October has been a month of endless Cheek travel. This week found me in Chicago, and while my sinuses tried to thwart city enjoyment, the early part of my visit couldn't be dimmed.
Stayed at the Hyatt on Wacker, where my room's view was:
Managed to talk work peeps into experiencing one of Cheek's favorite things: a stroll down Michigan Avenue for a drink at the top o' the 'cock - the Hancock Tower, that is. The trip up the elevator to the 96th floor's Signature Lounge seriously wounded Cheek's ears - the left one hasn't cleared since the descent into Atlanta on the way back from Vegas 2 weeks ago. Ouch.
A clear night afforded a fantastic view for the 'cock virgins in the group and distracted from ear pain. Yummy pupus shared and wine quaffed. A quick stop in the loo on the way out was pre-empted by the chicks and dude exiting. Apparently the men's doesn't have the floor to ceiling windows, and he HAD to see what all the fuss was about. His companions peed with the door open so as not to miss the view of the Navy pier:
The mosey back found us stopping at the Intercontinental's Eno, a wine / cheese / chocolate foodgasm. A dark chocolate knosh and a Malbec slosh was the thing. Returning to the hotel room, I spied what I'd seen aloft from the Hancock tower - the Wrigley building lit up for Breast Cancer Awareness month (so was the Hancock and the Sears Tower):
If your bidness life ever resembles these pics, you *MUST* watch this StrongBad e-mail on business trips. Baltimore, Las Vegas, now Chicago (dang, WHEN will that junior executive promotion come through?); there'll be no "Expense Account Ones" for me as I'm all congested 'n' stuff still from bad Vegas air.
Unless you're living under a rock, you know that October is breast cancer awareness month. I'm angling to score one of the kewl pink ties that the male Delta flight attendants are sporting.
As my 40th approaches, I know that regulah mammograms are ahead. Already had the baseline one a few years back. But regular self-exams are something I need to get more vigilant about, fer sure. Did you know that there's a service out there? Dinner with peeps last week in Atlanta served as my awareness vehicle, adding to the Videos You Should Know About (V.Y.S.K.A.):
Ok, we've already established that I suck. And not always in good ways. Sorry for the dearth in posts. Between stoopid busy work and many peeps in distress, I've been plumb out of time for any self-sustaining rituals. When stress has my plate full - good stress, bad stress - I find I start to lose myself. I'm not even aware it's happening. But it hit me on this second of many work travel weeks.
Hadn't listened to my iPod for, um, weeks? Turned it on whilst unpacking in schwanky Vegas hotel digs. Listened to the last iTunes purchase - the Aimee Mann release recommended by Sheena earlier this month (not bad, by the way). Then listened to a couple fave playlists.
A small, familiar yearning started to build. The music resonated with the bits of myself that I'd turned off to get through the travel, the work, the holding of others' hearts.
Music and words - reading, writing - are my prescription for life. Exposed to those drugs in infancy thanks to my 'rents, I'm a lifelong addict. Cutting myself off cold turkey really sucked. I'm slowly dosing and not yet up to regular intoxication levels, but I'm working on it.
Work and peep sitches still aren't really affording time for proper omphaloskepsis. But life ain't life without my fixes. Looking forward to live tunage action soon with Kimplicated and the return of The Old Ceremony to Atlanta, followed by a roadtrip to see Mike Doughty. In the meantime, my iPod won't be so neglected. The tune whose words struck yesterday: Gomez and "See the World" - an unsuck listen *and* and unsuck watch:
"And when all's been said and done It's the things that are given, not won Are the things that you earned"
It's not been a secret, my un-love affair with summer. I've made some pretty harsh, judgmental statements. But summer did its best to win me over at the beginning of September. I think she even forgave my brash, rude, petulance.
Visiting FloridaDad and SWEJudy the other week, each afternoon found us taking cover from the daily Central Florida summer storm. Only instead of abating after an hour or so, the rain kept coming. And coming.
But on my last night, a reprieve. Post-dinner cleanup found me grabbing my iPod and heading a block away to the beach as the sun was setting. I hit play on my "Summer of Sundays" playlist and set to strolling.
"& its you and me in the summertime We'll be hand in hand down in the park With a squeeze & a sigh & that twinkle in your eye & all the sunshine banishes the dark" - The Sundays, "Summertime"
The song ended as I kicked my flops under the sea grapes and set towards the water. Not many walkers that late. A few blokes casting. The lights of cruise boats twinkling off shore.
"well the heat was enormous it fell like a gorgeous blanket of indian clay time drifting over us, stagnant like thunderclouds pregnant and heavy with rain" - Eddie From Ohio, "This My Town"
The breeze reminded me that the morning's showers had chased away the languor of humidity and stickiness of heat. My toes hit the edge of the perfect water, same temperature as the air. My cadence slowed to a surf strut.
"Maybe sometimes, we've got it wrong, but it's alright The more things seem to change, the more they stay the same Oh, don't you hesitate . . . You're gonna find yourself somewhere, somehow." - Corinne Bailey Rae, "Put Your Records On"
The lights inside the condos loomed brighter as I moseyed south. My pace quickened to a jaunt - almost a dance - as the next tune bubbled up.
At least three times, I jumped up and down in the surf, once landing on a sand crab. Ouch! Out of breath, a respite as Herbie Hancock's "Cantaloupe Island" chilled me out.
I couldn't have timed the scoring better. As I saw the last glimpse of sun to the west, The Sundays returned with words to bid the day's glow adieu:
"The thought of heaven couldn't drag me from the path When I'm wandering here alone I climb higher move towards the fire.... so blaze sun Watch until it dies slow falling from the sky Pale fading sun" - The Sundays, "Folk Song"
Have you ever cha cha'd to XTC in the surf? I recommend it.
"You play hard to get 'Cause you're teacher's pet But when the boats have gone We'll take a tumble excuse for a fumble" - XTC, Grass
My only picnic of the summer was dining with PJamaMama on the lawn at the Atlanta Botanical Gardens for the Indigo Girls show. What a fine evening that was!
"and my family takes picnics to the park on warm weather holidays and we ask all the neighbors, and they invite all their friends in kind and we all bring side dishes, and we form one big holiday buffet line" - Eddie From Ohio, "I Don't Think I Know Me"
"Nightswimming, remembering that night September's coming soon I'm pining for the moon" - R.E.M. "Nightswimming"
It struck me during this tune that I had not skinnydipped before. I turned around and realized the sun had fully set. I was halfway through my playlist, so I about faced and headed for home.
Did you know that the most successful pirate EVER was a woman? A Chinese pirate married a prostitute in 1801, and she took over his bidness when he died in 1807, growing the operation to 1500 ships and 80,000 sailors. I'd say that makes Cheng I Sao the first female CEO. Granted amnesty by the government in 1810, she lived to be 69 and a great-grandmother. Read all about Cheng I Sao's bad self here.
As a little kid, I'd bop around the living floor when the Olympics came on, pretending to be a gymnast. Can't WAIT to bring back the let's pretend spirit tonight and strut about as a pirate wench, instead:
Wear a lot of bandanas. Especially ones with skull and crossbones designs and red and black ones. When not wearing a bandana, make your hair a bit messy. You can also use an eye patch. White, ivory, beige, cream and tan peasant shirts are great for the look. Skull t-shirts are also great. Plain black, white or beige shirts with cut-off sleeves are a great addition to your wardrobe. Brightly coloured long sleeve button ups are piratey. Just make sure they are loose, not stiff like a shirt a corporate executive might wear to the office. And make sure you leave all of it untucked but the very front, creating a sagging look (regardless of how it's finished) and unbutton the top few buttons.
How to talk like a pirate
Growl - and scowl often. Pirates don't use a cultured, elegant, smooth vocalization - they mutter and growl.
Gesture with your hands frequently. Don't forget that pirates do most of their talking on the deck of a ship - out on the ocean, where wind, waves, and bird calls make it tough to hear. Gesturing often gives you a sense of "being there."
Run words together. Saying, "The boys and I were out for a lovely day on the water today" sounds like something you'd overhear at a yacht club. Instead, try, "Me'n'these here scurvy scallywags drug our sorry keesters out t'th'ship'n'had us a grand great adventuaaarrr! We almost had t'keelhaul Mad Connie f'r gettin inter th' grog behind our backs!" Note that you should always endeavour to call the addressee by some insulting name, usually involving an animal. "Yer a scurvy bilge rat, ya pompous gasbag" or "Here's yer dinner, ya mangy cockroach." (source: wikiHow)
“. . . perhaps we’d be better off not looking at all. Not delving. Not yearning. But that’s not human nature. Not the human heart. And, it’s not why we’re here. Yet still we struggle to make a difference. To change the world. To dream of hope. Never knowing for certain who we will meet along the way. Who among the world of strangers will hold our hand. Touch our hearts. And share the pain of trying.”
“So much struggle for meaning. For purpose. And in the end, we find it only in each other. Our shared experience of the fantastic, and the mundane. The simple human need to find a kindred. To connect. And to know in our hearts that we are not alone.”
Made broccoli and spinach quiches for frozen future brefkast offerings for my FloridaFolks, but my favorite consumption during the visit was french toast with bananas and blueberries, bacon, and homemade blueberry syrup, enjoyed on their lovely front patio. I've illusions of one day having a bed & breakfast - would this meal float your boat?
As previously attested, Sheena's Peaches are amazing. Lucious. Juicy. Rosemary softly permeating creamy vanilla goodness. I promised to do her peaches soon.
This week I walked the talk and did 'em not once, but twice (alas, not in Sheena's company). First as a test drive with my folks and then again when we dined with a friend in Viera. Lesson learned: use only ripe peaches, as the firm ones will blacken up before they get soft enough. 4 minutes each side at 400 degrees.
