No, Thank You, Thai Thank You

On a bleak, and colorless day, which happened to be today, I walked past far too many vacant storefronts, and "for lease" signs.

Amid the gray a mirage appeared in the distance.

It was bright orange, named simply "Thai Thank You"

It stopped me in my on-the-go, unemployed tracks. Ain't nothing was going to break my stride except something named Thai Thank You.

What could it mean? I wondered. Was this the "thank you for your business" message one usually gets on the plastic bag holding the doggy bag at the end of the meal? Was TTY already anticipating that the food would be so good you'd be thanking them, or was Thai Thank You thanking the-neighborhood-of-I'm-not-sure-I-think-it-was-just-south-of-Roscoe-Village-near-Wishbone for it's patronage?

I was so puzzled that if I hadn't of been on a pleasant walk, and en route to meeting a friend I would have walked in, and point blank asked, what does Thai Thank You mean?

Or would that be a mean thing to do?

Thank You, Thai Thank You for making me think too much. Isn't there a restaurant called Think? I wonder what Thai Thank You Thinks of Think. Maybe it's not enough of a statement? Think is kind of only suggesting thinking, which anyone can do. Not everyone has gratitude. Like Thai Thank You.

Excuses

In the tradition of only making fun of myself, and exaggerating everything to appear even more vain, and self-absorbed (the assignment was to write a sketch about a moral transgression, like vanity or sloth) than I already am, here goes:

“Excuses"
(version 1)

CAST
Hammy – 30s
Heather – 30s

(A classroom)

HAMMY
I’m sorry, I don’t have my homework this week.

HEATHER
You didn’t have it last week, either.

HAMMY
What should I do?

HEATHER
What do you think you should do?

HAMMY
I don’t know. I’m asking you!

HEATHER
It’s a comedy writing class.

HAMMY
I need structure.

HEATHER
Excuse me?

HAMMY
A routine! I’m not in any clubs, and I don’t have a job to go to, or anywhere to be, so this is healthy … It’s almost better when I don’t do my homework because I can listen to everyone else's, and feel better about myself because I know if I had done mine, it would be funnier than theirs.

HEATHER
That’s not funny. Or true.

HAMMY
Do you want to know the truth?

HEATHER
Do I have a choice?

HAMMY
All week long I thought about the homework. I thought about it WAY more than every single person in this class.

HEATHER
Thinking is not doing.

HAMMY
It was an inner conflict – over the homework. Not whether or not to do it, but why am I lacking the ability to do it when I have nothing but time on my side. I lost my job.

HEATHER
I know. You talk about it every week. And, when you do write a sketch it’s usually about not having a job, or a job interview, or the day you got laid off which you’ve replayed a bunch of times, both in sketches, and in monologues, so yeah we know.

HAMMY
I write about what I know!

HEATHER
It’s a pretty narrow world!

HAMMY
Are you trying to get me to quit?

HEATHER
No!

HAMMY
Because you have levels here, it’s like Scientology.

HEATHER
Do you think you’re the first one to have noticed that?

HAMMY
I want to come back, really, I do! I swear it’s good for me, and it keeps me from annoying everyone I know. I even had to create a new alter ego and give her her own blog because I felt like I was being too self absorbed for one person. That’s one of the things I was doing when I wasn’t doing my homework.

HEATHER
Are you…..uh….okay?

HAMMY
I think so. I hope so. I really, really hope so, because I don’t want to be crazy. Does it mean I’m crazy if I keep replaying the same thing again and again inside my head?

HEATHER
It depends. What are you “replaying?”

HAMMY
You. Your words! It’s something that you said last week.

HEATHER
What did I say?

HAMMY
You said, “If you’re going to be any sort of writer at all, you have to master inner conflict.”

HEATHER
It’s true.

HAMMY
You said in a mean tone, like a football coach! I have no inner conflicts, or if I do I haven’t “mastered” them, or the art of being your own worst enemy like Seinfeld and Larry David. You act like they both are demigods but they are really just extremely tortured people, and I’m guessing very sad on the inside.

HEATHER
But they’re geniuses. Seinfeld, and Larry David have no morals yet ironically they have some of the most extreme inner conflicts, so that’s something to think about as you think about not doing the homework assignments.

HAMMY
I do think about that. But I cannot watch Larry David. It’s painful. I think for some Jewish people watching them is like watching yourself, and I cringe instead of laugh, and I usually have to pee a lot, but that’s just because I have an very small bladder.

HEATHER
The size of a chickpea, yes we know. You’ve discussed that in your sketches, too.

HAMMY
Sorry.

HEATHER
I’m fed up with you, too. I’ve never tried to boot a student from my class, but I might look into it. It sounds like you might have inner conflict over this class. Could it have been sloth that kept you from doing this moral transgression assignment?

HAMMY
Sloth, like lazy? No, I am the least slothy person ever. I lost my job three months ago, but I’ve never once watched Oprah, and I’m usually up by 6:45 a.m., surfing the job boards. I wear make-up at my desk, sometimes business casual. Yesterday I tweezed my eyebrows for my cat, and I put on a bra for the People’s Energy guy when he came to check the meter, even though I had a hoodie on top of my t-shirt. I am so not lazy and non-sloth like that I’ve barely masturbated since I lost my job, and that’s not like me at all. Is that weird?

HEATHER
It’s weird you’re telling me this.

HAMMY
I’m sorry. Well I don’t know what this is. A rut? Writer’s block? It’s so cliché, isn’t it? Don’t you have to be a real writer to have writer’s block, though?

HEATHER
It can happen to anyone. Maybe your moral transgression is vanity.

HAMMY
Vanity? Me?

HEATHER
Maybe you care too much about whether or not what you write is funny and that makes you vain.

HAMMY
But, vanity implies self-love? If I didn’t hate blood so much I probably would have become a cutter years ago.

HEATHER
So, what is it? Why can’t you do the homework? Or, why don’t you at least attempt to step outside of yourself?

HAMMY
Step outside of myself? Like float, and look at myself from above, an aerial view, spying on myself, like a sniper?!

HEATHER
No!!! By stepping outside of yourself I mean looking at SOMETHING else, someone else, ANYONE else, take a bus, sit on a bench. OBSERVE people, but STOP LOOKING AT YOURSELF!

HAMMY
Jeez!! It’s almost like you’re accusing me of being an egomaniac, only writing about me, me, me, me, me!

HEATHER
I’m not accusing you of anything! I’m trying to help you.

HAMMY
Help me? You mean help me, as in help me to be funny? Isn’t that something you have, or you don’t, like HPV? How can you teach anyone to be funny? Isn’t that a tall order?

HEATHER
No, it isn’t. I can introduce you to tools, and principles of comedy, and basic themes, but it’s up to you to take it to the next level…AND to actually do your homework, and try to implement what I’m teaching you into your writings.

HAMMY
That makes sense, the way you said it.

HEATHER
Does that mean you’ll start doing your homework?

HAMMY
I’m going to think about it. I’m already thinking about thinking about next week’s homework.

HEATHER
Great. During break you can register for Level 3 in the office. You get $10 off if you pre-register.

HAMMY
What if I can’t afford it? Do you want to crush the soul of a single, unemployed person with chronic back pain who no longer has the desire to masturbate or do anything with any regularity except come here once each week?

HEATHER
We’re not a non-profit organization.

HAMMY
I’ll call my mom. She believes in me. And, she’s opted to get social security one year earlier, so I think if she starts taking half her arthritis pills instead of the full ones she can find a way to afford this class.

HEATHER
Guilting isn’t a moral transgression. It’s a comic ploy. We’re discussing that next.

HAMMY
Sweet.

Blackout

Dying, Dying, Dead?

Nobody's asking for my opinion, but if they did I'd say that I don't think it's possible for journalism to die. There's too many readers out there interested in what's happening in the world. Humans are hardwired to tell stories. Sharing stories is a way of sharing information, bridging gaps, and building community. Reporters are like the red-headed good witches of the world (see art by Paranoid Girl, KP)

Yet with that said, the Reader is getting skinnier, as is the Trib. Even the Sunday New York Times isn't as thick as it used to be. A classmate in my comedy writing class was recently laid off from a film critic job at a popular magazine, and among newspapers the layoffs keep mounting, and in some cases like the Chicago Journal, entire editions like the one covering my neighborhood have folded.

For newspaper fans like myself, perhaps not in the same age demographic Maureen Dowd speaks of in the linked column, below, this means I am spending less time pouring over the newspapers, because there's less to read.

Maybe it's paying for journalism that's the problem. Advertisers are tapped out, too, like everyone else. Isn't there another way to pay for it? Foundations, private investors, community groups, businesses? That cliche of "no news is good news" doesn't apply to the (actual) news.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/04/26/opinion/26dowd.html

the hoop, the hoop, the hoop was....

on fire,
and the hoopist (is that a word?) kept it moving in circles until the fires went out.
yay.

No Pie in Sky for Fired Pizza Hut Workers

Members of the Chicago Worker's Collaborative whom I encountered last month protesting "No Match" firings in front of a west Bucktown Pizza Hut will hit the streets again tomorrow, this time at the corner of Lake and Wabash where perhaps the rising number of unemployed citizens should gather in support of the protesters, and to intercept the pizzas before they hit the trash bins.

But that could be missing the point. To eat Pizza Hut's "pies of affliction" would be to support the exploitation, and firing of nearly 100 Latino workers at Chicago-land Pizza Huts whom were released from their jobs on account of no-match letters requesting clarification on social security number matches.

According to CWC organizer Leone Jose Bicchieri, workers will ask Pizza Hut to "Hold the Exploitation!" They will also pitch Pizza Hut pizzas into the garbage, and distribute hundreds of bi-lingual leaflets during the lunch hour protest.

The CWC is joined by The National Immigration Law Center (NILC), which has contacted the national corporate leadership of Pizza Hut to express concern about the recent firings of Latino workers. Other local organizations who are calling on Pizza Hut to stop the firing of Latino workers include the Latino Union, The 8th Day Justice Center, the Chicago New Sanctuary Movement, ARISE Chicago, UE Local 1110 (United Electrial Workers), and the Centro de Trabajadores Unidos (SE Chicago Worker Center).

For more info, contact: Chicago Workers' Collaborative, 773-655-0815, leonejb@prodigy.net

Chicago Reader, and Link to Tori Marlan's story
http://blogs.chicagoreader.com/chicagoland/2009/03/25/no-match-bogeyman-strikes-again/#comments_last

Video from last month's protest, below:

Squirrels Gone Wild

Pigeons and squirrels are fun to photograph, mainly because that's what a person living in the city can expect to see the most of, outside of dogs. Most dogs, however, are attached to a leash, which is attached to a person that might think you're weird if you take pictures of their dog, and post them on the Internet.

The last squirrel image is blurry, out of focus, and the tail is cut off, but I love the way the squirrel is hunched over. He kind of looks like he's deep in thought, or prayer.

Maybe Wearing Earbuds All the Time Isn't Such a Bad Idea

This happened yesterday evening, and I didn't write about it, though all three of these overheard conversations are still on my mind.

I was at Subway, eating, and this obnoxious man, and his young son walked in. He had the most nasal voice ever, and everything he said was neurotic, and repetitive. He was like a not funny Larry David, which is scary if you think about that.

The boy didn't want onions, but he accidentally got onions, and the father was like, "I'm sorry, is it the end of the world? So shoot me." He spoke aloud about he cannot believe the sandwich cost $8 (it was a footlong) and then he got on the topic of the following day's Earth Day.

He spoke with his son about how salmon is so good, but there will be none of it left soon, and other fish are disappearing, too. He actually used the word crap, and said that the Earth has gone to crap, and it is because of his generation, and the one before it, that there will be nothing left, and good luck, because it will be the job of his son, and his sons friend to save it, but it might be too late.

By then I was shaking in anger, biting my tongue as not to butt in on something not my business. My back was to this man, and his son, as they were sitting behind me, but I was almost hyperventilating inside, thinking who says that??? The boy was probably no more than five or six years old.

Prior to that man and son, a very hurried commercial real estate leasing guy had walked in, and he was on his cell phone the entire time, which is how I knew he's in real estate.

He was talking buddy buddy with someone that almost sounded like a friend, but then it became very clear it was a client on the other line.

They were talking sports before the guy shifted, and mentioned that they will need the new lease on June 1st. There was some talk, then a bit of a pause, where the guy said, "I'm so sorry."

As he's saying "I'm sorry," he's also saying which ingredients he wants on his sub. It became clear the guy on the other end of the line had lost his business, or lost something big, because he wouldn't be resigning in June.

Then, the guy on the phone says, "No, no they are sticklers. you'd have to be out on the first or by the first, sorry man, I'm so sorry."

At this point he really did sound sorry, and very shocked. He was still talking to the guy on the other end of the line, and gathering change from the Subway person behind the register at the same time.

So, I sat in Subway long enough to read the paper, and do my homework, thus I was naturally ready for a Twix bar from the gas station on the walk home. As I was looking at the candy bars, the gas station attendant behind the counter was being screamed at by a man who was saying that he was given the wrong scratch off ticket. I don't recall the name of the ticket because the names are always so absurd, but he was yelling something like, "I wanted a Lucky Egg Hunt Bonanza and you gave me an Egg Hunt Max. You didn't give me the right ticket!"

Of course it had only been AFTER he scratched the ticket, and lost, that he began his tirade against the gas station attendant, who was refusing to give him a free ticket over the apparent miscommunication, which had probably been a desperate ploy by a desperate person attempting to win big on a scratch off.

My Neighbor's 'Fetching' Cat

Oddly, this black cat looks like Salem, and plays fetch like Salem whom lives downstairs. I will be watching Salem again this weekend, yet I'm not sure if the cat in this video is my neighbor's Salem, or another person whom also owns a coal black cat that plays fetch, is named Salem, and is on YouTube.

Last night I showed my neighbors the lameass video of Koji interfering with the mop. They countered with a video of their cat fetching, which was posted somewhere that I can't remember, or else I'd post it. I'm sure I can ask her to send me the file of their cat playing fetch, but here is another Salem playing fetch that I just found via a stalker-esque search on the Internet of cats named Salem that play fetch... And, yes, it takes more talent to fetch than interfere with a mop.

Perhaps I can try to teach Koji how to play fetch this weekend, or he can learn from Salem. Koji can sort of play fetch, but he's not as skilled at it as Salem is. With time on our side, anything is possible!

A Cat's Life

Foot in Mouth Over the New Meters

Just a few days ago I made a comment on the Windy Citizen about how "maybe I'm old fashioned," but I prefer parking meters that take quarters vs. swiping a credit card, because psychologically I don't like using a credit card more than necessary.

Now that I've actually driven somewhere in the city, as I had to do today because I was running late, I'm retracting any nostalgia I've exhibited toward old-style meters.

In addition to swiping plastic, another thing not good for one's psyche is trusting someone to feed your meter while you're in a three hour class, and then returning during break to an expired meter, and a helper with bloodshot eyes, and booze on her breath playing dumb, as if your deal born on the street was something from way-back-when that she was trying to recall, though it had only been 90 minutes ago when she promised you that sure, she'll feed your meter.

Maybe it was understandable that MC took the money, despite the initial, extra $1 I gave her in pure profit, and the other $1 I promised her upon my return if the meter were fed. I had even been stressing about that other dollar during class, and thinking about how I'd have to break a $5 somewhere first to make sure I had the "thank you" $1 on hand.

The MC- (I call her MC because she's always standing in front of the door at the five, and dime near where the meter is located) saw the $2 worth of quarters, and the bonus $1 as an instant $3, whereas I was thinking that the $1 I'd give upon my return would be an incentive to feed the meter.

I guess the credit card boxes will be easier than tiny disappointments related to the human spirit. I was being naive. She was being poor, and thirsty. Bring on the boxes, please.

Saved by Febreeze

I'm unemployed, but not sure where the time goes, especially since I'm running on almost no sleep, and off to class... As usual I'm cursing toner, which is expensive. My no longer corporate sponsorship that occasional required me to sell things for them as a term of my employment provided a full-service print shop, which I miss on days like these, plus it forced me to get my homework done by Friday afternoon so I could maximize the facilities at work. Now, I'm coming clean about my abuse of company resources, oh the days of liberal printing of recipes, and endless MapQuest directions, too! Well, not coming totally clean. Sometimes you just have to Febreeze yourself, and hop the nearest bus. Oh, and bitch at your cat for constantly getting in the way of the computer, too.

Today's sketch was "Fair is Fair." It wasn't very funny, so it is back to the drawing board. Rewriting is my favorite part of writing, and according to some, rewriting IS writing, though the immediacy of blogging has in many ways created a permanency to writing that is dangerous.

Mongo Home, I'm Lusting You

There used to be a fitness apparel store at 1753 N. Damen. I went there in search of "yoga pants" once, laughed at an $84 price tag, and never went back.

A few weeks ago Mongo Home moved into the spot once occupied by breathable microfibers.

Though I can't afford anything in Mongo Home, either, it's my kind of spot. I could have a Miss Havisham style lock-in with my cat, and be okay, as in forever, and ever.

Slang for "a person that forages for discarded objects," mongo takes the mongo one step further, and creates a home for a mongo with very fine taste, and refurbishing skills. Some of the items on display looked like things I'd lusted after in alleys over the years, yet for whatever reason-- time, space, microscopic pathogens, three flights of stairs-- I never hauled home.

Since I don't have the means to be a real customer at the moment, or in the foreseeable near moment, I hung out for a bit in Mongo Home, which is an offshoot of Urban Remains, an architectural salvage company. I explained its owner that I'm kind of a neighborhood stray, but that I do have a home, and I now read tarot cards at caffe De Luca on Wednesday evenings, which secretly gives me an added sense of legitimacy. I ended up reading his tarot cards in Mongo Home, on a table that would've cost three months of salary when I had a job.

He drew the Strength card as his very first card. Strength is the one card out of 78 I chose to blog about earlier this morning. I thought that was interesting.

Tax Day Tarot is Tonight @ caffe De Luca

... because I can't walk dogs due to the tugging on my lower back....
.... b/c I have no coordination, can trip on air, and b/c even waitressing jobs are tough to find these days....
.... b/c I have yet to find a new full-time job that I can be passionate about, though I've been looking...
.... b/c I like people/RealSpace, and most of my contract jobs involve writing, and sitting in front of a screen, or on the phone
.... b/c there are not that many cool cafes left in the hood, and caffe De Luca** has been around almost 10 years....
.... b/c I am tired of talking/blogging about my selfish old unemployed self & want to do something fun like peer inside your cards, even if I am not a total "believer" in the ancient art of tarot reading.....
..... b/c it's free
.... b/c it's Fun, whether you are dubious (hecklers, those that see it as 'the Devil's work' etc. are all most welcome, and in fact encouraged to show their skeptical faces), or think there's merit in it, or are just plain curious.... or want to catch up b/c we haven't seen each other lately.... or whatever....

Hope to see you there!

** CDL is on the evil Facebook @ http://www.facebook.com/pages/North-Chicago-IL/Caffe-De-Luca/67233847263?ref=ts#/pages/North-Chicago-IL/Caffe-De-Luca/67233847263?v=photos&viewas=1600874983

Window Shopping in Wicker Park? Don't Forget Your Plastic

Maybe I'm hormonal, or have an affinity for old school parking meters that you can lock a bicycle up to, or just lean on, but I felt heavier in spirit on the walk home from the library last night, as I noticed the new, computerized parking boxes that were a hot topic at the evening's Wicker Park SSA #33 meeting, especially since some of the commissioners in attendance own businesses in Wicker Park/Bucktown, which is one of the first neighborhoods to undergo the transition to the new system.

If a business wants to remove a metered spot to create a loading zone it has to pay the private company that runs the meters for 75 years worth of revenue that the space would otherwise yield if it were a pay-to-park spot.

If it's a holiday, or a Sunday afternoon, the boxes don't know the difference. You still pay between the hours of 8 am and 9 pm.

If you prefer to not use a credit card as much as possible, as I do, you still have to swipe your plastic if you plan to park in Wicker Park. The diction at the top left of the box says, "Thank you for parking," and not "Thank you for your business." If you have a car, and need to park, do you have a choice not to park? Can two tons of steel levitate? In 75 years that might be possible....

Though I walk unless I'm running late, I wonder how the boxes will affect tourism, and shoppers, or anyone needing to run a quick errand, and pop into a local store for a few minutes. And, as with every independent shop closing the neighborhood loses a bit more of the bohemia it's known for, I can't imagine the computerized boxes helping Wicker Park preserve its image that differentiates it from other hoods, unless maybe an intrepid artistic group wants to take all the pulled, old school meters, and create a some sort of homage, or "meter graveyard" in Mautene Court, a vacant lot at 1256 -58 N. Milwaukee near Tocco that was until April 6th soliciting RFPs for a temporary installation, though no word yet on what will transpire there. Yoga in the park? Hula hooping? Performance art? Ah, the possibilities...

Link to info on Mautene Court: http://wickerparkbucktownssa.org/?p=443

More on Mautene Court: http://www.summitdb.com/announcements/news-archive/july-2008---selected-general-contractor-for-tocco.aspx

Uncle A's Metal Detector

Yesterday, Uncle A. went on a walk by himself. He took along his new gadget, a computerized E-Trac metal detector, which can locate precious metals up to 15-inches beneath the ground's surface.

My aunt told my mom that UA was off to the park, and my mom asked if it was the one at the end of the street with all the playground equipment, because that's not actually a park... It's the yard for a nearby church, and the house in front of it belongs to a pastor.

The playground was deserted (maybe Easter services were over?), and no one ran out of the house, according to UA. He didn't find anything, either, though the men in his club, the Midwest Historical Research Society, have told him it takes time, and patience to find the good stuff, like a $20,000 ring recently recovered near Oak Street Beach. A club member tracked down the ring's owner through the jeweler, and received a $3,000 reward. (Other finds haven't ended as happily, though. A contractor in Ohio completing repairs on a home uncovered $182,000 in Civil War era coins, and is currently enmeshed in a law suit with the property owners, according to an article in Western & Eastern treasures, an industry magazine that Uncle A. loaned me to better understand his new hobby).

The E-track is $1200. It's something Uncle A has talked about buying for a few years, much to the dismay of my aunt who fears she'll become a beach comber's widow, and never see him again.

Here's a video of my aunt's side, and his.

Table Talk

In a recent survey, 98% of dogs, and cats prefer the table trunk. The lower-to-the-floor height of this exciting trunk turned table makes access to plates much easier for four-legged friends. The grooves of the table trunk are perfect for tipping drinks, too. Need a place to store your table linens? Look no further than inside the table trunk-- just make sure there is nothing on the table first.

Good Times, and an Illustrated Guide to the Alys

A fun time was had by all last night, well kind of, if you consider inviting someone over for dinner when the only table you have to eat it on is a broken down trunk, and when you put placemats on the trunk you got at a garage sale many years ago your cat thinks it is just another place to fall asleep on, and instead of going to the concert like you intended to you fall asleep on your guest as he asks you about your day, and based on the amount of things you did in proportion to the amount of sleep you didn't have he diagnoses you as manic because his mother is a shrink and he knows these things and you are already falling asleep but in your dreams you are asking him tell me something I don't already know, okay?

As for the new Aly "alter ego," there's understandably been a lot of questions of late, from friends, and skeptics alike. Just to get all the Alys straight, the Aly that writes the GONE blog is an unemployed 33-year old with six years of sales experience, and six years of writing experience, and trying to answer that burning what-do-you-want-to-do-with-your-life question, which plagues her to varying degrees depending on the day, and how well the job search is going. Aly Hensler is still safely stalking Jared Fogel the Subway Guy from the comfort of her home, and sending him pre-driven unmentionables in envelopes covered with Hello Kitty stickers, but only in the world of sketch comedy, and in blogs, as she is too exhausted to walk to the post office, plus she knows that cliche "be careful what you wish for" sometimes comes true, and she's terrified of the "Power of Love," and what could happen if Jared returns her affections, thus safer to keep it all confined to her public MySpace page. Aly DeLuca is a "brand ambassador leveraging the power of social media, and free channels to help promote local, independently owned businesses." Aly DeLuca will read tarot cards one evening each week at caffe De Luca, or possibly more depending on demand, or less, too.

Before the phrase 'brand ambassador' makes you reach for the nearest barf bag (do airlines still offer these?), please note that Aly is not pimping herself out to Old Navy or Applebee's, but instead to independent, locally owned businesses.

Aly whom writes the GONE blog, Aly whom stalks Jared, and Aly that reads tarot cards for a local cafe are all pictured here. There is another Aly, too, and if you are a business owner, or live in Wicker Park Bucktown and aren't already subscribed to the Street Scene newsletter feel free to get in touch, or send along your business/store blogs, events, job listings (for chamber members only), and anything else you want to share.

Aly that reads tarot cards hopes to see you @ caffe De Luca at 1721 N. Damen on TAX DAY, April 15th from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. Find the caffe De Luca page on Facebook to receive more info on this event, as well as a new photo album of neighborhood shops, and places you can visit before or after caffe De Luca.

Happy Saturday to All.

Gone to the Dogs

B. is out of town, so S. and I went to the Wicker Park dog park with B's dog, Lexi.

It smelled like a zoo. I don't understand dog park culture, either. Give me a book, a cat on my lap, and a litter box any day- none of this messing with plastic poop bags, oohing, and ahhing over all the dogs, and chit chatting with the other dog owners, who remind me of the doting parents at the other end of the park, where the playground is.

The dogs, however, seemed to have fun with each other.