Tag: Real Life

First, let me say: GO, CUBS GO!

I was born a Cubs fan. It’s as much a part of my DNA as my daddy’s nose or what my husband calls the ‘Suzanne stare’ (named for my mother). Some of my earliest memories of being a cubs fan involve men’s pocket combs.

You see, the men’s rooms at Wrigley Field used to be equipped with vending machines like this:

They dispensed blue plastic Chicago Cubs combs, and each time we went to Wrigley, I used to beg my dad and brothers to get one for me because they weren’t in the ladies’ rooms.

Baseball games were also the perfect opportunity to exploit my love of hot dogs. As far as I can remember, the hot dogs served in the Friendly Confines have been of the kosher all-beef variety.

When I moved to Arkansas, it was a bit of a challenge to uphold my standards, but my friends at Hebrew National came through. Still waiting for the Vienna Beef, though.

When I lived in the city, I spent a few years in Lake View (just east of Wrigleyville). Many a warm summer day was spent watching the crowd and listening to Ronnie Woo Woo call to fans as I sipped beer in the beer garden at Murphy’s Bleachers.

I loved those days so much, I ended up writing them into a scene in my novel, Contentment.

My dad was the epitome of a Diehard Cubs Fan. He caught almost every game either on WGN-TV or WGN-AM. I can still sing the whole ‘Hey, Hey! Holy Mackerel’ song. I can still hear the voices of Jack Brickhouse and Harry Caray. I remember one of the first times I ever used someone cell phone was from a rooftop party across from right field. Who did I call? My dad. What did I say? “Hey Dad! See the Torco sign, look three buildings north. I’m waving to you!

I’m be no means an avid Cubs fan. I don’t watch the games on TV. Most of the time, I have little more than a passing acquaintance with names and stats and a general idea of how they are doing. But I do keep a framed photo I took of the Wrigley Field sign next to one of my parents. Because they are all a part of who I am.

The Cubs are heading to the World Series for the first time since 1945. The last time they went, my dad was serving in Germany post WWII. This time he’s in Heaven with Jack and Harry, Ron and Ernie, and all the diehard Cubs fans who never stopped believing.

And they’re waiting to fly the W flag once and for all this season.

GO, CUBS GO!

Confession time: I’m not a domestic goddess. I loathe housework. I have no craft/sewing skills at all. And…I’m not a good cook.

Seriously. I not only own this towel, but I have the matching mug.

It isn’t that my food is inedible. It’s just food prepared by someone who’d rather be doing something else. The same can be said for most of my homemaking skills. I do it if I have to, but given an alternative….

Once the kids grew up and moved out, we discovered what lazy slobs we actually are. Fodder and I can live with our own mess for a disturbingly long time. I think this is because our mess is mainly clutter and not actual filth.

At least, that’s what I tell myself.

Writing was once a hobby, but is now a profession. One that leaves me little time for fooling with hot glue guns. I avoid Pintrest as much as humanly possible. I don’t need someone else’s pleasure turning into my frustrating procrastination.

But I’ve been thinking about food a lot lately. Mostly because we’ve hit the end of summer rut-that dreaded time when cooking is out of the question and even a trip to one of our favorite eateries seems like a chore. Don’t get me wrong, I love to eat out. When asked my favorite thing to make for dinner, I will answer “reservations” without hesitation.

Unfortunately, eating out is not only expensive, it plays hell with the waistline.

I can come up with a half-dozen plausible reasons for the weight I’ve gained in the last two years, but I know that one of the largest factors has been my refusal to prepare my own food whenever possible.

But I’m slow and miserable and something has to change.

I spent most of Sunday in the kitchen prepping foods that can be easily converted into meals throughout the week. I’m not claiming any of these are low-fat, anti-carb, super-duper diet foods. I’m past self-denial and working more along the lines of control and moderation.

Little compromises.

We started the morning with the dreaded trip to the grocery store and rewarded our fortitude by having meatloaf for dinner. In an effort to make an effort, I used lean ground sirloin, and skipped the oven-roasted potatoes we usually have on the side. While it was baking, I poached chicken breasts to make stock for chicken and dumplings, and enough to experiment with a new chicken salad recipe. I also roasted natural almonds in a bit of olive oil to give them some snap.

I’m hoping the weather breaks in the next few weeks. I love crock pot season.

Don’t worry, I made words between all these activities. And, just so you know I haven’t been body snatched, I’d like to remind you all that we are coming into college football season. That means there’s fresh candy corn in the stores.

Bon appetite!