chicagodads

I found out why I can’t stay awake long enough to do a blog post anymore (well, without falling asleep several times, or pumping my body full of sugar and/or caffeine). But I’ll let my Facebook status updates tell the story.

JD Status: Going to the doctor’s soon for bloodwork results. Hopefully, she’ll tell me I have an unusually high midi-chlorian count.

RR: higher than Master Yoda’s? If so, you might be a sith

JD: Awesome!

RR:

JD: i mean, “Oh no, that’ll never happen!”

mu-haha-ha!

JD Status : Bloddwork results: Thyroid levels are off the chart. Simply, body’s constantly tired and sending signals to brain to pump stimulants. Even simpler: I am _biologically_ lazy.

MF: So what did your doc tell you to do about it?

JD:  she said i need friends and fam round-the-clock to feed me breakfast in bed.

no, she gave me a prescription at this point for about 1/2 dose. hopefully, i can get some more exercise if i don’t feel as weighed down in the mornings.

JD Status: Bloodwork results: Thyroid levels are off the chart. Simply, body’s constantly tired and sending signals to brain to pump stimulants. Even simpler: I am _biologically_ lazy.

JD: Saying “Bloddwork” makes me feel like a vampire, like Count Chocula or Edward or something…
Blaeh!

NWS: Hope they get you some good meds for that! If not, I vote for the count chocula persona.

JD: Not the Twilight guy?
got a prescription. just what i’ve always wanted, legal steroids. now i can get an even bigger head…

NWS: I have to admit I was thinking of your wife when I suggested count chocula - I mean who wouldn’t want to be married to a sweet guy who makes a living as a cereal box model? While Edward is dangerous and sexy, I’m not sure the situation is ideal. Glad you got some meds!!!

JD: she might try to eat me…

NWS: so long as you don’t try to eat her.

JD: I may vant to suck her blood.
Bleah!

CJK: Not diabetic, then? I’m glad you got results & meds. Hope it helps! (Maybe that’s what’s wrong with me!)

JD: common symptoms to watch for, CJ:
fatigue, muscle spasms (which i don’t have. guess i don’t have the muscles anymore…), constipation (also don’t have), dry skin, weight gain, slow heart rate, sensitivity to cold (that may just be the looong winter getting on my nerves though), or dry brittle hair that tends to fall out easily (not yet).

i wouldn’t be too surprised if i did come up w/ diabetes. but thank God not yet.

So, that’s about it. Thyroid problems. I try to go to bed at 10 now, and yet I still have problems getting up at 6:30 (meaning I don’t get out of bed til a bit later. This morning I slept until 7:10).

And now? I’m going to bed.

Say it isn’t so…

A new skate park to be opened shortly near our house was noted for vandalism by some concerned local citizens.

With no disrespect, tagging happens. At least it’s not a gang issue. Nor is it private or even business property being hit up by graffitti artists.

Here’s some history of graffitti art in Chicago.

“Just Don’t ” by garryknight via Flickr

Chicago has been gearing up to host the Olympics for a bit now. Early next month, we are expected to be on our best behavior as the International Olympic Committee is staking out our city to see how prepared we are to smoothly take in all of these visitors and games.

So it begins.

Somehow, we’re expected to believe that the Olympics will bring in tons of revenue but not cost us anything in the long or short-run. The new Olympic Village being built out of the ashes of Reese Hospital will eventually be bought out by developers and sold as condos and taxpayers will get all of their credited money back (Of course, that was a ridiculous idea even before the housing bust, which has changed the way we plan for and pay for housing for the indefinite future).

And now monies are being diverted (as one would expect) to pay for repaving the area around Jefferson Park (the primary location of the projected games) while schools and hospitals are shutting down , there’s a long-standing (or, rather, not-standing) sinkhole (a bit unrelated, because it’s in Des Plaines, but sink holes are dangerous for our finest and our infrastructure) and the list goes on and on.

Yeah, it’s a big sinkhole. Here’s to hoping we never get the go-ahead from the IOC.

My wife’s parents picked up the babe on Thursday and were to drop her off on Sunday morning. The wife was to leave for a church leadership retreat on Friday evening and return late Saturday afternoon. I had to work a brief stint on Saturday morning. And Saturday was my birthday. So, you know what all of that led to, right? That’s right, a slew of unhealthy eating (not that I don’t eat unhealthily enough, but now all the gloves were off, so to say).

Jennie took me out on Thursday, officially beginning the weekend. I had wanted to go to nearby Hot Doug’s for a long time, but alas, they are closed by 4pm every day. However, since I had a clamoring for some American food (but not so-called comfort food like meat loaf & mac & cheese) for the last week, I opted to go to the delicious - and unfortunately unpopulated - Honey1 BBQ . Honey1 has been widely critically praised as being among the best barbeque in the city , certainly in the North Side. That night, we tried the pulled-pork. The sauce was - true to form - sweet and tangy and the meat was good. But not quite as delicious or delicate as the usual ribtips. My regret is that they may be underappreciated in a majority White and Latino neighborhood (with prices a hike up from similar, and busier, spots I’ve been to in the West Side).

On Friday, I decided to leave my work-study area and make the trek to Hot Doug’s . Since it was 2 o’clock by the time I got to the spot, I figured I missed the lunch rush. I may have, but the line was still out the door and around the block. Fridays and Saturdays, it turns out, the popular duck-fat french fries draws the rabid masses. And I could see why, after my hour + of waiting in line, the stuff was like coronary-lining crack. Oh, and the snappy taste of a Chicago-style hot dog. Oh, just one and my week-long thirst for the unmistakable yet unidentifiable was quenched. I saved most of the fries and the other dog for my wife (I foolishly thought I’d need more. I would, but not there) but I was so tempted to finish them off at home.

The wife wasn’t so thrilled with the idea of the place, though. But I did make at least one blogger-friend jealous.

Saturday evening was a retreat at home, away from people. Not a bad move for introverts.

Sunday evening was Dye family mainstay Borinquen. According to legend, the jibarito sandwich was birthed here after the proprietor read an article about a restaurant in Puerto Rico where they served sandwiches with smashed plaintains instead of bread. Smother the plaintains in butter and garlic, and slather lettuce, tomato, and cheese (basic American sliced, usually) over your meat of choice (my favorite has been the steak, but since that’s not been living up to expectation, the much juicier lechon - soft, roasted pork rolling off the sandwich - has been the go-to lately) and you’ve got yourself a sandwich ! Another critical favorite, this time shared with a small selection of fam and friends.

And, that was about it… The next day Jen & I shared ice cream cake with some friends from our church. I’m about a year now closer to a heart attack. And that’s the Chicago way to celebrate birthdays!

1) New Wave Cafe. It’s big for a brand new coffeeshop, first off. My wife and I were comparing it to two other coffee institutions (well, at least in this ChicagoDad’s world) Letizia’s Natural Bakery and Cafe (one of the first in Ukranian Village and my normal home away from home when I lived, worked and worshiped there) and Starbucks (previous to this opening, one of the only spots open for coffee - if you include Dunkin’ Donuts - in Logan Square). When I say that it’s big , I mean compared to, say Letizia’s which literally started as a take-out spot and then gradually upped itself until it used two spaces plus the outdoor cafe (in the spring to late fall) to accomodate its patrons there for the deelish natural baked yummies (fresh muffins were to die for! and totally worth the 2 bucks). Later, it morphed into a wine eatery, but, oh well. They still served Intelligentsia Coffee (some of our finest roast here in Chicago) and wonderful paninis, pizza blocks and cranberry cookies. But I think the difference in this regard is that Logan Square has long been ready for a cafe to act as a sort of cultural center. Add the new wave (read: 80s) kitsch , the not-too-loud music, the nice staff, the fine Metropolis roast (so much of a relief after Starbuck’s bitter roast. I’ve had two cups so far of their coffee and not once had the urge to spit it out), and the fact that there’s plenty of open space to chit-chat or work/study, I think this may be my new spot. Did I mention I had a blondie with bacon in it? WOW! Nice, huh? [Edit: So, apparently, some friends and readers informed me that 1) bacon is interspersed in various baked goods at New Wave and the menu changes constantly and 2) bacon in baked goods is become quite the vogue fashion - and therefore unfashionable - throughout Culinary World.]

The downside is that although it’s fairly close, it’s not that close.  It’s about a mile away, though if I need to, the bus and train are both kiddy-corner and a direct stop in front of my place.

2) The other spot we’ve been to recently (for a kind of neighborhood association mixer) is a nueva Mexicana BYOB called La Estrella Negra . As you can probably tell from its name (the Black Star ), it’s got kind of a quirky, dark theme - actually a Dia de la Muerte theme all over the place. The decor (including paintings displayed prominently not just on the walls but also the tabletops) is whimsically self-decorated by the multi-talented owner (who also plays in a band that sometimes performs there, apparently) and friends.

I thought the food was a bit pricey and the service a bit slow, but the La 25 tacos de pollo we ended up leaving with (we could only stay shortly as it was cutting into the baby’s sleep time) were quite delicious and featured - of course - bacon strips. Not sure that paying 10 bucks for three tacos is desirable (especially if you wait almost an hour for them), but I think the place has some promise as an ocassional spot. Especially if they find intriguing things to do with bacon.

Hey all. Sorry I haven’t been blogging recently. I like to think that we actually got some momentum going and then…  POOF! up I go.

But the truth is I got sick, the baby got sick, and my computer is down again. So regular blogging became less of a responsibility and sleep became more of a responsibility. I like sleep (and I think I need more and more of it), so I’m not going to disagree.

For the near future, I would love to do a series on schooling. In Chicago especially, we are inundated with questions - almost daily it seems - of whether we should send our kids to a local public school, magnet school, charter school, private school, or go out to the suburbs or home school. I see why one would prefer one option over another, but I sometimes wonder if we don’t closely investigate if one general option (say, suburban schools) is always better than an alternative option (say, city schools) when research and experience tells me that a) is never always better than b). And there’s a bunch of other questions that I’m just starting to wrestle with as a young parent. But that’s for a later time. I would love some feedback on that.

Shortly, however, I want to talk about a couple new spots I’ve had the opportunity to visit this last week in my own little neighborhood, and where bacon was a feature (at least in my experience).

Until then, I got some cleanin’ and daddyin’ to do.

I pray that you are enjoying your Valentines Day the way it was meant to be enjoyed - at a White Castle .

Apparently, it’s a regular, annual thing at some locations. Yes. Yumm.

If you made the reservations in time (and there may be time out in the West Coast - but I doubt that they have what you crave out there) you get a preferred table (complete with a candle and tablecloth) and a staff member to wait on you like at a real restaurant!

And, the slider is referred to as a Greeseball Royale…

7:40 am:

The little mama has been blocked up for almost two days now. Since she’s not eating bread  her fiber intake has reduced significantly. But because she has been insistent on at least one banana a day, well, like I said, she’s blocked up.

I gave her an orange this morning (rather than just juice, which has no pulp and therefore no fiber), and I’ll make some pancakes (not a lot of fiber. Maybe I can sneak some in somehow).

Makes me wish I had some wheat germ…

8:46

Finished breakfast. Still no sign of poo. Off to Jewels.

10:55

Just got back from Jewels (several miles, had to take public transportation). From what I could tell, no luck yet. The running consensus in the comments section is, I believe, to use dynamite. That may be an option. Time to strip the little mama.

11:20

Nada. Zip. Zero. On the plus side,  we’re eating cucumber. On the negative side, cucumbers are harder to peel than bananas.

12:26

I wish I had thought of prune juice. For lunch, we shared some oatmeal - but I don’t think I wanna wait three days for those oats to take their course. Although, come to think of it, it is called “Instant”…

2:16 pm

She hasn’t gone to sleep yet. She’s too busy making growling noises. If it weren’t so aggravating, it’d be really cute.

Too bad it’s so aggravating.

4:19

Still aggravated.

5:43

Rescued her about an hour ago. For not having a nap, she’s in a decent mood. But we’re kind of taking precautions.

I heard someone talking about how doctors don’t really know what a sickness is nor what caused it, but can only take educated guesses based on looking at the symptoms, patient history (past occurrences, related occurrences, events surrounding the malaise…) and then reactions to various treatments.

Gonna run and go get some prune juice soon (as well as bacon…).

8:44 pm

Jennie put the baby down earlier. We’ve had company over for the last two hours, so I haven’t asked nor observed that Joss went number 2, but I doubt it. Poor girl :(. We’ll see how it goes tomorrow.

February 15th

8:50 pm

Meant to update earlier, but was - umm… - held back. (Should I have put a caveat at the beginning of this post? Of the whole blog, actually?) She woke up from a relatively short but late nap before three and was walking really, really funny at first. By four, she was done making her first - and stinky - diaper. Really, like a normal day’s stool. Expected more. Got more a couple hours later.

She was really sensitive for a while there. (By the way, no prune juice. Just didn’t get around to finding any. But I’ve managed to get the fiber count back up, and will try to keep it coming.) I’m certainly more relieved. I know she is.

Shortly after I woke up yesterday my wife told me about an opportunity to meet up with a few of the other mothers and from our church and their little ones at the zoo.* The feisty weather reached a peak somewhere in the 60’s I believe. It was pretty windy, but miraculously, Jocelyn’s hair was pretty relaxed throughout. Wish mine was that cool and forgiving. I mean, after all, she uses my conditioner.

I like Lincoln Park Zoo. It’s been a while since I’ve gone, so everything seems so much smaller. Not that I’ve gotten taller - I don’t think - but it may have been a dozen years and a hundred pounds ago. There is much to remember and enjoy about our innumerable trips to the bayside and free zoo. It’s no San Diego Zoo nor even Brookfield Zoo, but it has its little cozy glories, such as the rental paddleboats. And, did I mention that it’s free. As in, absolutely free. And the fact that it’s fairly accessible by public transit. Personally, Joss and I got there in just a few minutes by taking the Armitage Avenue bus east for a few miles. This bus doesn’t run all night (although I believe and am happy to report that it seems that they’re finally extending the hours. It used to shut down at very unpredictable times around 6 or 7pm), but then again, neither does the zoo.

.

I was very glad that we got to go and meet up with the other families. Kind of bummed that I didn’t think earlier to take more pictures. Amused (and a bit worn-out from the chasing) that she was way more into the tons of other kids than into any silly cockatoo or wild African dogs, oftentimes leaving her own pack to hang and run around with other strangers.

*This was actually the first of our two very impromptu trips yesterday. Both times it almost came as a shock that my job is primarily taking care of Jocelyn now. Not that they should apologize, but maybe they should read this blog . Also, there was another article I read yesterday that ties into that. We should get into it tomorrow.

The great meltdown is slightly fascinating, if that makes any sense. I got to observe it first hand while trying to navigate Joss’s stroller down Milwaukee Ave (and in front of quite a few vacant lots, but more on that later). The streets, certainly the main streets have already been plowed through, have abundant problems there - meteorite-sized cracked concrete and asphalt holes as a result of the heavy snow and even heavier plowing. But we were mostly staying on the sidewalks. And not that everything is faulty, (for instance, we had a lot of snow build-up and most days were well below freezing, so there is bound to be plenty of running and even still water), but some thoughts did occur to me during our jaunt.

1. It’s dirty out there. A lot of it unintentional pollution, dirt from tires and exhaust trapped in the snow. Maybe there is little to be done about that. But there was also a lot of litter, cig butts, bottles, wrappers, a bunch of crude, nasty stuff everywhere. People, please, who cleans up your crap? Nobody! Your mamas don’t live outside. I would add that down my stretch of Milwaukee (Particularly from Western/Armitage to California), we are lacking in public waste cans (which are normally provided for by the local Chamber of Commerce or other concerned local businesses), but even still. I can’t recall the amount of times I’ve seen people litter within feet, inches even, of a perfectly usable trashcan. At the very least, have some pride in your city and yourself. Even more so, think of the misquitos attracted to the still water caused by drain blockage.
2. Speaking of local businesses…  A lot of the property is being run-down. For whatever reason that is/may be (and I know that not all of it is tied to the current problems with the economy, but rather a wanting to see things redeveloped in a different fashion), people still own the property. People who own the property, even when they are making no money currently off of the property are still in charge of taking care of the property and its surroundings. Which means, shovel the sidewalks! Many of us are aware of the ridiculous laws in Chicago concerning sidewalk care*, but you still have a civic duty to take care of your own image and prospective clients, don’t you? Not to mention the community for which you are a part of, even if just tangentially? There were about three times during our trip that we had to share the street with cars and other pedestrians because we couldn’t navigate on the sidewalk - there was too much ice left over. And, that goes for you too, Logan Boulevard property owners. If your house or property is worth several hundreds of thousands (if not millions) of dollars, then why can’t you pay some kid or homeless person $5-10 once a week or so to shovel out your walkway? Consider it your own economic stimulus package. Thank you for your patriotism.
3. Enjoy the day. It’s a lovely day of grace.

* Apparently, if someone falls in front of your property as a result of inclement weather (ice, say) and you did some work on it since the last snowfall (shovel and/or salt), then you are liable. If they fall and you personally left it untouched, you are not liable. I know: Stupid, stupid, stupid!

But it was sufficiently warm for a muffin trip and an outing to the library.

The ladies at the Dunkin Donuts were so smitten with her that they offered her a couple munchkins. Such is the hard life of a little princess…

Pic courtesy Shoddy Camphone.

Despite the protests, Ron Huberman — who just two years ago was pegged as Daley’s appointed man on the Chicago Transit Authority and is now taking over the CEO spot in the Chicago Public Schools — won’t be changing much. That’s largely because the same man will still be in charge, Mayor Daley. Even the Chicago Teacher’s Union (CTU) knows that nothing good comes of fighting Daley’s will - or at least it seems that way. CTU President Marilyn Stewart pretty much laid down the guns, saying she would prefer somebody with some actual education experience, but that she, for one, welcomes her new handsome overlord. (Is that two Simpsons quotes in two days?)

 *”Superman” by aka Kath via Flickr

 But let’s look at the bright side shall we. There’s a lot of experience that Huberman can bring to our neighborhood schools, and wherever my daughter ends up going, I’m sure it will be brighter and better because of what he can bring in. Take, for example:

• Introducing a new threat in high school men’s basketball and football, a new league will be formed out of the old standard-bearer Red West and will be rechristened, The Pink Line.
• For streamlining and updating purpses, during off-peak hours, four core classes will be shut down to one. During peak hours, two classes. Classes will resume better than before in 2014.
• Leave home early; go home late, alternate!
• After modifications are done on the north west side school (presently causing any classwork to come to a near-grinding halt), students will be able to cruise along at speeds of up to 60 miles per hour.
• Expect integral schools not serving white kids to be shut down.

Got any more ideas? Put ‘em in the comments box and we’ll be sure to post them on the internets!

(Caveat lector: When last we left our hero, he was talking about a male friend of the family who helps to watch the baby but doesn’t really change diapers. And now we continue with our saga.)

There was a time, come to think of it, when I went to my friend’s parents’ house to pick up my daughter. And she was very little at this stage, and not yet able to walk, so she could easily be held by one hand under her diaper-laden butt. Often, that’s how we would carry her, with one arm steadying her of course. He brought her out to the front as I was coming. And at this point, he highly resisted the idea of carrying around a diaper bag, even one as deliberately unisex as ours (it’s like a green and hazel brown messenger bag fell into a vat of plastic). But as he was lifting her, I think he had regrets about that decision. Dark, warm and liquidy regrets.

Fortunately, I was carrying her bag anyway and we rushed back into the house to take care of her. Or rather, to watch her being cared for by his sister while I was being escorted through the house and force-fed some delicious homemade Puerto Rican cuisine and he gathered his possessions.

And yes, he now bravely carries the baby-bag on longer trips.

The first time we went out together with her (for something other than a doctor’s appointment, I believe) was during our anniversary - about two weeks after Jocelyn was born. We decided to go to the local theaters for an innocuous and relatively quiet kiddie movie and then head over to a Chicago institution, a local chocolate and ice cream parlor named Margie’s Candies . We waited outside the shoppe for several minutes and then finally got seated in a tight corner (well, the whole place is one tight corner after another - it’s a full circle of tight corners. And deliciousness).

We got our dinners, which mostly consisted of wonderful old fashioned ice cream overlayed with melted, rich, dark chocolate, and were chowing away when we realized that the daughter had plans of her own, which eventually left her very uncomfortable. We had to do some immediate clean up, but there wasn’t room to manuever and the place had no open bathroom, certainly not one large enough for what we were in need of. Fortunately, we live within walking distance and were able to rush home, but it was a long five minutes.

Taking little ones out in public can be, at the least, a hassle. You always have to plan for everything and then some. Some places may have adequate stalls and cooperative and helpful staff. Some places may be baby and kid friendly, others only sporadically so. We tend to patronage the places that have those amenities, but sometimes you’re stuck. And sometimes, it’s just best not to go and bring the party home.

Outdoor festivals, however, are a bit of a tricky widget, I suppose. This last summer, we took Jocelyn to the Puerto Rican Festival. We made sure to take lots of pictures, get her in lots of rides, take her to hear music, see her play with dogs (poor dogs)… She had lots of fun. But we could change her on the grass. We were able to bring food and even buy some there. We brought her to a nearby Puerto Rican restaurant (Borinquen - also highly recommended. Especially for their wonderfully garlicky, crunchy, and chewy jibaritos) afterward and she ate the bread (it was really cute. Had to stick my fingers in her mouth to rescue her from her own squirrelly-ness).

But we were able to get in and out easily enough, it wasn’t overcrowded, and it was near home. Not so much with the inauguration, it seems. An advisory for the upcoming presidential inauguration - according to the NYTimes - is telling parents that they should not bring their young children to this mid-winter and overcrowded event. To hear some people tell it, that should be the case with all public outdoor gatherings (partly, my immediate suspicion is, because they’re fascists. But also, we parents do have a way of not knowing where we’re going with our massive strollers sometimes [and heck, we need ours to survive the Chicago winters and sidewalk terrain. So I’m not going to apologize for having one]). Others think that it’s more curtailing of rights of individuals to bring their babies into highly hazardous areas where a bomb or a sniper may arise.

Umm… anybody up for deliberate moderation on this?

The other night, our daughter was being a little monster. She was rampaging through one room, then the next, screaming, sometimes gleefully and giddily squealing, stopping to throw objects followed by tantrums. We knew that she wasn’t just tired, but overly so. We’ve learned from these moments to turn off lights (a habit that we do half an hour before her bedtime, and really what we should do before ours) and take her into her little sensory-deprived bedroom, where my wife tends to coo her and lay with her for about 15 minutes or so.

I’m not a big fan of manicured lawns (because the chemicals and water and energy put into caring for them are taxing on resources and the environment), but I miss the days of being able to run up and down our neighbors lawns playing freeze-tag or forms of catch or football. And I miss falling in the grass and just smelling it, touching the dirt. I can see why golfing is so popular.

My mind wants to take a nap while my daughter is catching up on her sleep right now. I just may allow it to do so, because I know too well the effects of not catching up on my own sleep and, in fact, not allowing myself to just be still and meditate for a moment.

Too much stimuli. Too many web pages open. Too many things on the calendar. The baby’s sleep schedule is all awry. Too many things start flooding the eyes and the brain patterns. The nerves start racking up, I think of all things I should be doing, all the things I could be doing. But I’m wrecked; I’m immobile; I can’t help but be overwhelmed.

I find myself listening to more folksy songs and less rock and rap. Several days will go by without any caffeine interference. I touch the ivy hanging in my living room because its the only green living nearby.

According to this article in the Boston Globe (fittingly titled, “How the City Hurts Your Brain”), too much city living’s not just not good for the soul, it’s taxing on the brain. Too much stimuli, too many things to be on the lookout for, too many lights, too little nature, too much of too much - our minds were not set up for such things and so our responses slow; we become sluggish; we lay our eyes down and start typing in weird words in our own blog posts… (or maybe that’s just me…). This all, of course, is nothing new. Urban planners knew this as long ago as the late 19th Century, when the boulevard system was set in place in Chicago and Central Park was developed in NYC.

Maybe if you’ve come to the end of this post and you’re a bit tired, a bit stressed, a bit over-stimulated. Now might be a good time to find a patch of green and meditate. Or, now might be a good time for a nap…

We’re spending Christmas in Branson, MO this year with extended family. Which is always good for several laughs and many, many stories. And if and when I can get my head wrapped right around my story-telling abilities I may share some of these stories. But, as it is, the baby has not gotten her share of sleep this week (starting with the first day where she slept for half the time she normally would and up to and after opening presents Christmas morning, where she screamed several times in front of all gathered for this momentous occasion).

Also, I do most of my thinking on the computer or another location that I like to think of as my solitary-confinement-and-intelligence-gathering area (occasionally those two locations merge), but neither are as readily available to me down here. So, some of my more vivid memories may be recalled and released to the loving, anticipating, and frankly rabid fanbase over the next few weeks. In the meantime, I will say that I love being with my family. And so does my baby - maybe a little too much, in fact. So much so that Thursday afternoon is the first time since Saturday evening that I’ve been able to get on the internets. [Of course, I may lose points if I disclose that Thursday is Christmas day, right? Oh well, it’s the first chance that I’ve gotten to get away from the baby and other responsibilities long enough to travel down to the one place in our time-share  that has internet connection.]

Time-shares are an intriguing concept. I would’ve never have thought they to be as intriguing as they are. At least not based on the high-pressure sales people and their high-pressure sales tactics.

About one week ago, I’ve been sipping a cold beer in my warm apartment, stuffing envelopes and catching up on old and new friends through the glories of the internets on my own personal laptop computer. There is a beautiful woman who agreed to marry me sleeping soundly in the room to my left. The room to my right is holding our wonder-magnet of a daughter - tipping the scales of cuteness, even for a toddler. We are all well-fed. I, for one, am a little too well-fed.

As stated earlier, by the time you read this, I expect that we’ll be hundreds of miles away. We flee from nothing; we are not evacuated nor exiled. We do not go looking for green pastures or food or refuge. We go willingly, because we want to meet our family and be together in another heated apartment (or three, to be more precise). We are driving down there in a car that is not our own, because we pay somebody for the right to borrow their car.

And our Christmas will have few gifts. Not because, obviously, we cannot afford to buy and give gifts. We do have money, and more importantly, we have lines of credit. Part of the reason we are dramatically cutting back on gift-giving this year is both pragmatic and purposeful: we don’t think it wise to go further into debt to buy things that won’t last and really don’t matter. And I’m good with that. But also, there’s another aspect that I’m just thinking about: We all have what we need. I mean, I could use new shoes. If someone got me a new pair of jeans or some boots (or boots for the baby or the mama) that would be appreciated. But, really, we are all capable of providing, we all have plenty. And then some.

Do I feel guilty about that? Honestly…

Sometimes.

But I realize that we have resources in order to share and to share freely - with and for all, not just with those I agree with or like. And, I believe, as much as we do share we are doing good, we are actively spreading love. I may not directly affect children lost or trapped in Rhodesia or North Korea or the Congo or San Francisco or Brazil or Lower Wacker Drive or Darfur. But hopefully my family will influence people to make all aspects of the world a better place.

Merry Christmas - to those that celebrate it.

I hope to amass enough stories, notes of interest, etc. to keep the loyal and massive ChicagoDad fanbase appeased while I go on vacation starting tomorrow night. Today we are having family over for a preemptive Christmas and we’ll have more family over for a posthumous Christmas shortly after we return. So, I’m trying to get a head start. Not that I’ll get all that much accomplished.

Presently, I wonder what we’re going to have with our ham (spiral, this time. I’m too lazy to make 5 whole hams in just over a month. No one should be asked to do that. Ever) and maybe some bacon. Wife’s gonna make her mashed potatoes on both occasions again, which means I’ll need to get plenty of butter and milk to ease ‘em down. The side of the family that’s coming today loves Iron Mike Ditka’s pulled-pork nachos. Should I try to make some bacon nachos? It’s not traditional, but we have enough old school stuff (forgot the figgie pudding, though) to make it work; that is, if it does work.

Those words I heard as I was hauling myself and my seventeen month old daughter off the bus. We were on our way to a birthday party for a one year old boy named Samuel and a man had entered the bus and struck up a conversation with us. Of course, this being Chicago on a Saturday leading up to Christmas, a lot of people got on and off the bus during our three-mile tour. But the little observant lady found no one willing to make eye contact with her or address her on the bus until late in the journey when this man did. By then, we were getting close to our destination and the bus was getting closer to its final destination.

I appreciate public transportation for a lot of reasons. Obviously, a large segment of the population (us included) can’t afford to have/keep a car, congestion of a massive group of people trying to get to a few spaces in a very time-specific manner in separate vehicles would destroy our infrastructure and cause everyone to be late, wastes preportionately less gas, etc., etc. But it also forces us to face the cold, hard reality of a shared space. That shared space rarely turns into something that I (nor any sane person) would call community, but at least we become aware that we are not alone nor left to our own devices (well, except for that jerk on Western Ave who thought that somehow me sitting down on the bench next to him on a CROWDED bus would give him a right to voice his Euro-trash homophobia as if I somehow offended him). So, every once in a while, it’s good for a hardened Chicagoan like myself to run into another Chicagoan who is cool with just striking up a convo about kids on the bus. Every once in a while, it’s nice to lower the old guard down.

And, I must admit, there was a bit of pride in me when we walked out into the December rain and I realized that it was another man - who had entered the bus within the last two minutes and sat next to Joss, who she had also looked up to as if to strike her own muted conversation - that said something to the first guy about me and my daughter. I could practically feel him point with a bit of pride himself at the odd sight of a full-grown man holding preciously to his pint-sized princess. “That’s something you don’t see every day.” Being here all my life, seeing so many fathers abandon their children, knowing so many of the children who were abandoned, I knew exactly what he was talking about. And I felt extra good about my special relationship with my special baby.

It wasn’t until now that I realized that these brief encounters in these shared spaces could also be described so succinctly and warmly.

I want to show you all pictures of my sweet Jocelyn and her (slightly younger) cousin. I may not do it at this site, but I’ll at least try to link to it. Chloe is a doll, but I rarely see images of her myself. So, when she (and the requisite accompanying parents) arrive tomorrow, you can bet we’ll take millions upon millions of pix.

Economy’s killing. Personally, we’re doing all right. And we expect to continue to do all right. But we have friends who are feeling the housing and financial crisis. Just got back from blistering up my thumbs trying to help some friends ready a garden apartment so they could rent it out and afford their mortgage payments. On the flip side, at the beginning of next week, we will have a steady job between the two of us for the first time in a year and a half. That’s before the baby was born. And by steady job, decent (if not outstanding) income, good benefits, bi-monthly checks, etc. To boot, she’ll be working with a non-for-profit company that is trying to make the world a better place (and none-to-soon, I might add).

Also, we’re trying to finish off our debts and we may be able to completely cut them off within the year. My hope is that when employers are talking about “trimming the fat,” they’re not speaking of people’s livelihoods primarily, but of excessive consumerism and wasteful spending.

Trying to get the NGO off the ground. We just got an EIN (Employer Identification Number <?>), and now we’re looking at banks that will work in the US and the country we’ll be working in as well as trying to figure out how to set it up so that we can begin fundraising. Looking for some good, free lawyers.

Now, I’m hungry…