Window Repair, Continued
Liz had a busy day of errands today. In the midst of things, she stopped by next door to finalize some window repair, for our neighbor Carol Jean.
Liz had a busy day of errands today. In the midst of things, she stopped by next door to finalize some window repair, for our neighbor Carol Jean.
I’m used to there being rabbits in our backyard (I have a feeling they know our house is a bunny house). But it still throws me, to see rabbits being so bold, walking down the streets late at night.
A pretty big fallen limb, which would have been a sight to behold as it fell.
I thought there might have been some stronger winds that day… but I didn’t notice anything (I was inside, on a computer all day). But apparently… we got some weather.
In a silly turn of events, while we were having new windows installed at our house, Liz was over at our neighbor’s house, helping to repair a window.
So here we are with our martinis. And a small appetizer of french fries. Granted, they’re made with truffle oil and parsley, so they’re fancy fries? A little high brow, a little low brow – a nice combination for us.
A pretty serious fog took over Chicago today, particularly close to the lake. Worth noting: this fog would stick around for the next two days, making any walk outside a bit eerie, and a bit more shrouded in mystery.
When we first moved to Hyde Park in 2014, it was Bernie who came over to our house and presented us with some home baked bread that Carol Jean had made for us. Their gift was one of our first interactions with the neighbors on our block, and it set the tone for all the other kind and lovely people we would meet, from our street.
A few days ago, several of us on the block were concerned at the appearance of some random pellets that appeared along the West side of the street. We didn’t know if it was food or possibly poison, and out of an abundance of caution decided to work collectively to sweep things up.
While I was outside doing some yard work, I ventured over… and took a look. It was odd, in that the pellets were only on the West side of the street (and not on the East side). It also seemed to start and stop between a set number of houses, and didn’t extend the entire, full block.
Each year, we knock on the door – and each year, Mark opens the door and has a quizzical look on his face. And then as we stand there for a beat or two, it registers why we’re there and you see his palm rush up to his forehead. It’s a great tradition, and something Liz and I both enjoy tremendously.
This morning, we heard the same sound again. A kind of low wailing, almost as though it were calling out for people. I was able to pinpoint the sound, and got a photo of a cat sitting on our back porch.
During the service, I learned that Bernie encountered Rockefeller Chapel when he was seventeen years old, hitchhiking from North Dakota to Michigan for a summer job. The sight of the chapel left “an indelible mark” on him, and he returned to the University of Chicago to study… and to eventually serve as the chapel’s Dean, many years later.
We got some screams, which was fantastic. And we even got several folks who outright refused to put their hands in, and said “It’s not worth it.”
Something happened to me today. I was browsing Instagram, and I saw a photo from my friend Betsy. And I looked a little closer at this photo, and I was taken aback.
If you’ll indulge me, I’d like to recreate for you the experience I had. Stay with me here.
Liz tried at least 20 different Italian restaurants, and nearly every place was booked. Again, we waited too long to try ot get reservations… as everyone and their mother was intent on carbo-loading the night before the race. So of course, every Italian joint was fully booked up.
We ended up getting reservations at a local restaurant, Nella in Hyde Park.