Prairie Landing
Monday, February 21, 2005
What's great about the condo
Since you asked, and since I like to make lists:
1. I already mentioned the great commute. But it is sooo much better for poor train-crossed Colliculus. And a little bit better for me.
2. It's in an awesome neighborhood. Possibly the best neighborhood in America. You might think I'm exaggerating but I'm not. It's quiet and leafy and happening at the same time. (Before the Monsignor pipes up, I'll admit that his hood might be equally rad, but it has a longer commute.)
2a. It has 3 superb beergardens within a 10-minute walk.
2b. It's also within a 10-minute walk of the "European" grocery store, the regular grocery store, the Whole Foods, and the liquor castle/catacombs.
2c. Also the intersection where you go to buy cheap shoes and used CDs.
2d. Also the L stop that goes everywhere (Belmont).
3. It has 2 small decks, one of which has a skyline view, when it's not overcast like it was the day we took this picture.
The other deck, you won't get rained on!
4. It has hardwood floors downstairs and berber carpet upstairs. I know wall-to-wall carpet is tres unfashionable, but I really like it in the bedroom so that's just what I wanted.
5. It has a downstairs and an upstairs.
6. It has a 130-year-old mantelpiece and a working fireplace.
7. The bedrooms have skylights and crazy cool beams and slanty ceilings.
8. In-unit laundry (Colliculus's favorite) and a decent amount of closets (mine, but Colliculus is the real beneficiary since right now his closet is a corner capped with a door).
9. A garage that does not allow rain or snow to come through the roof, unlike our current garage.
10. No Cubs.
So yeah, there are some problems and some weird things about the layout, like no bathroom or closet in the master bedroom. Also the kitchen and bathrooms were designed back when plaid flannel was still in style. But that's all A-OK, because otherwise there's no way in hell we'd be able to afford this place.
1. I already mentioned the great commute. But it is sooo much better for poor train-crossed Colliculus. And a little bit better for me.
2. It's in an awesome neighborhood. Possibly the best neighborhood in America. You might think I'm exaggerating but I'm not. It's quiet and leafy and happening at the same time. (Before the Monsignor pipes up, I'll admit that his hood might be equally rad, but it has a longer commute.)
2a. It has 3 superb beergardens within a 10-minute walk.
2b. It's also within a 10-minute walk of the "European" grocery store, the regular grocery store, the Whole Foods, and the liquor castle/catacombs.
2c. Also the intersection where you go to buy cheap shoes and used CDs.
2d. Also the L stop that goes everywhere (Belmont).
3. It has 2 small decks, one of which has a skyline view, when it's not overcast like it was the day we took this picture.
The other deck, you won't get rained on!
4. It has hardwood floors downstairs and berber carpet upstairs. I know wall-to-wall carpet is tres unfashionable, but I really like it in the bedroom so that's just what I wanted.
5. It has a downstairs and an upstairs.
6. It has a 130-year-old mantelpiece and a working fireplace.
7. The bedrooms have skylights and crazy cool beams and slanty ceilings.
8. In-unit laundry (Colliculus's favorite) and a decent amount of closets (mine, but Colliculus is the real beneficiary since right now his closet is a corner capped with a door).
9. A garage that does not allow rain or snow to come through the roof, unlike our current garage.
10. No Cubs.
So yeah, there are some problems and some weird things about the layout, like no bathroom or closet in the master bedroom. Also the kitchen and bathrooms were designed back when plaid flannel was still in style. But that's all A-OK, because otherwise there's no way in hell we'd be able to afford this place.
Friday, February 18, 2005
At work I took a class on writing, about an hour of which was devoted to grammar.
The instructor passed out a sheet listing the 8 parts of speech, plus some finer points about verbs. The guy next to me, who the instructor kept calling by my name, asked, "Do you think we in America have problems with grammar because we speak American but write English?" I think he was serious.
Next the instructor asked everyone to define the parts of speech. The class did OK with noun. Also verb. With adjective there was general agreement though not a word-for-word shared definition. But after that, all bets were off. Adverb? "Any word that ends in ly." I was the only one who could define a preposition, and by the time we got to transitive and intransitive verbs the entire class was looking at me like I was possessed by a 19th-century demon. They all took detailed notes.
After class, the instructor held me back to ask where I went to school. I told her the name of my college. Maybe she was expecting me to say Europe or something, because that obviously didn't shed any light.
A couple of hours later, I ran into someone in the bathroom who expressed amazement at my knowledge of grammar and said she'd had to study up back when she thought she was going to be a high school English teacher. She graduated from high school in '98 and had never been taught any grammar. So maybe that's why I knew and nobody else did -- they were all younger than me.
The instructor passed out a sheet listing the 8 parts of speech, plus some finer points about verbs. The guy next to me, who the instructor kept calling by my name, asked, "Do you think we in America have problems with grammar because we speak American but write English?" I think he was serious.
Next the instructor asked everyone to define the parts of speech. The class did OK with noun. Also verb. With adjective there was general agreement though not a word-for-word shared definition. But after that, all bets were off. Adverb? "Any word that ends in ly." I was the only one who could define a preposition, and by the time we got to transitive and intransitive verbs the entire class was looking at me like I was possessed by a 19th-century demon. They all took detailed notes.
After class, the instructor held me back to ask where I went to school. I told her the name of my college. Maybe she was expecting me to say Europe or something, because that obviously didn't shed any light.
A couple of hours later, I ran into someone in the bathroom who expressed amazement at my knowledge of grammar and said she'd had to study up back when she thought she was going to be a high school English teacher. She graduated from high school in '98 and had never been taught any grammar. So maybe that's why I knew and nobody else did -- they were all younger than me.
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Update
We got our condo. It was sort of a struggle, and I'm sort of pissed off at the seller, but I think she's pissed off at us too so maybe that means we got a fair deal.
Here's why I'm pissed off. Last Monday we did the inspection. A number of things were wrong with the house. Probably that happens with most condos that were rehabbed 14 years ago, I don't know, but some of this stuff was ridiculous. Item 1 for your consideration: The decks, which don't have enough bolts fastening them to the wall. In this here Chi-town we like our decks securely attached. Item 2: Someone, the developer I assume, had the brilliant idea to install the furnace and hot water heater in a bathroom closet. Does this sound legal to you? No? Not surprisingly, it doesn't to the inspector, the city, or the gas company either. There's some other half-ass shit along these lines. Plus the furnace, A/C and roof are all on their way out.
Meanwhile, during the inspection, the seller's realtor is encouraging us to make an offer on her belongings -- "She's just looking to unload a few things," he says when I ask if she's moving out of the country -- and otherwise emphasizing her dire poverty. Afterwards, he tells our realtor that he meant to write the contract to say she's selling the house "as is." Which is a bunch of crap.
Then the seller leaves the country, telling no one, so our lawyers have to extend the contract review period. Then the seller gets back and tells us we can either pay for all of the repairs ourselves or the deal's off. I was half tempted to say "Screw you, your place was on the market for 4 months and you're lucky you haven't died of CO poisoning in your bathroom yet," but we decided it wasn't worth it.
So hooray! As of the Ides of March, we have a condo! If you want pictures, email me.
A second, less happy update is that I'm back on the wagon again. My neurologist says the non-drinking thing wasn't an experiment, it was more like a controlled environment in which to test all the other things. Now I'm way, way more concerned that one of these headache treatments should work. Before I didn't care if it took a year, but now I'm 100% business, asking him, "Six weeks till my next appointment? Sounds like five will be plenty," and so on. Argh. I will say that I am OFF the wagon when I go to New York for the March Mega Birthday Party. If you're reading this and want to come to this party in NYC, email me. Ianqui said I could invite friends!
Here's why I'm pissed off. Last Monday we did the inspection. A number of things were wrong with the house. Probably that happens with most condos that were rehabbed 14 years ago, I don't know, but some of this stuff was ridiculous. Item 1 for your consideration: The decks, which don't have enough bolts fastening them to the wall. In this here Chi-town we like our decks securely attached. Item 2: Someone, the developer I assume, had the brilliant idea to install the furnace and hot water heater in a bathroom closet. Does this sound legal to you? No? Not surprisingly, it doesn't to the inspector, the city, or the gas company either. There's some other half-ass shit along these lines. Plus the furnace, A/C and roof are all on their way out.
Meanwhile, during the inspection, the seller's realtor is encouraging us to make an offer on her belongings -- "She's just looking to unload a few things," he says when I ask if she's moving out of the country -- and otherwise emphasizing her dire poverty. Afterwards, he tells our realtor that he meant to write the contract to say she's selling the house "as is." Which is a bunch of crap.
Then the seller leaves the country, telling no one, so our lawyers have to extend the contract review period. Then the seller gets back and tells us we can either pay for all of the repairs ourselves or the deal's off. I was half tempted to say "Screw you, your place was on the market for 4 months and you're lucky you haven't died of CO poisoning in your bathroom yet," but we decided it wasn't worth it.
So hooray! As of the Ides of March, we have a condo! If you want pictures, email me.
A second, less happy update is that I'm back on the wagon again. My neurologist says the non-drinking thing wasn't an experiment, it was more like a controlled environment in which to test all the other things. Now I'm way, way more concerned that one of these headache treatments should work. Before I didn't care if it took a year, but now I'm 100% business, asking him, "Six weeks till my next appointment? Sounds like five will be plenty," and so on. Argh. I will say that I am OFF the wagon when I go to New York for the March Mega Birthday Party. If you're reading this and want to come to this party in NYC, email me. Ianqui said I could invite friends!
Sunday, February 06, 2005
Two L stories
Story #1: Gross
There's a really fat, really crazy woman who takes up two seats and covers herself with a big dirty quilt. She smells awful and gibbers to herself. Every so often she clears her throat or coughs or something and it's so loud everyone on the car jumps, even at rush hour. I mean it'll really scare the shit out of you if you're sitting near her. One time it was clear from the sound of things that she'd coughed up something really big. I looked over and saw her slowly finger-painting on the window with it.
Story #2: Eerie
When I take the train home from school at night, there are usually some DePaul students coming home from their downtown performances. You can tell by their bulky instruments, unceasing cell phone conversations, or evidence that they were just on a stage, such as their ability to make their voices carry throughout the car when they shout random lines at each other or the "audience."
Two students were sitting behind me singing to each other. Their voices were soft but powerful - obviously trained, not like if I were singing a song to somebody. I was like, "Prima donnas," but it didn't really bother me since it was quiet and I just kept on reading. But their duet was impossible to ignore. It was intricate, in a minor key, and went on and on. They sung it just above a whisper but intensely, and so close to my ears, I got shivers. I only pretended to read about rheumatoid arthritis until we got to the DePaul stop. They got off and I heard from outside a final operatic holler from the guy.
***
We picked our condo primarily on the basis of its location relative to the L. Sometimes now I walk down (or up) the stairs to the train and I'm just amazed that something so prosaic could be worth so much money to me.
Story #1: Gross
There's a really fat, really crazy woman who takes up two seats and covers herself with a big dirty quilt. She smells awful and gibbers to herself. Every so often she clears her throat or coughs or something and it's so loud everyone on the car jumps, even at rush hour. I mean it'll really scare the shit out of you if you're sitting near her. One time it was clear from the sound of things that she'd coughed up something really big. I looked over and saw her slowly finger-painting on the window with it.
Story #2: Eerie
When I take the train home from school at night, there are usually some DePaul students coming home from their downtown performances. You can tell by their bulky instruments, unceasing cell phone conversations, or evidence that they were just on a stage, such as their ability to make their voices carry throughout the car when they shout random lines at each other or the "audience."
Two students were sitting behind me singing to each other. Their voices were soft but powerful - obviously trained, not like if I were singing a song to somebody. I was like, "Prima donnas," but it didn't really bother me since it was quiet and I just kept on reading. But their duet was impossible to ignore. It was intricate, in a minor key, and went on and on. They sung it just above a whisper but intensely, and so close to my ears, I got shivers. I only pretended to read about rheumatoid arthritis until we got to the DePaul stop. They got off and I heard from outside a final operatic holler from the guy.
***
We picked our condo primarily on the basis of its location relative to the L. Sometimes now I walk down (or up) the stairs to the train and I'm just amazed that something so prosaic could be worth so much money to me.
Thursday, February 03, 2005
Cranky as she goes
Two months ago I gave up caffeine and wine and set my alcohol limit at 2 or 3 drinks a night. Then, four weeks ago, I quit alcohol completely. At this point I feel lucky the Mormons haven't come by in the Teetotal Wagon to take me to Provo.
Sobriety has been an educational experience, one I'd like to share in the hope that others never have to go through it. Here are some things I've learned about drinking and sobriety:
1. Driving home at 3 a.m. is challenging even when you haven't been drinking.
2. Office holiday parties are a minefield for indiscreet comments, overly enthusiastic public dancing, and next-day regret, even when you haven't been drinking.
3. Parties and dance clubs are 99% as much fun sober as not -- at least until about 1 o'clock when everyone else is too drunk to relate to anymore. Concerts, maybe 75%.
4. Bars are the dullest human institutions there are. Especially the bars I go to.
5. Not drinking is kind of like dieting. At first it's fine. You feel good, clean, like your body's absorbing all the health you're providing.
6. Then you try and compensate. In my case I go out to dinner and brunch, with predictable side effects that far outweigh (heh) the caloric benefits of avoiding alcohol.
7. Then you get pissy and resentful about your martyrdom, realize you're unfit human company, and start watching movies and blogging.
8. Being able to drive home in a warm car at 3 a.m. in January is absolute bliss.
9. Being the Station Wagon Mom for all your drunk-ass friends is gratifying -- at least initially.
Here is what I learned about drinking and headaches: They actually don't have much to do with one another. Thank Cthulu for His many-armed blessings.
Sobriety has been an educational experience, one I'd like to share in the hope that others never have to go through it. Here are some things I've learned about drinking and sobriety:
1. Driving home at 3 a.m. is challenging even when you haven't been drinking.
2. Office holiday parties are a minefield for indiscreet comments, overly enthusiastic public dancing, and next-day regret, even when you haven't been drinking.
3. Parties and dance clubs are 99% as much fun sober as not -- at least until about 1 o'clock when everyone else is too drunk to relate to anymore. Concerts, maybe 75%.
4. Bars are the dullest human institutions there are. Especially the bars I go to.
5. Not drinking is kind of like dieting. At first it's fine. You feel good, clean, like your body's absorbing all the health you're providing.
6. Then you try and compensate. In my case I go out to dinner and brunch, with predictable side effects that far outweigh (heh) the caloric benefits of avoiding alcohol.
7. Then you get pissy and resentful about your martyrdom, realize you're unfit human company, and start watching movies and blogging.
8. Being able to drive home in a warm car at 3 a.m. in January is absolute bliss.
9. Being the Station Wagon Mom for all your drunk-ass friends is gratifying -- at least initially.
Here is what I learned about drinking and headaches: They actually don't have much to do with one another. Thank Cthulu for His many-armed blessings.
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
Why I've lost any sense of the world outside of a 7-mile strip along Lake Michigan
UPDATE: Looks like we got our condo. Now, onto the wild world of home inspections, attorneys, and closing costs. Ho-moaners we shall be!!
Since New Year's I have (or we have):
1. Started another marketing class that meets two nights a week
2. Hosted 3 weekends of houseguests
3. Gotten preapproved for a mortgage, found a realtor, looked at a bunch of condos and bid on one
4. Become responsible for 2 new diseases at work since one of my coworkers quit (They're totally gross and horrific too; here are some photos)
Also the following tasks which take up energy but not time:
1. Brandishing the golf umbrella
2. Not drinking - which merits discussion in a future post; don't worry, it will all be over before redrum redrum
I hope we get the condo. Technically money, not hope, is the operative factor there, but I don't want to pay much more than we bid so that's where the hope comes in. It's in a fun neighborhood a little bit south of here with no baseball fans. It has two small decks and lots of closets.
One interesting thing we learned while house-hunting: Almost everyone has better stuff than us. At one point, I for one felt proud of our furniture. I guess that was four or five years ago when we lived in Baltimore. Since then, we pretty much stopped upgrading. Other than some nice things my dad built, all our stuff is hand-me-downs from the '80s and Ikea, some of it hideous. Hideous!
I also learned we're supposed to have framed clippings, mirrors, bulletin boards, etc. boasting of our schools' athletic prowess. Colliculus's alma mater of Hotpants won't do the job, but mine would be OK and the place he teaches now would probably cut the mustard as well. We'll just have to see what's in the budget after the mortgage gets paid.
Since New Year's I have (or we have):
1. Started another marketing class that meets two nights a week
2. Hosted 3 weekends of houseguests
3. Gotten preapproved for a mortgage, found a realtor, looked at a bunch of condos and bid on one
4. Become responsible for 2 new diseases at work since one of my coworkers quit (They're totally gross and horrific too; here are some photos)
Also the following tasks which take up energy but not time:
1. Brandishing the golf umbrella
2. Not drinking - which merits discussion in a future post; don't worry, it will all be over before redrum redrum
I hope we get the condo. Technically money, not hope, is the operative factor there, but I don't want to pay much more than we bid so that's where the hope comes in. It's in a fun neighborhood a little bit south of here with no baseball fans. It has two small decks and lots of closets.
One interesting thing we learned while house-hunting: Almost everyone has better stuff than us. At one point, I for one felt proud of our furniture. I guess that was four or five years ago when we lived in Baltimore. Since then, we pretty much stopped upgrading. Other than some nice things my dad built, all our stuff is hand-me-downs from the '80s and Ikea, some of it hideous. Hideous!
I also learned we're supposed to have framed clippings, mirrors, bulletin boards, etc. boasting of our schools' athletic prowess. Colliculus's alma mater of Hotpants won't do the job, but mine would be OK and the place he teaches now would probably cut the mustard as well. We'll just have to see what's in the budget after the mortgage gets paid.
