ne-Yo, while a very talented songwriter and singer, is a pocket person.

The show was super-fun. The after-party even more so. What's not to love about bars everywhere, various themed snack-stations , and dancing? Okay, the not-to-love is annoying photographers who somehow got media passes but are acknowledged to be nuts by those who know. Overall, a great time.

This morning I met a few friends at a near-by farmers' market. I left with the most unusual sunburn I've ever had. Thankfully, it will not show in any of my work clothes. I also went to pick up my order from the sparkling wine tasting. Would you believe that despite my lasting love for prosecco and all things bubbly, I did not own a single flute? I remedied that situation and immediately put a bottle or two in to chill . . . and drink. Prosecco plus True Blood dvds (no HBO here) = a lovely afternoon/evening. Maybe a tad pathetic but not at all un-enjoyed.

D is for Disappointed.

Today was D-Day. As I mentioned yesterday, I named it such because it was doctor day. Now that D-Day is gone, I know that the D actually stands for disappointed, not doctor.

The day started well, or at least per plan. All week, I've been walking a fine line between demonstrating how bad my knees are and not being in the worst pain of my life. The plan worked out pretty well, especially thanks to the thunderstorm awakening. Prior to seeing the doctor, I got my peds cured as I didn't want the doctor to have to suffer my deteriorated pedicure. It was the fastest pedicure of my life. I suspect that the quality is not so high.

After navigating the under-construction parking lot, hectic building and initial x-rays, I finally was brought to the exam room. After demonstrating my knee pop roughly 20 times per knee to a med student, a resident, a fellow and two doctors, it was determined that I have unusually loose kneecaps. They are the culprits, not a ligament or tendon as I thought. And, now, I get to wear some oh-so-attractive knee braces for at least a month to see if that will help. At best it looks like I'm wearing leggings, at worst, knee pads. In fact, I had a woman ask me if they were making me do a lot of work on my knees. I'm sure she meant that in the best way possible. Failing the success of the braces, its a rather painful sounding surgery (involving cutting my shin bone) to re-align my knee caps.

On the plus side, I got to drown my disappointment at a sparkling wine tasting with the girls. We tasted prosecco, cava, some Tasmanian sparkling, an Austrian, a French and finished with rose. As it turns out, my heart and liver still belongs to prosecco.

Baby Steps.

I got a text last night from my landlord that informed me that they had poured concrete for the sidewalk in front of my door during the break in rain this week. He also mentioned that he hoped I wasn't wearing heels when I got hme . . . but it would probably be okay to walk on either way. I was wearing flippers so all was fine. Its amazing what a difference a sidewalk makes.

AND, the ability to park in a garage agagin. (Yes, I could take public transportation and for the first 4.5 years that I lived in Chicago, I did. I (a) thought the train was fun (still do despite the occasional overcrowding, questionable hygiene, and other less savory aspects of the El) and (b) felt like I had something to prove about living in a city with great public transportation to lessen my yuppie guilt. Despite the strength of (a) and (b), the reality of having rheumatoid arthritis and its resulting jerky, painful knees means that walking up and down the stairs to the El is sometimes mentally overwhelming and as a member of the Trump gym, I can park in its oh-so-convenient, across-the-street parking garage for roughly $6 per day -- OR, $1.50 more than taking the train both ways. Done and done.

Speaking of jerky knees, I haven't been in this much consistent pain since I was first diagnosed but not yet on medicated some four years ago. It simply cannot be all that modern medicine has to offer that both of my knees pop if fully straightened. Cute at first, really painful after awhile, especially walking down stairs. As a result, I recently decided enough was enough and made an appointment with a surgeon. And, tomorrow is Doctor Day (D-Day). I'm so excited. I hope my own personal D-Day results in an invasion of the work coast, that is to say, short term medical leave while I get surgered.

Specialty.

I recently read that Mastering the Art of French Cooking is enjoying a resurgence in popularity thanks to Julie & Julia. I haven't seen the movie yet -- although, I did read the book and Julia's My Life in Paris --nor have I mastered the art of French cooking.

Instead, I have mastered the art of single cooking. Which is to say that I don't. Its not that I can't cook. Anyone who can read can cook. (Mind you, I don't think that anyone who can cook can be a chef. That's taking it beyond the written recipe into the world of art and imagination.) I just don't think that I am worth the time and effort it takes to cook, from the ingredient purchasing to the pot cleaning afterwards. Its possible I would feel differently if I liked leftovers, but I don't like them at all. Not even leftover pizza.

Despite this, I do have four dishes I can make consistently well: peanut butter cookies, banana bread, rice krispie treats, and angel food cake. (Yes, all baking. Baking is better when you're single -- its much easier to leave some cookies in someone's office than it is to leave a chicken breast.) Sadly, only the latter takes any kind of skill at all to make. Despite their simplicity, the krispie treats tend to be a crowd-pleaser. I think the special ingredient is love -- I love to make them with their marshmellow gooey goodness.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MWZXoGZijH4#watch-main-area

Covering the Bases.

Today was the day that I was to attend a baseball game without box seats. And, as it turns out, I can still enjoy a game anyway without the endless drinks, snacks and a dessert cart. The key is the company, as with most things. The party had two sets of tickets and I was sitting with two pf my friends, in a the set apart from the bride and bachelorette doings. Today's game was the first portion of the bachelorette party for one of my former co-workers. She is a huge Cubs fan so it was a fitting start. (I couldn't attend the remainder of the day/evening which continued the baseball theme with dinner and four bar stops at which she'd have to round the bases via shots: Irish kiss, buttery nipple, blow job and sex-on-the-beach. Very cute idea in my opinion.)

I'm not a baseball fan. I would rather watch almost any other sport than baseball. It is just too slow for me. However, what I enjoy most about attending a baseball game -- outside of the near-requirement to day-drink -- is that it is the only place that I eat hot dogs. They are too bad for you to eat without a really good reason. And, the reason is that they never taste better than in a ballpark on a sunny day.

One of the stereotypes about Cubs fans is that they don't pay attention to the game. In my very non-scientific opinion from attending a grand total of two games, this stereotype is for a reason. I think that my friend and I paid more attention than the average Cubs fan, in no small part because we were concerned we were going to be brained by all of the foul balls coming our way. Add to the general lack of attention -- I mean, it really is a nice atmosphere to sit, talk and drink -- that today was the first day of the Air and Water Show, and I'm pretty sure that almost no one was watching the game. Guys standing in grass just cannot compete with F-16s doing fly-bys.

Between the Air and Water Show, Cubs game and just generally nice weather, the city was a zoo today. Thankfully, my evening plans were quiet. My friend's parents were in town and homecooked us all (a total of 8) dinner. It was tasty and a delightful evening.

Good Enough for Government Work.

Some months ago, there was a problem with the water in my building that required the city to dig under part of the sidewalk to reach the water main (or something). The sidewalk remained broken around that area -- covered in sand -- until recently. The rest of the sidewalk around my building was no prize either. In fact, I'd say it was an outright liability and accident waiting to happen.

Apparently, the city agreed with me. In July, they posted signs restricting parking, including access to the garage in which I have a space, for two weeks. During that period, nothing happened -- except me getting two parking tickets as I don't have a permit to park in my own neighborhood (because I don't park on the street). Needless to say, I was not pleased.

In early August, the city re-posted signs restricting parking once again, but this time for three weeks. But this time, they did something -- they completely tore out the sidewalks on Monday surrounding my building and garage. I am now actually even less pleased. For the entire week, there has been no path to enter my apartment that did not involve unstable dirt and rocks. On Wednesday morning, I stepped out my front door, down the much longer step to the ground (amazing what a difference a sidewalk makes in terms of height), and immediately twisted my ankle, falling onto the dirt and rocks. Not an auspicious start to the day. It made me mad enough that I actually wrote my alder(wo)man. Perhaps unsurprisingly, I have not received any response, not even an acknowledgement, of my complaint. Which, was nicely phrased, I promise.

As of tonight, concrete has been poured in front of the garage but we are not allowed to drive on it for the three days. (Not helpful, especially as this weekend is Air and Water Show weekend which means that my neighborhood will be overrun and street parking will be nearly impossible. Guess who isn't driving this weekend as I did manage to find a spot tonight?) And, I still have to take one giant leap for mankind to get out the door.

Good enough for government work, right? Baby steps.