Hot Ham And Rolls

What an awesome Milwaukee Sunday tradition. I remember growing up and going to a little European deli near our house called Gerry O'Brian's where we'd buy hot ham and rolls. It sounds kind of chic, but it was actually a fairly shabby place. The owner, who alternately worked the deli counter and cash register, had a glorious British accent.

This morning Ryan came to mass with me at St. Mary's in Hales Corners, marking the first time we've attended together. Afterwards we drove to Greendale for coffee and a short walk. On our drive we ran past Old World Deli and decided to buy some hot ham and rolls. We took one of our frequent and short circles around the "C" section in a neighborhood we like in particular (a shout out for Kev: we walked passed your grandma's house). We were excited to get home and bust into our bag of Sunday morning treats. Hot ham wrapped in foil, two awesome rolls and a tube of Kit polish cookies. I made us some delightful sandwiches and we watched a bit of the Olympic distance men's cross-country skiing. All of this was a nice break after several days of intense errand-running related to "our" soon-to-be house and getting ready for my trip to a professional conference in Chicago next week.

We both took the day off Friday to meet with our mortgage broker and our home inspector. Thanks to every disreputable mortgage broker that helped cause the real estate market crash, we spent three hours signing many, many disclosure forms to ensure we clearly understand what we are getting ourselves into financing our purchase.

We ran from the broker's office straight to the house for our inspection. Inspector Scot McLean of Town and Country Home Inspectors has sparked my interest in the career field of home inspection. It's such a practical, highly-skilled trade that requires a keen eye and a mind that can put together many pieces to see the whole. So, I'll stack that up with all of my other would-be jobs for another life including: postal mail carrier, librarian, nurse, and coffee shop owner.

We learned that there is nothing majorly wrong with the house. However, it will need a new hot water heater, repair to the kitchen fan and a mega dose of cleaning to rid it of the disgusting cigarette smoke smell. The owner assured her realtor she doesn't smoke, which is a big, fat lie. Everything reeks like an ash tray and I discovered cigarette ashes on the coffee table and bedroom floor next to the night stand. What kind of person smokes in bed? Someone who is inviting danger into their life.

So, after the inspection, we entered a new round of the game we like to call, "should we, or shouldn't we commit to this contract for the long haul?". We spent most of Friday night angry, ready to walk from our contract while we can. We woke up the next morning with clearer heads and decided to stick with it. So, we're in it to win it (fingers crossed).

Saturday was totally engrossed with big-time shopping. Ryan needed gear for his upcoming trip winter camping with his brother, Jon, and I needed new work clothes in a bad, bad way. We visited the Johnson Creek outlet mall to hit Banana Republic, Ann Taylor and the Bali/L'eggs/Playtex store where my sister, Greta, works. Shopping was tedious, but fruitful. We enjoyed visiting with Greta and seeing her in saleswoman mode.

Sunday I hit Mayfair and DSW to finish out the conference clothes shopping responsibilities. Those of you that are close to me know that I hate to shop, especially for clothes - it brings out all of my impatience and my assorted body image issues. But, I muscled through it and came out the other side with many, much needed work essentials:

Three pairs of pants: dress khaki, dress black, dressier dark wide-leg jeans.

Eight sweaters: cream colored turtle neck, navy blue cable cardigan, cream heather v-neck, grey open ruffle cardigan, orange black-beaded fine-knit crew, aqua short sleeve crew, black short sleeve crew and a brown heather toggle cardigan.

One dress: black and white patterned silky knee-length.

Six layering tees: cream, brown, royal purple, black, black, key lime.

Three bras: nude, nude, black (thanks Gret!)

Six pairs of hose: 1/2 black, 1/2 nude.

Ten pairs knee high-hose: nude.

Two pairs of shoes: nude sling back heels, black rounded-toe patent leather ballet flats with solid leather accents.

So, I've essentially rebuilt most of my wardrobe for the staggering price of $759.98! Spending that much on apparel is obscene to me, but to put it in perspective I don't really think I've bought any clothes in the past year except a random pair of jeans and a pair of boots. I feel glad that I have finally purchased the clothes I desperately needed and didn't have a panic attack in the process. I am ready to clean out many things that have been taking up space in my closet that are too small, too old or ill-matched. I also feel more confident that I can find things to wear for work if I put my mind (and money) to the task.

A couple of photos to round out the weekend.

Ryan trying out his new 10 degree sleeping bag at REI:


Strange blue muffins. Banana, raspberry and chocolate chip:




Since it's almost March, we get a new monkey on the calendar:

Flagstaff Is Following Me

Came home halfway through the day feeling awful: headache, neck pain, congestion. Watched some Keeping Up With the Kardashians, then napped until my emergency chiropractic appointment. During the appointment she said, "you should splurge on a massage or some yoga". I responded that I'd just had a massage on Saturday and she was shocked. That says something about the total state of stress my body is under. I knew I was tight, but didn't realize how tight until she started doing some deep tissue work on my neck. That appointment and another coming up are a little bit of a wake up call for me about my current state of health. I'm contemplating another vegan month to bring my diet back to the middle.

When I started my car, NPR flipped on and began a story about Macy's Coffeeshop in Flagstaff, AZ. They described how the owner had started the roaster from the ground up and how the shop is celebrating its 30th anniversary. The minute they said Macy's I knew the story would be about Flag and I felt a bit like the city is teasing me. We briefly contemplated taking a spring road trip vacation out there through Colorado, but ultimately decided up on Mexico City instead.

The story ended with a familiar voice giving the standard KNAU NPR Morning Edition anchor sign-off: "this is Gillian Ferris Kohl for KNAU Flagstaff, Arizona". As an frequent NPR listener the sign-off is something you barely listen to, but becomes a part of your routine. It rought me back to my every-day-morning in AZ getting ready for school and work.

A disclaimer, I did not take this picture of Macy's but wanted to show you all what the shop looks like:



A second disclaimer, the coffee in my lap is not actually from Macy's. It's from a coffee shop in Portland, OR called Coffeehouse Northwest, which was one of the stops on the Knudson Pacific Northwest road tour this summer. But it certainly gives you the feeling of a nice little coffee break:



My dear, dear husband is currently making me a pot of chicken noodle soup with fennel and I am very grateful. God bless him!

Tentatively Accepted Offer

We must be crazy! After much deliberation we decided to go through with the short sale on "our house". We will be going ahead with the inspection and application for financing within the next two weeks, per our contract. We also have the right to terminate our contract at any point within the next 35 days, should we change our minds. After that 35 days are up, if we do not terminate we are in it for the long haul. I'll keep on with updates, but the process may be slow, unless we decide to give up on it. In the mean time we will keep looking at other properties. We visited another open house yesterday near Bayview, but were not impressed.

On Saturday I got a massage from our awesome massage therapist, PJ Rockwell, of As You Like It massage. He provides services from his home, which means they come at a much lower cost compared to other spas or studios. He is also a master with strong, skilled hands. I had a lot of trouble clearing my mind, but definitely kept trying throughout. After a while a peaceful image of this place I used to take bike rides in Flagstaff, Arizona came to mind.

I had a heavy, metallic green cruiser bicycle with a basket on the front when I lived there. Saturday and Sunday mornings were kind of lonely times for me, especially in my last year of grad school when everyone was getting partnered up and I was without a significant other. I'd usually wake up and deep clean my apartment from top to bottom. Then, in the afternoon, I'd take a bike ride for several miles on an urban trail that started on campus. There was a certain bend in the trail where I curved around a hill and in the springtime the side of it would be completly covered in yellow flowers (mix between sunflower and black eyed susie). Off above the hill would be a vast blue sky and bright sunshine. It was big blue skies and sunshine almost every day when I lived in Flag.

One time while riding with a fellow grad student, Trent, we rode off onto a single track trail that followed a creek and an old railroad bed. I should have had a mountain bike for the ride, but we kept going anyway. We rode into a solitary field of high grasses, our backs soaking up the warmth of the sun next to the creek. It felt secret and I felt free.

I was thankful for this nice memory at such a bleak time of year in Wisconsin. I had it a bit rough emotionally when I was in grad school, but now looking back I wish I could have enjoyed it more. I miss Flag a lot and long to be there often.

Me with my bike, grad school kids/friends, a random photobomber guy flashing peace signs and a view of the San Franciso Peaks in the background. Coming back to the NAU campus from the Fat Tire Bike Festival:



A view from up in the San Fran peaks on a hike with my sister and an old college friend, Tim:

Blue Man Group

We made plans to run down to Chicago right away after work on Friday to see the Blue Man Group with our friends Chris and Angel. The day was nuts and I stupidly put every pair of pants I own into the washing machine at the last minute in a bit of a state of frenzy. So, it should have been no surprise when they weren't done and we had to leave or we wouldn't make the show in time. I ended up throwing on a skirt, a slightly dirty old sweater and scarf and we hit the road.

I felt incredibly nauseous, stressed and overwhelmed on the ride down to Waukegan. Work has been taking its toll on me this week with several fifteen hour days in the mix. I finally calmed down by the time we got to their house and hoped in their car for the rest of the ride into the city. I continued to feel sick all the way through the stop-and-go expressway traffic into the city. Chris had to crack the driver's side window to make sure I didn't puke. We made it to the Briar Street Theatre an hour late, but still caught the second half of the show.

Wow. Blue Man Group, what a strange performance art experience. Strobe lights, florescent paint, a homemade mallet pipe organ, throbing rock rifts, the entire first section of the audience wearing raincoats, and rolls and rolls of toilet paper. Bizarre, but enjoyable. I think the best part for me was the nine year old boy sitting in front of us who was freaking out, totally into the show. He was jumping up and down, punching his fists in the air and cheering. I could definitely see the appeal for a pre-adolescent boy. It was fun just watching him.

After the show we looked around the Lincoln Park neighborhood for some place to eat dinner, but didn't want to stray too far since we'd found a killer parking spot and traffic was pretty heavy. We ended up at Cesar's Killer Margaritas where we waited about 45 minutes just to get a table. There were several flavors and sizes of margaritas availble for the tasting. Ryan convinced Angel and I that the "Mega" margarita seemed like an awesome deal, as it was only $2 more than the small. All three of us ordered tamarind Mega margaritas. When they arrived they were the size of mini fish bowls on stems and somewhat unwieldy to hold without a table to set them down on occasionally.

After a while we got a table and were pleasantly surprised by the quality of the food. I enjoyed carne asada while Ryan muched on a very authentic mole poblano. We learned that $2 more does not always mean a deal. By the time dinner came to a close, Angel was in a a pretty happy and candid place; I fell asleep instantly on the car ride home; and everybody's stomaches were a little queasy from all of the sugar, not to mention other stuff, in those margaritas. Chris kept teasing us all "only $2 more"!

Ryan and I bedded down in their very comfortable basement guest room. It's a much darker and quieter space than our own bedroom, so we were at peace. We unwittingly slept until 9:30am, very late for us and certainly late for their family with two young kids. When we finally got up to field a call from our realtor, we heard their son, Elliott, yell to his parents upstairs, "they're awake!". When I got up to go to the bathroom Elliott was sitting at the top of the basement stairs with the dog, Bella, staring at our door. We enjoyed Chris' homemade waffles together with the whole family and discussed their impending trip back into the City so their daughter, Gracie, could buy an American Girl doll with allowance money she's been saving up.

We packed our overnight bag, signed their guest book (an awesomely sweet idea) and made our way back to Milwaukee.

Short Sale

After waiting a day and a half on pins and needles for a response to our offer, we received one that was both frustrating and completely unexpected. Though there had been no mention of a short sale in any of the materials or by the seller's realtor, her counter offer came back with a request for a short sale.

For those of you that may not know what a short sale is (I didn't before we started looking), it's a house where the seller owes more than the list price and leads to ardous negotiations with the bank. Apparently these types of houses are becoming a huge issue in the whole real estate market since its collapse. Generally the seller discloses this information and seller's agent advertises the house as short sale in the materials, letting the buyer know...hey, you're in for a long haul here, but you could stand to get a good deal, if you have nerves of steel and are extremely patient. Someone knowingly looking for a short sale would write an offer that is low, probably way lower than what the house is "worth", dig in their heels and get ready for a battle with the bank.

While it would be honest to disclose this information up front, there is no law in our area that requires it. Our seller claims she "didn't know" her sale would be a short sale. The long and short of it is that unless a seller is dishonest or in an utter and complete pit of self-denial, she should know her sale is going to be a short sale. If we knew, we probably wouldn't have made an offer in the first place. We certainly wouldn't have made such a reasonable offer.

This is hard, because we both feel emotionally attached to the house. I feel like it's my house and I stupidly kept showing the pictures to people. But waiting around to see what the bank does, even with our reasonable offer, means we're totally at the mercy of whatever timeline they decide. That means we have the potential to lose out on a fabulous housing credit if things take too long, which they likely will because most short sale bank departments are completely overloaded. It also means we might get to point where we have to move out of our current living situation, with no place to go, because negotiations have dragged on.

So, we've decided to tell our agent that we are rejecting the seller's offer for a short sale. We'll also ask her to investigate whether the seller is even close to being able to strike a conventional deal by negotiating up. Chances are that even if we offered her the list price, she won't be able to pay. If she was able to do that she probably would have just counter-offered with something higher.

As an honest person, I'm overwhelmed with angry feelings for this seller. She should have disclosed this information. I understand every one goes through financial problems and there are many suffering currently, saddled by properties they can't afford. But how do you go along paying your mortgage on a reasonably priced house for nine years not knowing you can't afford it? The answer is you don't. She's probably leveraged her value of the house well past what's safe, which could mean there's even more than one bank to deal with in this situation.

My little feelings of anger are amplified thinking about all of the lovely things filling the rooms of the house. I would never keep buying beautiful things and overextending myself knowing I couldn't meet my most basic financial obligations, I just don't live that way. I don't know this woman, so I shouldn't judge. But, her house has been on the market for nearly nine months listed under two agents, if she has half a brain and she's honest, she should have known.

She totally changed the rules of the game on us, a move that sends up huge red flags saying buyer beware, buyer beware! So, I'm sad today. We're turning down a chance at our beloved little house. But I guess we'll see if it's meant to be.

We Made An Offer

Yesterday we toured a house we loved, today we wrote an offer with our realtor! It's the opposite of what we set out looking for in many ways. Smaller, newer, and in a neighborhood that wasn't really even on our radar, but it felt like home. A lovely little lannon stone ranch with oak floors throughout, a natural fire place, a gigantic kitschy-cool kitchen for entertaining, a sunroom, a mini porch off the breezeway, a great patio and all around the block from Jackson Park.

We went to our realtor's house in Bayview near South Shore Park to complete a pile of micrscopic paperwork. I spent most of the day excited, but when we sat down at the table to get to work I became fearful. We managed to make it through the paperwork and decide on our offering price. I giggled a little to myself when I realized that normal people pay for things like water and city garbage collection. It was clear to me that I'll soon be ushered into the world of adulthood.

After the deal was sealed, Nancy invited us to stay for a simple supper. She brought out two crystal wine glasses and some Liebfraumilch for a toast. We shared the dinner of makeshift lasagna, toast, salad and some small talk in her house crowded with knick knacks. It seemed like an incredibly kind and decent thing to do for us. Also a bit old fashioned. There is something about inviting strangers to share your left overs with an open heart and no sense of embarassment that warmed my heart.

Say a little prayer for us that our hope for a new home becomes a reality!

Valentine's Day

The last few weeks have been an overwhelming time with work responsibilities and stress about what the future holds.

My staff meeting ended at about 10:30pm on Wednesday and I crawled into bed with Ry. He'd already been dozing on and off for a while and was a bit out of it. I said something about my litany of responsibilties that day and he responded, "just think, in addition to all this craziness we need to find you a job and buy a house." After saying this he nodded off for the night and I was stricken with a surge of panic. I got out of bed and decided to watch a video cassette of the previous night's Lost episode. Since I have nightly meetings on Tuesday I cannot watch Lost and we tape it on a give-away VCR with stickers all over it that I got from a friend in grad school. Channel 12 comes in worst of them all and nothing makes me feel out of the technology loop quite like fast-fowarding a tape. I watched the episode, felt better and went to sleep.

Most of what I've been working on is reading RA candidate files (to choose six new staff members for next year), preparing for the Cobeen 4th Annual Swing-A-Thon (a 36.5 hour swing marathon to support an eating disorders clinic) and advising a three day, campus-wide diversity awarenesss program. If you are interested in supporting the Swing-A-Thon we are collecting donations for Rogers Memorial Hospital. Just contact me and I will clue you in about the event. We've raised over $13,000 in the last three years.

By the time I reached Thursday was thankful and felt accomplished! If I can make it to Thursday night, the end is in sight.

Ryan and I celebrated Valentine's Day early. After I came home from several hours of candidate file reading Saturday morning, Ryan surprised me with a bouquet of a dozen fair trade roses. They are just lovely:



Though we were both feeling a bit under the weather we decided to go out for a love-filled sea food fest at the River Lane Inn on the far north side of Milwaukee, near Brown Deer and River Hills. We drove up I-43 in the dark and made our 7:30pm reservation. The restaurant has been there for thirty years. And though updated and welcoming, it had a distinct old fashioned feeling. We each had a cocktail at the bar and moved to our table in the red dining room decorated with Valentine's colored balloons. I am just a sucker for balloons. There must be something in me that secretly rejoices in prom decor. Here's a run down on what we shared:

Wine - Bottle of the house Pinot Grigo

Appetizer - Rare sesame encrusted ahi tuna and salads

Main Course - Garlic Shrimp with lemon butter, argula and sundried tomatoes over linguine (Megan) & Cajun scallops with andouille sausage and potatoes (Ryan)

Dessert - Raspberry chocolate mousse & creme brulee

We were by far the youngest people there, but we rejoiced in the delicious food, company and the salacious senior conversation happening around us. Some of my friends and family know that I am an expert eaves-dropper and I can't stop it. We decided that we are very spoiled in the culinary realm, but as long as we keep cooking magical things at home we have to up the ante for special meals out.

This morning my Ryan woke up with a full blown sickness. So we took it easy, lounging on the couch, enjoying coffee and watching CBS Sunday Morning. They had some great Valentine's themed segments with the best by far being one where Mo Rocca served as a male escort for some old rich lady. We exchanged cards and Ry surprised me with a bar of black currant dark chocolate. Mmmm, mmm, do I love currants. I went to mass at Gesu, while Ryan stayed at home. There was a lovely blond haired Polish boy in the pew behind me who kept driving his cars along the cathedral floor making a ton of noises. Distracting but endearing.

Next we are off to visit the newest addition to the Hetzel family: Chloe Renee, born Friday February 12th, 2010. We put together a little mommy and daddy gift bag consisting of some high end liquor and soothing post-pardum mommy products. Ryan baked a delicious loaf of wheat bread for the family as well. We're off for our visit but will keep our distance, so as not to infect the little one.

After that we are going to see two more house showings today. I'm slowly learning that realtor photos can make any old, crappy little thing look nice on a computer screen. I'm keeping my fingers crossed for more luck today than yesterday. We've at least agreed that if we are going to stay in Milwaukee we want to move into something that is reasonably priced and ready to roll. No labors of love for us in the city.

Here are a few other choice pics from last week:

Cecina tacos with avocado, green onions, cilantro and red salsa from El Rey. A quick Wednesday night meal for us:



A ridiculously large churro that happened to make my poor stomach ill:



My blooming spider plant:



I obtained this spider plant by stealing a baby spider off of a plant in the carillon ringer's office while I was taking a tour of the Marquette bell tower. I secretly snipped the baby off, took it home and rooted it in some water. After I planted it, it's grown like crazy. I wasn't even aware these plants did flower, but discovered a couple of months later that they sprout out these delicate white flowers that last for only about a day. I haven't seen any on my plant in a while, but low and behold, some arrived this week. Hooray for small blessings.

Death To Social Media

I understand the irony of that title, given the fact that I'm using a form of social media at this very moment. I have come to the point of utter digust with Facebook, yet for whatever reason I cannot stay away from it.

My first attempt at a hiatus lasted less than one day. My second attempt (where I actually temporarily deactivated my account) lasted only three. Most times when I log on I become annoyed and come away with the feeling that our society has reached the lowest common denominator. Doppelganger? Everyone who loves their kids, post this in their status (who doesn't love their kids)? One Million Strong For A Pickle Over Nickelback? Sorry Ryan. Really? Is this how we're spending our valuable time?

I can say definitively that Facebook is not making my life better. It is not improving my relationships in a tangible way. It is not making me more informed about the world around us. Yet, I feel an overwhelming compulsion to log on.

There is something about social media that seems incredibly vacant and false to me. It allows us to hold the illusion that we are closer to our loved ones when, in reality, we talk to them and see them less. No amount of status updating or voyeuristic picture surfing fills the void that real social relationships used to play in my life. Before cell phones, before email. I want it all back. I have this fear that if I quit Facebook, I'll miss out on the limited chances I do have to connect with people. I'll miss that invite, that update, that inside joke, that little crucial tidbit that helps me feel like I'm an insider. In reality, I've never felt more like an outsider.

I also feel like I've lost any semblance of privacy. Where are my boundaries and how can I better define them, so I feel like my life is my own again? For starters, I deleted close to 180 friends from my profile tonight. I also restricted every one of my photo albums to friends only. I felt incredibly guilty deleting so many people. I know and like most of them very much. They are just not in my life, nor have they been for quite some time. I'll just have to let go of that guilt. Being on a list does not equal friendship.

Don't worry. I'm not going to run off and live in some reclusive shack in Montana like the Unabomber (though I do love postal mail). But I do want to reclaim some of the real parts of my life, starting with actual relationships and communication. This may prove tough for me because I'm shy and because the gulf between me and my loved ones seems large right now. It can be hard to pick up the phone after so long, but I need to make the effort.

Bunnies Before A Snowstorm

Not much to say so far this week. I went to 10pm mass at St. Joan of Arc Chapel, one which I had never attended before. I was pleasantly surprised to find that our hall priest was presiding and also by the glorious voice of a scruffy looking male student who led the hymns. There is a woman who comes to the Joan of Arc mass each night carrying many bags and I can only assume that she's homeless. She was there again tonight. When I reached over to offer her a greeting she refused my hand but politely waved.

On my walk home I had almost reached our building when I saw something small dart by on the lawn out of the corner of my eye. I noticed one small bunny and then another intently munching on the lawn of the Henke Courtyard. I couldn't believe they'd still be out and around, especially on the night of a much hyped snow storm. Whenever I see these little animals around campus I marvel at the fact that they actually make it in the heart of such a bleak urban center. They bring me a little bit of hope. If they can make it, I can surely make it.

Chaperones

Yesterday morning Ryan and I took the METRA train down to Chicago with a group of high school Model UN kids who are participating in the 2010 University of Chicago Model UN conference. I've enjoyed my time with these youngsters so far. On the whole, they are well-behaved and our chaperone duties have been very light. I like to sit back and watch them interact, usually I find myself giggling under my breath or sharing a discrete smile with Ry. I can see the very clear differences between this age group and the college age group I work with daily. These are extremely bright kids, but they have not yet been exposed to many things my college students have, nor have they been given the opportunity to experience a significant degree of independence.

We took a small group of kids to the Mexican Fine Arts Museum in Pilsen yesterday. It is amazing and free - if you are ever in Chicago, visit this museum! With eleven kids in tow we hopped on the El and I gave impromptu lessons on public transportation. I showed them how to use the card purchasing machines, how to insert their fare cards into the turnstyles and how to read the transit map.

We had lunch at a great little counter service Mexican restaurant across from the Damen El stop called Abuelo's. I had a burrito El Abuelo (marinated skirt steak with avocado, red cabbage, cilantro and beans) and a mandarin Jarrito's, yum! Ryan munched on a torta pibil (marinated baby pig sandwich with avocado and cabbage). We sat with two boys who discussed the merits of trying new things (or the inability to do so), the details of kosher food preparation and Judiasm. We took a short walk to the museum, which was featuring a special exhibit on the Women of Juarez. Powerful, powerful pieces in many mediums about the femicide that has been taking place there and growing exponentially since the mid-1990's. Ry and I also toured through the permanent exhibit remembering the last time we'd been there - just a week after we met and fell in love.

I bought these Virgin De Guadalupe earrings from the gift shop:



When we came back to the hotel I conked out for several hours. I find a good long nap is usually in the cards for me on the first day of a get-away weekend. I know no one will bother or call me and I just want to rest in a sterile hotel bed. The Model UN Conference takes place at the historic Palmer House Hitlon, but we are staying at the Hampton Inn around the block, connected to what used to be called the Majestic Theatre. Our 20th floor room is comfy and has fifteen-foot ceilings.

Our room in the afternoon:



View from our window in the afternoon:



After my nap I watched some public television syndicated European Journal news show that was doing stories about societal issues in small towns along the coast of Northeastern Greenland and an animal behavioral clinic where meds are given to depressed dogs in the Netherlands. Ryan and I snuck out for a pub dinner and made our way over to the Palmer House to watch the kids in the UN Committee Time.

Committee time consisted of moderated caucus meetings where "countries" discussed issues related to their assigned topics and attempted to pass motions. We traveled from ballroom to ballroom identifying the kids from our school and watching these massive group activities unfold. I was incredibly impressed by the Palmer House and all of the historical decorative touches. Nobody makes buildings like this anymore.

I was also flabergasted by what some of the young women participating in the conference thought passed for Western business attire. Modesty, modesty! Call me old-fashioned, but I think it's important for us to teach young women that their bodies are not commodities and that they are not going to be taken seriously if they dress in such a revealing manner. I honestly think some of them are not even aware that they look totally inappropriate.

Some shots of the lovely details in the Palmer House, the second largest hotel in Chicago and a historical landmark.

Tiled ceiling detail in the main lobby:



Gold winged woman chandelier in the main lobby:



View from the cushioned alcove in the back of the Red Lacquer Room:



Chandelier detail in Red Lacquer Room:

Phenomenal Woman

I just finished eleven staff evaluations over the last ten days. I generally torture myself over writing them, but after days (read: weeks) of worrying I kicked my a*s into gear and spent many early mornings at the computer with a big cup of coffee (Thanks Al & Beckie - ever since you gave us those new cups I have drastically increased my caffeine intake). I spent several weeks time writing the evaluations and then hours of time (probably 15 total) meeting with my supervisees to discuss them. I really enjoyed this sit down time with each woman to talk openly about her performance and where she fits in our overall staff team.

I had them do self-evaluations before the meeting, so when they came that was the first thing we did together. Strangely, these self-evaluations took the bulk of each meeting. I sat and listened to them share their insights into the work they do, how they interact with others, how they see themselves, how they balance the many demands on their time and what they hoped to accomplish by taking on the Resident Assistant (RA) role. I was struck by how wise and self-aware most of them were in their assessments. I was also reminded just how lucky I am to interact with them daily and watch them slowly grow into new people affected by their time in a pivotal peer-leadership role.

Lately, I have felt such strong emotions for my students, especially the women in my residence hall. All of them. The ones who work for me. The ones who have worked for me. The 347 who live with me currently. Even every young person who's ever caused me worry or angst related to their stupid behavior. I'm aware I now have less time left here than I've ever had before. I know that I am leaving soon and it makes me sad. For those of you that have heard me talk (ad nauseum) or even complain (I never do that, right?) about my job, this probably comes as a shock to you. But I have been rocked by perspective about the experiences and relationships I've been blessed with here at Marquette.

I'm sad to leave these students behind and nervous to move out of the halls into real life. I know things are going to change for me in big ways, ways that I can't even begin to anticipate yet. I actually got teary at the end of an evaluation today because I knew I wouldn't be here to see what that phenomenal woman would have to offer in the future.

Exploring At The Gym

I'm at a total loss for what happened to today. Between six staff evaluations, countless meetings and preparing to head out of town, I'm just depleted. So, I'll go back to yesterday.

Ryan and I decided to get some gym time in after work. We headed over to our local rec facility, housed in a tall, skinny building that used to be the old downtown YMCA. We climbed the stairs up to the running track that's suspended a level above the basketball course. It's a strange open ring hanging in the air around the court with only a glass partition and railing keeping us from falling down below. We can see and hear the basketball players. They can see and hear us. When you walk, but especially when you run, you can feel a bit of bobbing resistance below your feet. I'm not quite sure how they make it work. We walked at a brisk pace for about forty-five minutes and toward the end Ryan lapped me with some jogging.

Ten minutes before closing time we walked down to the next level and started exploring some of the other spaces that are tucked away in this old gym. We walked around the racquet ball gallery, but no one was playing. We checked out the squash court, but couldn't figure out how to turn on the lights. Next we found the boxing gym, which looked to be in sorry shape. But given our most recent obsession with Season Four of the HBO series The Wire , we couldn't fight our excited urge to bang around on the punching bags for a while pretending we were in Dennis' gym. So we tried out all of the bags, except the speed ball, which you had to check out from the front desk. Punching, kickboxing style. Whatever. They are heavier than you might think. We discovered two old rowing machines (with instructions on the wall circa 1986, literally). We each climbed on one and started to do a little rowing race next to each other. Ryan tried to get in synch with my rowing and I tried to get out of synch. We laughed and kept going for a while. It was nice to find what felt like a secret old forgotten corner tucked away in the gym where we could just play and explore.

The gym closed and when we walked outside I could see that it had just started snowing. I hadn't watched my usual morning news in a while, so I had no idea it was coming. The flakes looked lovely and we stopped for a bit on the steps of the Big Red Calvary Church. I looked on toward the Marquette campus and Ryan looked back toward downtown. Through the small windows on the arched doorway of the church I saw a small framed icon hanging on the wall.

We walked over to the library so I could grab a book I'm interested in reading by someone I worked with a few years back. It's called From The Pews In The Back, a collection of essays written by young women about their experience with Catholocism and Catholic identity. I've been meaning to check it out to pay homage to Jen, one of the book's editors, but also because I think it may be of some use to me in my work.

When we got home Ryan assembled and frosted his "wacky" cake for a school party:



Our dinner of Potato Vegetable Curry (made by Megan):

Cutting potatoes:



In the pot:



Final product with rooster sauce: