Fat Happy Tuesday

Happy Fat Tuesday! We are celebrating with a big ole pot of jambalaya and some cajun influenced drinks. For chow I've got the shrimp and andouille sausage jambalaya on the stove just simmering away. To prepare our appetite and lose the troubles of the day and to celebrate Fat Tuesday, we are drinking a modified Zombie, which is a concoction of fresh squeezed lime juice, dark rum, light rum, triple sec and amaretto with a splash of mango juice for luck. Bon Appetit and Happy Fat Tuesday!

What to My Wondering Eyes...

While I realize that this is not an ideal shot. If you look carefully in that tree you'll see a fairly large dark colored bird. I was getting ready this morning and just happened to look out the window when I saw a large bird land in the tree in front of our house. I realized from watching its flight before he or she landed that it was not one of the neighborhood crows, grackels or other common dark colored birds.

After watching him for several minutes, I noticed when it turned its head almost completely around, and I could see the face, that it had the very unique bill of a falcon. I could also tell that the front of him was much lighter than the back, as I occasionally caught glimpses as the bird sat on the branch. For once, I actually ran to get my camera, even in the middle of the usual morning rush. I was glad I did. I have now realized that I got a shot and a look at a peregrine falcon. There is a pair that have routinely nested on the Evanston Public Library. Apparently, thanks to DDT, these birds were on the brink of extinction. With the ban on DDT, their population is slowly increasing. Their natural place to nest is on cliffs, so I guess that's what the Evanston Library feels like to them. I also read that they are the world's fastest animal, clocking in at a top speed of 273 mph. That's just freakin' cool and it was in the tree in front of my house. Nature gave me a little present today.

Once Upon A Time

Once upon a time, I was an English literature major, first at Calvin and then at the University of South Carolina. For whatever reason, the one poem that resonated loudly within me was "The Hospital Window" by James Dickey. I still remember sitting in my Modern Poetry class and feeling as if I could have written the poem, an almost deja vu feeling. Little did I know that the deja vu was in reverse and was more of a foreshadowing of things to come. I am not being morbid, merely reflecting on the fact that poetry can encapsulate experiences. I understood then and understand more now the words of this poem. It happened that James Dickey was the poet in residence at the University of South Carolina when I was there. I often rode the same elevator with him in the English building. I often wish I had told him how much I loved his poem.

The Hospital Window
BY JAMES L. DICKEY

I have just come down from my father.
Higher and higher he lies
Above me in a blue light
Shed by a tinted window.
I drop through six white floors
And then step out onto pavement.

Still feeling my father ascend,
I start to cross the firm street,
My shoulder blades shining with all
The glass the huge building can raise.
Now I must turn round and face it,
And know his one pane from the others.

Each window possesses the sun
As though it burned there on a wick.
I wave, like a man catching fire.
All the deep-dyed windowpanes flash,
And, behind them, all the white rooms
They turn to the color of Heaven.

Ceremoniously, gravely, and weakly,
Dozens of pale hands are waving
Back, from inside their flames.
Yet one pure pane among these
Is the bright, erased blankness of nothing.
I know that my father is there,

In the shape of his death still living.
The traffic increases around me
Like a madness called down on my head.
The horns blast at me like shotguns,
And drivers lean out, driven crazy—
But now my propped-up father

Lifts his arm out of stillness at last.
The light from the window strikes me
And I turn as blue as a soul,
As the moment when I was born.
I am not afraid for my father—
Look! He is grinning; he is not

Afraid for my life, either,
As the wild engines stand at my knees
Shredding their gears and roaring,
And I hold each car in its place
For miles, inciting its horn
To blow down the walls of the world

That the dying may float without fear
In the bold blue gaze of my father.
Slowly I move to the sidewalk
With my pin-tingling hand half dead
At the end of my bloodless arm.
I carry it off in amazement,

High, still higher, still waving,
My recognized face fully mortal,
Yet not; not at all, in the pale,
Drained, otherworldly, stricken,
Created hue of stained glass.
I have just come down from my father.

Party Time!

So, the birthday seems like a good excuse to go out and have some fun. Tonight at The Hideout there are going to be 2 bands and an awesome DJ set. I'd love it if you joined me. I'm guessing we'll get there around 9 or 10 and stay until late. It's January. It's cold and I think it's time to warm it up a bit with a little drinking and some dancing.

44

I'm thinking that 44 is a lucky number. Look what it got us last week!

And now for your listening and viewing enjoyment...

Mr. Blue Sky

The sun is shining and a new day has dawned. The swearing in is over and we now begin down the road once again. Hopefully, the wind will be at our back for a change.

That's a Spicy Meatball!

For Christmas, Mr. Ten S gave me an Indian cookbook. I've been experimenting with it the past couple of weekends. Last weekend we had a lovely chicken curry with a side of zucchini and yellow squash cooked in mustard seeds and some other fun spices. This weekend we had a lamb curry with a side of green beans that were spiced with dried red peppers, cumin and mustard seed. Both, although somewhat time consuming to cook, turned out really lovely.

Bink has been a picky eater for years. Recently he has been becoming more adventurous. Yesterday I employed him in my kitchen as we made the lamb curry. He was amazed at the array of spices, some that he had never heard of before, that we used in the recipes. Bink peeled and chopped and stirred for me as we cooked our dinner. Although he is not typically a fan of spicy food, he was so curious, that he tried and ate quite a bit of everything that we had prepared. About halfway into the meal, he sort of paused and looked up and said, "It's not so spicy for Sweetness, but I'm like Papa. It's so spicy!"

My father, who is from a Norwegian family that thought pepper was an exotic spice, has never done well with spicy food. He literally will have to wipe down his forehead if even a small amount of pepper is present in a dish. There was no eating of tacos at our house, we owned no hot sauce and we certainly would never have gone to an Indian restaurant. All this to say that I think I have managed to escape the curse of my Scandanavian upbringing and must have dodged the genetic bullet that makes you sweat profusely at the first sign of a spice other than salt. Not so sure Bink escaped though.

My Friends

I know, I know. Another Naked Raygun post. Hey, if Miss Coffey can pontificate about her homies, so can I. This is so much more than just Naked Raygun though. They played two shows this weekend at House of Blues. Of course, I was at both. The first night, it was me and Lulu. We were beer fueled and ready to mosh. And we did. Lu and I have been going to Raygun shows since we were about 18 or 19. It was fun to hoist a beer again with her as we fell back into the crowd and were bumped around as we sang at the top of our lungs.

Second night, it was me, Mr. Ten S, my old friend Matt and his friend Sue. We again basked in the greatness of the Raygun. While poor Matt and Sue were massively jet-lagged and had to high tail it home, Mr. Ten S and I joined the band after the show for more fun. All I can say is that I treasure the friends that have shared the Naked Raygun road with me and the band and the new friends I have met along the way. You see, it's more than just a band to me. These are my friends. The ones beside me in the crowd and the ones that I share sweaty hugs with after the show. These are honest people. Real people. People that make me feel alive.



NAKED RAYGUN-Treason

Goodbye, 2008!

I don't know about any of you, but this is one year that I have both cherished and hated all at the same time. The long and short of it, minus the gruesome detail, is that it all came out well. It was one of those years where my feet were held to the fire again and I discovered what I am made of. At the end of the year, I am relatively happy and content after a whole lot of upheaval, but feel it was all a part of what life is and part of the process of becoming who I am.

I lost my drive for absolute perfection. But that's OK, because it was part of what was wrong. I discovered what unconditional love means in many different ways. Let me tell you folks, it sounds all pretty and stuff, but it isn't always fun and sometimes carries a heavy price, but in the end, the dedication pays off. We all deserve to love and be loved. Sometimes it just takes a little more work than we thought it would. I have learned that those memories that you store are worth more than gold. This past year, in fact this past month, I lost a beloved aunt and an uncle. I've watched my cousins grieve in a way that is all too familiar for me. I've held the hand of a person who was dying and who looked back on her life with me and shared with me the treasured moments and memories of her life. I will never forget the moments we shared. I hugged my cousins today that had suddenly and tragically lost their father. After being the recipient of all the hugs surrounding my mother's death, it was nice to be able to give some and provide the comfort for other loved ones. Family is so dear and so irreplaceable.

My own children are growing and changing. I now have a high school aged daughter. I've worried about changes, but have realized that our relationship is just as strong, if not stronger. I am watching the fruit of my labor as a parent blossom before my eyes. It is truly magical. I sometimes think I got lucky as a parent and then I think that maybe I get to take some of the credit for myself. Years of love and time and tears come to fruition. My job is not done, but I am happy where I am on the journey.

I am still in school and have my own goals in the crosshairs. I am happy for those I work with for the optimism that is surrounding their care. Truthfully, it makes my life easier as well, but it should and it's about time. I find myself in the predicament of being in some ways more on my own than ever, but it's OK. I've lost every crutch I've ever had and I've realized that I can stand on my own, but I also realize that I would rather stand with those I love by my side.

May each and every one of you have a most blessed 2009. I am hopeful. I always am. That's who I am.

Merry Christmas, Everybody! Cha! Cha! Cha!

Make a Smilebox slideshow

Let the Day Begin

Up early. Trying to give it a positive start instead of cursing it. Looking forward to having the monkey off my back and starting to celebrate the holidays.

We Could Be Heroes Just For One Day

In the most unlikely of times, Governor Rod Blagojevich was my hero for one day. On December 12, 2008, in the midst of a career-destructing scandal, Gov. Blagojevich managed to make it into work to sign the bill that will create adequate insurance coverage for children with autism. No matter what you think of the man, I can tell you first hand that I watched him being courted by those in support of this bill, and I watched as he promised to take care of it this term. For all the wrong that has been done, this is certainly a big right. Not only will families who up until now have not been able to afford care receive care, but school districts will sigh a huge breath of relief as the burden is taken off of their shoulders. Not that the schools no longer are required to provide services, but the fact of the matter is that they have never been equipped to provide the intensity of services necessary and really should never have had to shoulder the burden for so long. Private services are required for adequate care and thanks to Gov. Blagojevich, private care will now be rendered. I have been waiting for this day for a long time. Too bad such a wonderful deed is overshadowed by unbridled greed.

Just Because

Why am I posting this? No reason really, just because. Just because it makes me happy and its goofy. Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving. I am just hanging back and waiting for January.



SLADE-Run Runaway

Rockin' My World!

Barack Obama isn't even in office yet and he is already drafting legislation that has been a long time coming. For many years, I have only served the rich and privileged. In general, and with very few exceptions, treatment for autism is not covered by insurance companies because it is considered "unrecoverable." This has been a gross oversight on the part of the insurance companies. While it is true that those with the disorder will never be fully "cured," all who are treated make progress and if treated early enough and intensively enough, these children can go on to lead fairly normal productive lives.

This morning I was alerted that there is legislation that Barack Obama has had drafted in order to provide coverage for treatment of autism. Sounds to me like at least this promise was not an empty one, not that I expected it would be. If this piece of legislation goes through, I will no longer only treat children from wealthy families. Everyone will have fair access to the best possible treatment. In my world, this is nothing short of a miracle. Go Obama!

Rock the Vote!

I voted. Did you? Seems like such a simple thing to do. Take time to appreciate everything that has happened throughout the course of our nation's history that allowed you the chance to vote today. Be thankful and take advantage of this awesome privilege that we have as Americans.

Potluck at the Trump Hotel and Other Tales of Woe

Last night I went to one of my friend's bachleorette party. Her bridal party had rented a suite at the brand new Trump Hotel in Chicago. The view was magnificent. To make up for the splurge on the room, dinner was potluck in the suite with lasagna, meatballs, and shots of Jagermeister. I'm sure the Donald would approve.

Anyhow, we all drank and ate and "enjoyed" the entertainment, a bananahammock-free stripper who sounded a bit like Ahnold, the gubnerator. Hey, he licked my face and told me I was pretty. I bet he says that to all the girls. The better part of the evening was when we went out and managed to stumble into a club that had a great DJ working a small floor with a great sound system and filled with friends. I don't think I've danced that much in years. It felt really good. Possibly an alternative title for this post could be, "How Tenacious S Got Her Groove Back.'

You know, I've been a bit absent lately. I don't really know why. Just haven't felt like writing. While I was out, I saw The Squeeze for the first time (it was Glen Tilbrook's birthday and the other guys in the band surprised him with dancing girls with a birthday cake on stage and he got all sappy), RiotFest (which was highlighted by the final performance of The Bomb and a stellar set by The Horropops), and a very beat-heavy night at Metro watching Crystal Castles. So, it's not like I've been sulking around the house or anything. I've had some serious fun. Just didn't feel like writing.

For your entertainment, here's a sample of a couple of my woeful nights.

Just in Case

Not being one who sits back idly and lets things happen, I've been working on a plan to bolster the Tenacious S clan's financial bottom line in the event of a dramatic recession. Back in the Great Depression, my grandfather was an out of work painter. Deciding to take his fate into his own hands, he built beehives and then sold honey door to door. I figure if it worked then, hey, that could work now! So this weekend I plan on putting Sweetness and Bink to work painting the beehives. This plan is genius! I'm totally relaxed now. No financial worries at all. We'll just raise bees and sell honey. The whole family can pitch in! There's only one small problem...I'm allergic to the things and Sweetness and Bink cry and run when they see them. Minor glitch.

Is This Thing On?

Ah hem..Is this thing on?
To the people who made my week hell and my client's life miserable, I'm coming to get you. You will not be able to hide behind policy. Words that come to mind are "unmitigated disaster" or "gross negligence." I'm writing a very long report that will expose your incompetence. I know who the good guys are. The rest of you better hide. Have a nice weekend.

Black and Blood

About a year and a half ago I wrote a post about the tattoo that I was thinking about getting. For at least 20 years I have considered getting a tattoo. For at least 15 of those 20 years, I was a little indecisive about what I really wanted, which is why I never got one...until last weekend.

For the second year in a row, I went to a conference in Santa Barbara. This year's conference was even better than last year and I definitely learned a great deal. What was different was that although I casually knew a few people that were attending, no one I work with on a regular basis was there, so outside a couple of dinners and the conference days, I had some time to myself.

I arrived on Wednesday early in the afternoon. Hungry and looking for lunch, I headed out onto the main street in town, State Street. I grabbed a quick bite and continued on my walk, just intending on doing a little shopping and enjoying the day. One of the very first places that caught my eye was Golden Eagle Tattoo. I liked some of the work they had on the walls and found myself looking through some of the artists' books. I liked one of the artists in particular and walked away with lots going on in my mind.

The next couple of days were a blur of conference and dinners with colleagues with little time left for myself. When it was all over on Friday night after dinner, I went back to my hotel and finally had some time alone. I woke up on Saturday still thinking about getting a tattoo and decided to go for a walk, get some lunch and head over to the shop. Somewhere between Wednesday and Saturday the thought had become a plan.

I walked in and talked to Jason, the artist that I was interested in. He was very kind and had me look more carefully at his work to be sure I wanted to use him. We looked at my post about what I had in mind and then he came up with a sketch that I thought was perfect. This is about when it all took on a very surreal feeling for me. I heard entire discussions going on in my head about what I was doing and all the implications. In the end, I felt very calm and relaxed and finally took my seat at Jason's station.

For the next two hours I sat there hugging the back of the chair. There was never a moment where I felt like I was in pain. It felt warm and slightly irritating, but that was about it. It was the nothingness of sitting there for two hours that put me into a very meditative state. On the wall in front of me were sketches of tattoos that Jason was working on. One of them was of two small birds sitting on some dogwood branches. It was very beautiful and the birds made me think of my daughter. The eye of one of the birds was particularly captivating and I found myself staring into it for long lengths of time.

At no time during the process did we take a break other than Jason asking me quickly if I was feeling OK. I felt fine and he kept working diligently. By the time we were done, the trashcan on floor next to me was full of used gloves and toweling that was covered in black ink and my blood. The blood just seemed like a reminder of the fact that this was now a part of my body. Something that I would have for the rest of my life. I'd already made my peace with it. As I stood to look at my new addition in the mirror, I felt completely pleased and fell in love with the work.

When he was done, Jason cleaned the tattoo and wrapped it, giving me instructions on how to care for it as it healed. I knew that there was a healing process, and was glad that he was careful in repeating instructions to me. I settled up and headed back to my hotel room feeling like I had the greatest secret on earth. When I got there, I realized that even though the process was not as painful as I had expected, my body had been through a lot and it was tired.

Four days later, my tattoo already feels like a part of me. I'm over the surprise of seeing it there in the mirror. It feels like it was always meant to be there.

Funny Things to Do

This past weekend I had possibly the oddest night I've had in quite some time. We were invited by our friend to go see his band, 4 Star Alarm, play at the Lincoln Park Fireman's Cookoff. Saturday was a gorgeous day and I thought that being outside at a cookoff with a band sounded like a brilliant idea.

When we got there, attendance was pretty sparse. Apparently this was the first year that these particular firemen had attempted this kind of fundraiser and they had not done a very good job publicizing it. At first I just thought they really liked us when we were greeted with showers of thank you's and a free calendar (which if you know me, you know is sooooooooooooo not my thing). Some girls like beefcake, I go for the triple "T" threat...tall, thin, tortured. Anyhow, once we were in, we realized that pretty much everyone else there was a fireman or belonged with a fireman (Lulu, eat your heart out). The food was good. The beer was bad, and worse, served by "beer dancers" as my friend calls them. Think Coyote Ugly.

So, our friend's band is a little emo and a little punk. They showed up in full regalia, standing out like sore thumbs in the crowd. It was funny to notice that as time passed, the lead singer lost some of his "flair." Off went the big chunky belt. Off went the '70's rock star shades. On went the headband bandanna. I think he was trying to camouflage himself. As they started to play, my friend pointed out that the crowd was stepping further and further away from the stage. Sadly, they actually did one of the best shows I've heard from them yet, but I think it went unappreciated.

The band finished at about 10, so Mr. Ten S and I decided to take a walk in the neighborhood. Our first bad plan and ultimately funny moment was when we decided to go into one of the local bars to use the restroom. Woooooooo! I forgot all about the Trixie and Chad culture in Lincoln Park and had to take a huge step back when I realized that :

A. They all looked exactly alike and were clones of the people I had spent my entire youth avoiding.
B. They all looked far too young to be so inebriated.
C. These are the people who spawn and move to Glenview.
Frightened, we made a beeline for the door and continued our walk. The highlight of the walk was spending some time in a real record store and scoring some vinyl. The next amusing moment was when we decided that rather than head into a Trixie bar, we'd go to Neo for a drink. Now mind you, we're in Saturday evening outside cookout gear. Woooooo! I forgot all about:

A. Everyone dressed in black.
B. Sprockets Redux atmosphere
C. How much more time these people put into their "outfits."
Uh yeah, we didn't really fit in there either, but they had better beer on tap and at least were playing some pretty cool tunes.

After our little adventures, we decided to call it a night. Other than the way North Shore boy on the train who was trying his best to be both cool and friendly, we made it home without further incident. The whole night left me realizing that I really like my crowd at places like The Beat Kitchen and Bottom Lounge. There's a little bit of attitude, but on the whole, they tend to be a whole lot more accepting of just about anybody. Well, unless you're too much of a Trixie. Then they'll just mock you behind your back and go back to what they were doing.