Beauty in Beaches

As long as beaches are clean, they are gorgeous.  Any beach, any location, and even in any season, just as long as they are all clean.  There is beauty in the sand and ripples of the waves.

In Chicago, there is also fear.  People die in the water every week, and twice a week in the summer. It's a reason to not read the Chicago Tribune, they put every death on the front page of the website.  The water must be respected or else it will kill.

Maybe people should judge it.  Maybe we should let it contribute to campaigns like corporations. Or maybe, just maybe, this beauty that calms the soul should also be respected for the deadly creature it is.

Wine in the Purse

Maybe an evening that starts off with a bottle of wine in a purse on a bus must result in fleeting fun.

 I felt shameful for carrying my alcohol in such a public manner.  It was like a reverse walk of shame, everyone who noticed my purse would know what kind of trouble I was headed for that evening.  They could know and judge as I went off to my fun.

My purse can hold a bottle of wine, but thankfully not two...and yes, it was fleeting fun. 

Riding in the Rain

Adjusting to the weather requires skills I lack.  These skills involve watching the weather forecast, reading the weather, looking at weather maps, and even standing outside to look at the sky.  I have other skills but just not these.

So today, I got caught in the rain on my bike.  It was a lovely ride in the cold downpour.  Maybe I need to take weather classes?

Random Conversations

These types of conversations make me happy.  I classify random conversations when you talk to strangers (as I was taught specifically not to do) about a situation in front of both of you.  Today, I talked with a lost businessman about the wonders of Google map and two people on the train about my bag.

There is something uplifting about knowing that we are all human and can relate of both big and small issues, or even the wonders of Google.

Panhandling on the CTA

This is a rarity for me.  A guy gets on the train and starts to plead is case for needing money.  Dad is  drunk, they got into a fight, he's been living on the Blue line and needs a ticket to Rockford.  The ticket costs $18.  Thank you.

Today was the first day I ever had this happen.  At first, I looks away and thought about putting in my ear buds, but didn't.  Then, I thought about how I was a good person and he could actually be a person in need.  Then, I thought about what organizations can help him.  Then, I thought about how I didn't really want to be a part of his life in any way.  And finally, I decided that the karma good I might get out of a $1 was worth the risk that his story was a lie and a scam.  My dollar went into his hands.

Hours later, I meet a friend at an event.  We are talking about our day and the CTA, which trains are better, frustrations over rush hour, methods of getting a good place, and then the Rockford ticket guy came up.  She met him too.  She didn't give him money.  She felt bad.  She has seen him four times.

Four times?  During the five encounters at our table, he should have had the money to get to Rockford.  We laughed and bonded a little about being part of a scam, she resisting the bait of karma and me not.

Loose Key

I have a loose brackets key. I have to think hard to remember what the name of the key is. Luckily I do not use it much. The key has been loose for over a year - thank you to the cat who loosened it for me. She thought the keyboard made a nice scratching post. Her claws were getting long. Thus, I have a loose brackets key.

Shopping Finds

My shopping therapy does not involve excessive buys, the latest trends nor searches for sales. It involves the search through thrift stores for the golden finds.

At regular stores, it is normal to find your size and the right shade of color, especially in shirts. The stores help shoppers make choices by displaying maniquins or pictures of great clothing combinations and the staff spend their days looking at clothing and are eager to point out good fits. Especially in boutiques, the staff will pick out options and even be honest about what looks good. People who are "experts" in shopping are like runners on treadmills, sure they can go the mileage but they don't compare to a high altitude trail runner.

Thrift stores are the high altitude trail runners without shoes. Maybe, the shopper will be lucky and find the clothing arranged by type, size, and color. Maybe there will be a dressing room. Maybe the dressing room will be more than a booth with a cloth shower curtain that is large enough to set your bag down.

Employees at these stores are utilitarian, put out stock and ring up the cash register. They aren't paid for fashion consciousness, the shopper must bring it. Nothing can be ordered nor does it come in various sizes. Go to a thrift shop for an outfit and be ready to use skills of selection and coordination.

But the prize of a thrift store find can be worth it. A full outfit can be purchased for pennies on the dollar of a retail shop and the style ends up completely personalized. Originality comes at the price of time and effort.

Plus it's more environmental.

Music on the CTA

Chicago is a blessed city. It has a public transportation system that actually works, not just an effort to have one. Using this system, no one really needs to own a car. In the city, the system is called the CTA.

On the CTA today, I felt the pains of youth. I felt them because a fellow driver was in the throngs of it. She had her Ipod playing club music and a tatoo of a raven on her writst. I know this because I heard her music and saw her wrist. The Ipod was turned up so loud that everyone in the card could enjoy her music...

She didn't notice the volume escaping her earbuds. Her concerns were over the puff in her lips and replies to her text. Her mood followed the music and none of it reflected the scorn in her seat mate nor the humor in my dancing to her music. O, to be young again and not care but for the text of a boy...

Packing

Dear Luggage,

You always fail me when I need you. Why can you not be the right size? One piece is too large, and the other too small. I feel like Goldilocks.

I understand the strain. Sometimes, I act out and put you on several planes, handled by rough people who stab stickers on you. And then other times, I ignore you for months, even years. It is scary in the attic and the mice... lets not talk about what mice did nor a friend's cat. She didn't mean it and I apologized.

Please luggage, I know we can turn our relationship around. I think we can work it out. If you would just learn to pack yourself, I can try to be more consistent with my trips. We can make this work.

You already know my clothes. You understand what I pack and use. You also see what I pack and don't use. If we start communicating better, both of us will have a better time.

The next trip is coming soon and I want us to be ready, together.

Love

Your Owner

My Cat and Me

I moved my cat across an ocean. Unfortunately, she is finally getting comfortable with it. This means that cat is back to her usual routines.

To my cat, the day is for sleeping. The warning bells should have gone off, sleep during the day equals play at night. My bells did not ring loud enough for me to wake her up so I had to suffer the consequences. When I need to sleep, she is ready to play.

The other issue is that she is adjusting to a new home and new people. The sounds and movement of several people in a large, new space freak her out. In my room, she is comfortable. It is smaller, full of my smell, and usually only the familiar presence of me occupies it. Her normal personality comes out in this space.

This morning, the combination of daytime sleeping, comfort in her new space, and usual routines came together in a bad way. At 5 am, she was up. I know this because she woke me up. It is hard to sleep with a cat running over your body, repeatedly. She was making spastic laps around my room. Attack dirty laundry, check out the window, try to claw a suitcase, get yelled at, up on the bedside table, run over me, attack lumps in the comforter that move, off the bed, and back to the dirty laundry. It was great circuit training for her and bad sleep for me.

Finally, I kicked her out and got some sleep. Her timeout worked and she returned and was ready to sleep, just as I needed to get up. I hope I can break her of this routine.