A helluva town....

Random collections of observations seem to be the only thing that holds my interest these days. That, and browsing craigslist looking for used lawnmowers and free rocks and brick.

Chicago is way too far north to have Cicadas. But luckily, they have poor taste and stayed in the suburbs.

Speaking of taste, whipped cauliflower. YUM! I also liked the garlic and Parmesan crusted salmon and the Parmesan baked scallops. Course, there might be a universal truth here... everything is better not only with cheese, but with garlic.

It is hard enough being a radical humanist with a progressive heart whilst living in Texas, but a friend of mine just told me that he lives in a place where there's no Whole Foods. God, hear me now: I will never live in Alabama.

Kittens are not cute at 4:30 a.m. no matter what you think the rest of the day.

There is absolutely no end to the crap - literally - that a black lab will eat. Mine seems to be starving.
Yesterday, the vet called. The vet he saw late last week. The vet he had to stay with because he'd been throwing up for three days and he refused a meal on Thursday morning. As I was on my way to Chicago.
Now this is a dog who has never missed a meal in his LIFE. I run him. I restrict his dog-food intake. But his whole life revolves around searching out and destroying anything digestible.
Yesterday, when she called, Tyler was working very hard at his job, which is holding down the floor of my office. Apparently the floor had recently threatened to fly away, because he was as spread out as if he were laying on a bed between two full-grown humans. We all know how dogs can get bigger when they're between you on the bed.
Anyway, I told her that he was back to his normal diet: Stale Chips, Macaroon Cookies and cat turds. To which she remarked: "Ah, a well-rounded meal."
He's learned to knock down the baby gate so he can go downstairs while we're out of the office to rummage our garbage. He also ate a 1/2 pound of good Lindt chocolate (complete with the wrappers), a 1/2 pound of cat food, and some leftover, wilting Cobb salad.
She was curious, the vet, about the salad. So I had to explain that Tyler the wonder dog has always picked his own produce -- esp. the pears that grow on my fruit trees. And that he also really likes to pick nearly orange tomatoes. He'll eat jalapenos right off the bush, too. And I've never seen an eggplant ripen to maturity.
Tyler is especially fond of garbage, but he also really likes broccoli and carrots, snap peas, pear and apple cores and grapes. I've heard you're not supposed to feed them grapes, but he can eat a whole loaf of bread including the wrapper and a corn cob and a half-rack of ribs and not get sick.... So, well..... the vet is glad he's doing better. And I'm sure she's glad I'm $350 poorer as well.

It was hot in Chicago and I'm not a fan of the smell of city neighborhoods when it's above 90 degrees. But on the other hand, I like the diversity, the ease of bi-ped commuting and the flavor of the cuisine. Boys' Town was a hoot and I have to say, I just wish I looked half as good as those men in my lacy lingerie.

If you want to find out who in your employ has the moxie to really excel, ask them all to sign a non-compete agreement. Anyone who refuses you promote. Everyone else, you ignore until they stop producing or go away.

It has been way too long since I saw any of the Monty Python movies and after seeing Spamalot last night, and laughing continuously for hours, I am thinking it should rain this weekend.... and I should go rent some movies.
Spamalot was well sung, well acted and the sets were amazing. Of course, the librettist had a lot to work with. But I liked the melodies and I enjoyed myself. It was worth the ticket price, too. And, since I now work a 1/4 mile from Fair Park Music Hall, I was delighted by the convenience.

One of my coworkers described being at a corporate meeting as "being on a treadmill." The problem with my bosses is that they never consider that you might want some alone time and they never calculate in any time to WORK. So at the end of day two you are exhausted and by the time you fly home (or go to visit friends) on day three, you're really comatose. It took us almost two hours to get back to the city from West fucking somewhere... but then we did get lost looking for gas in Hastings.. or was it Hasty Puddingville... who knows. Gorgeous houses, all worth over 1 Million. And lots of pretentious cars. But not one single gas station along the highway. The point is, though, that once I got to Chris and Britni's apartment I really just wanted to take off my clothes, sleep, read the Internet, play with their cats and not think.
In fairness, we did go out after the rains. We bought books, wandered and generally amused ourselves until dinner. We ate Mexican. And I have to say that even though I live in the Mexican center of a Texas city... the chips were better in Chicago.