Zrusilla Ugsome

Little absurdities of the day

2006-02-01T02:00:42Z

and one large one.

The man in front of me at the Walgreens checkout buys a pack of Marlboros and donates to the American Heart Association.

I drive by the offices of Near North Properties located on 47th & King on the South Side.

Yahoo! headlines: President to address oil "addiction" in SOTU speech.

Leg of Warthog

2006-01-24T00:29:45Z

in Sweet and Sour Sauce and other delicacies in The Africa Cookbook.

A pair of skates

2006-01-23T23:19:29Z

the glassy ice and me.

When I arrived by bike at 1:00, the rink was empty. I practiced basic figure moves, swizzles, slaloms, stops and crossovers, in perfect peace with the sun shining brilliantly off the ice and the wind in my face.

I'm gonna have to find an indoor rink when it warms up.

You meet the most interesting people

2006-01-23T23:02:59Z

in Hyde Park.

Today I was at the Starbucks reading another chapter of Damian's "Object-Oriented Perl" when I struck up a conversation with a woman next to me who was surrounded by and reading from a stack of books on the Virgin Mary. It turns out she is writing The Everything Virgin Mary book, part of the Everything Book series, which is a knockoff of the Dummies series. She's a bit nervous since she has to cover 2,000 years worth of Marian history and theology in a few hundred pages and two and a half months!

Watch for it on your mass-market bookstore shelves.

This car just screams

2006-01-22T21:33:18Z

"Junior Nazi Party Official."

The Chrysler 300C.

Ladies: Recently divorced?

2006-01-22T16:36:15Z

You want one of these.

For musicians

2006-01-21T00:01:54Z

Top ten signs you might be getting too old to gig.

10. During the second set, you scream for the drummer to please stop hitting those annoying cymbals.
9. All you want from groupies is a foot massage.
8. Prepping for the gig involves plucking hair from your chin or nose.
7. You need your glasses to see your amp settings.
6. You no longer use a tip jar.
5. You ask the club owner if you can start at 8:30 p.m. instead of 9:30 p.m.
4. You need a nap before the gig.
3. During the breaks, you now go to your van to lie down.
2. You don't recover until Tuesday afternoon.
1. The waitress is your daughter.

Under the NCLB Act

2006-01-20T03:13:27Z

we are entitled to a statement of our child's teacher's credentials. I see that we may get this letter in our choice of eight languages. I would like ours in Bosnian.

Sea lion

2006-01-17T23:39:44Z

gives hybrid cars the seal of approval.

Take pride in your dorky little accomplishments

2006-01-17T23:23:41Z

Sometimes it's all you've got.

I just layered a half-meat, half-vegetable lasagna. I perfectly estimated, without consulting a recipe, all the ingredients required. Nothing was left over.

Now I need to reduce the mess the process generates.

Mmmmmm

2006-01-17T01:51:38Z

Homemade pad thai.

Appropriate strikes again

2006-01-14T15:28:33Z

"Mommy, is it appropriate to have French toast for breakfast?"

"Of course it's appropriate, honey!"

Turns out we have no bread. So, it's appropriate, but not possible.

zrusilla @ 2006-01-14T09:23:00

2006-01-14T15:26:02Z

Ten Top Trivia Tips about Zrusilla!

Influenza got its name because people believed the disease was caused by the evil "influence" of zrusilla.

Zrusilla can turn her stomach inside out!

Birds do not sleep in zrusilla, though they may rest in her from time to time.

Antarctica is the only continent without zrusilla.

Zrusilla was declared extinct in 1902.

It takes forty minutes to hard-boil zrusilla.

More than one million stray dogs and half a million stray cats live in zrusilla!

Only fifty-five percent of men wash their hands after using zrusilla!

The first toy product ever advertised on television was Mr Zrusilla Head.

Three seagulls flying overhead are a warning that zrusilla is near.

Frighteningly accurate. That bit about turning my stomach inside out? Absolutely true. My medications rip up my stomach like a road crew rips up the Dan Ryan in summer. And fellas? Wash your hands. Please. For everyone's good.

I wrapped up my contract

2006-01-14T15:21:47Z

at Bank of America.

Word of my departure travelled quickly up and down the line of cubes. The knuckleheads, as I have come to affectionately call my cubiclemates, were startled and upset. "What? You can't extend? I can't believe you're not going to be here on Tuesday!" I called over my supervisor. "These fellows have become emotionally attached to me," I told him. "Next time you get a female contractor, give them the heads-up a few days in advance so they can deal with their grief."

It was a pleasant gig, and a total freebie that fell from the sky into my lap.

I never want to see a Vignette product again, though.

Spam I didn't open

2006-01-04T03:08:36Z

Subject: YOUR NAMESAKE IN IRAQ

A House is Not a Motel

2006-01-02T22:51:20Z

in Ontario in January. A playlist for Hisey:

"A House is Not a Motel," Love
"Things I'd Like to Say", New Colony Six
"When Leon Spinx Moved Into Town", Califone
"Out of My Hands", This Kind of Punishment
"Alternate Route to Vulcan Street", Super Furry Animals
"Being It", Arthur Russell
"Panik", Métal Urbain
"You Are Chains", Secret Machines
"Choci Loni", Young Marble Giants
"Dance of the Hopping Mad", The Raincoats
"Touch", The Lyres
"Familiarity Breeds Contempt", The Chills
"Out of Limits", Marketts
"Bang Bang", Joe Cub Sextet
"I Have Always Been Here Before", Roky Erickson
"Facelist", Sunburned Hand of the Man
"Snow Your Thirst and Sun Your Open Mouth", Amon Düül

New hope for my job search

2006-01-02T17:07:45Z

I can apply to be head coach of the Green Bay Packers.

Round shiny things

2006-01-01T20:10:27Z

from Hyde Park Records.

Come Down, The Dandy Warhols
Singles. Period. The Ex. A collection of singles from the vinyl years
Diamond Dogs, David Bowie.
Uhuru Na Umoja, Frank Wright
World of Echo, Arthur Russell
An apparently-eponymous EP by The Arcade Fire

Tonight's menu

2006-01-01T20:03:38Z

Roast chicken, homemade bread, salad.

UPDATE: Roast chicken turned out great. Golden brown, crispy skin, with tender, juicy meat. Bread a total failure. An experienced baker can tell early on when she's looking at a clunker--yeast won't sponge properly, gluten doesn't seem to develop in the dough--and I knew it. I need better, fresher ingredients.

Fashion disasters

2006-01-01T19:27:22Z

I try to stay out of fashion trouble by keeping my outfits very low-key, somewhat up to date, and within a narrow range. Some folks get a bit more adventurous and get themselves into trouble.

Feathers are by definition camp and should never be worn to dinner. Especially not by women. Feathers at the neck and wrist are unconducive to dining.

Fitted panel skirts, flared at the hem, from upholstery-weight fabric are ill-advised on most people. Actually, all people, now that I think of it, but especially those with booty.

Leave grandma's curtains alone. Avoid the cream-white damask or crushed velvet. Watch where those topstitched seams fall--they draw the eye like a magnet, usually where you don't want it.

Cowl necks are gone, baby, and aren't coming back around any time soon. Glitter is extremely tricky to wear. An entire top or skirt of glitter is too much for dinner, particularly if you are of a certain age and your husband even more so.

Gentlemen, denim in any form is not appropriate for a fine dinner. Neither are western shirts or ratty sweaters.

A quick rule of thumb for men or women: if David Bowie would wear it more stylishly than you, put it back on the rack.

Blackbird

2006-01-01T16:09:47Z

is a slick, hip, trendy restaurant in the West Loop that attracts a slick, hip, trendy crowd--or what passes for one around here. While standing at the bar I beheld the gallery of fashion disasters: the Chubby Flapper, the Aging Stripper, the Walking Gym Sock, the Emu.

We were seated along the east wall, in a cheek-by-jowl row of tables. Since the seating arrangements were bierstube style, one could scarcely avoid one's neighbors. I struck up a friendly conversation with the couple to our right about the young kids the table over who were violating the no cell phone policy with abandon ("My friends are taking me out for an expensive dinner!") The man called over the waiter and had the ill-mannered little hipster taken care of.

To our left were two heathers who spent the meal backstabbing friends ("She's fat! She's the most miserable person I know. She won't go on dates." "I told him, 'Just get married. It's stupid. You're so stubborn'") and furiously texting into their phones like kids with Game Boys.

The menu, besides listing the food and noting the ban on cell phones, also noted that the clothes were by Joseph Abboud. A restaurant with an official clothier? All part of The Blackbird Look.

I did not drink, so I cannot comment on the wine. I will advise that grapefruit juice and soda water looks vaguely sophisticated and alcoholic without being so.

For an appetizer, I ordered the antique gruyere cheese salad with comice pears, walnut praline, frisee, watercress, and apple saba. I got, well, a salad, with rectangles of cheese. It didn't come together into a coherent whole. Walnut praline is rocklike candy, strange in a salad.

My husband got the brandade stuffed squid with lucques olives, grilled bread, crunchy red peppers and arugula. This was very good. The squid was nice and tender, the presentation attractive. "Dang," I thought, "I should've gotten that."

I ordered the crispy arctic char with butternut squash, green grapes, black trumpets, pine nuts, and verjus. Again, passable. The presentation was so-so; the color palette was limited and the squash, grapes, trumpets and nuts were heaped atop the rectangle of fish, with only a circle of verjus to set off the entree. I'm not sure where the 'crispy' comes from, but the fish was tasty enough.

He got jamison farm lamb chops and shank 'cassoulet' (why in quotes?) with spring valley shell beans, thumbelina carrots, and braised endive, and, darnit, he came out ahead again. When lamb is good, it's great, and when it's bad, it's awful; in this case, it was great. The lamp chops were like butter. Mmm.

The dish arrived with the shank bones dramatically arranged in a V. It grabbed the attention of the tables to either side. "Your dinner has antlers," I remarked. "Wow! You have a big bone!" remarked one of the women to the left. We all laughed.

Service fell apart at dessert. It took forever, with several reminders, for my husband to get his coffee, and dessert took a very long time to arrive. I got the butterscotch pot de creme with fresh churros, scotch poached apples, and arrop , which redeemed the meal, although the apple pieces look like chickpeas. He got the five-sample selection of cheese, which was artfully presented. Coffee was good, not at all bitter.

Blackbird is on again, off again, according to reputation and our experience. When a dish is on, it's great, when it's off, it's good, but nothing spectacular. I wouldn't put it at the head of the list. Try Spring on North Avenue first.

The couple next to us, an attorney and caterer, were friendly and grew more so the more they drank. We enjoyed conversation with them throughout the meal. I got some tips on where to get the lowdown on new restaurants around town. The caterer remarked, "There's a big group of food industry people in the back, I know some of them, and recognize a lot of faces."

Oh, and we got a legal parking space across the street.

Blackbird

If your whimsy needs restoring

2005-12-31T21:29:02Z

to its pristine condition, visit Uncle Fun, 1338 W. Belmont, Chicago, IL.

The wisdom of spam

2005-12-31T20:57:33Z

Microsoft Localized Software.

Henry James created more convincing women than Iris Murdoch put together.
What is not fully understood is not possessed.
The art of progress is to preserve order amid change.
Use your enemy's hand to catch a snake.
Every sweet has its sour; every evil its good.
Who begins too much accomplishes little.

Moo & Oink

2005-12-31T20:53:15Z

rolled out the giant tub of chitlins to serve the long line of people waiting patiently to buy some.

There's a fellow

2005-12-31T20:50:41Z

name of Carlo whom I see around the neighborhood, doing martial arts in the park, feeding the pigeons, and bicycling down the alley, stopping at each dumpster to inspect its contents.

I saw Carlo working a dumpster as I unloaded the groceries. "Hi, Carlo."

"Hi there. How was your Christmas?"

"Okay," I said. "No complaints. How was yours?"

"Oh, every day Christmas for me."