I knew there was a mouse in the house. I could hear it scratching and squeaking in my office. So I asked Chuck to set some traps last week. After several days nothing had been caught, so I got sort of lax about checking them. Yesterday evening I was sitting at my desk and I noticed a disagreeable odor. I don't know how long it had been there....eeeeew!

The business trip was, I think, productive. The owner of the company wanted to go back to "the old way," but our sales rep stood firm and said that wasn't going to happen. We are prepared to make a few concessions to get things back on track from two years ago when they went on the program, but they will continue to be a Journal Billing customer. The owner's wife does most of the accounting work, and she seemed reasonable and will be easy to work with to get the differences resolved.

Don, our sales rep, took us to lunch at a German restaurant after the meeting. I was the only one that had anything German - jagerschnitzel. I don't know if that's spelled right, but it's breaded veal with a hunter sauce and mushrooms.

Then came the really serious part of the day-----shopping at the outlet stores. I bought three pairs of shoes at the Naturalizer outlet, a rain jacket at the Totes outlet, and a "Laser Leveler" at the Black and Decker outlet.

I spent the evening reading "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" out on the back porch, even though the air conditioning had been seen to earlier in the day, and the house was cooling off nicely. I just love that porch. I saw the summer stretching out before me with nothing to do in the evenings except sit on the porch and read.........until the phone rang.

It was Flyod, and he offered me the role in "Ten Little Indians" that I would have hoped for had I been able to audition. It's the role of Emily Brent, a "disagreeable spinster". I'm supposed to call him back later today with my decision. Of course it's yes.

I pre-ordered the new Harry Potter book, and it arrived yesterday. I guess Dorothy Parker will have to wait. But so will Harry Potter, until I get back from Milwaukee.

I'm going on my first ever business trip tomorrow with Loretta and Sheila. We're going to Milwaukee to call on a customer that doesn't seem to understand the Journal Billing system, and thus has outstanding debits for money to which he is not entitled. I'm really to be the "silent partner" since I don't know enough to say anything. I'm really just there to learn. And maybe do a little shopping at the outlet malls on the way back.......

I think things may finally be getting somewhat back to normal, whatever that really is. After three weekends in a row of performances (LCC concerts, Strawberry Festival, Will’s Welcome Home party, Miss Geri’s Dance Recital), Ben’s graduation on Tuesday, and working yesterday, I at last have a day with only minor responsibilities. I even skipped church today.

I’m still not used to the new work schedule. That extra hour per day really makes a difference. I used to still have some energy when I got home to do a few domestic chores, but this past week I pretty much let everything slide. I’m so glad Chuck didn’t make me go to “Family Fun Night” at church last night. He had to go because the event was sponsored by the Diaconate, of which he is the chair. Yesterday was my one Saturday per month to work, and when I got home I really felt overwhelmed. The house looked like a bomb had gone off, spewing clothing, papers and dirty dishes everywhere. The last thing I wanted to do was sit for several hours playing board games.

I did the only sensible thing…….I took a nap. And then I had a sandwich. Then I played the 15-minute game. Fifteen minutes clearing up the dishes. (It’s amazing what having a clean sink and counter will do for one’s attitude.) Fifteen minutes reading a book out on the screen porch. I’m reading “The Portable Dorothy Parker”. I don’t really think much of her poetry, but her short stories are right on the mark. Fifteen minutes to make the bed with fresh sheets and get last week’s sheets washing. Fifteen minutes with my feet up, feeling the gentle breeze through the screens, listening to the cardinals in the backyard. Fifteen minutes to vacuum the front room and dining room and empty the trash. And so on. By the time Chuck got home the house looked better and I felt better.

As it got darker on the porch last night, I realized why I hadn’t spent more time in the evenings reading there. The lantern-style swag lamp next to my chair cast strange shadows on the page. It was fine for conversation, but not much good for reading. So this afternoon, we went to Menard’s and got a summery looking white-shaded light with nothing below the bulb to block the light.










Ben graduated Tuesday evening from North Side College Preparatory High School. He started there four years ago in the new school’s first freshman class. The thing that distinguishes this school from many other of the Chicago Public Schools is that the students actually want to be there. They had to score high on tests and apply to get in. None of the students there were just marking time until they barely managed to graduate or dropped out. There was an impressive list of scholarship winners and other academic honors awarded to North Side graduating seniors.







Chuck, his sister Janis, and our friend Jim attended the ceremony, which was held at the gym at Loyola University and was mercifully short. Or as short as it could be with a class of over 330 students. I could have done without the performance of a student-written song, accompanied on guitar, bidding farewell to North Side. But it was obvious the students were proud to have been a part of shaping the character of the school.

Locating Ben after the ceremony took awhile, and getting out of the parking structure took a LONG while. When we finally got home, we had some champagne and gave Ben his presents. Cards with enough money to fund his trip to Arizona to see his family before he leaves for the Air Force on August 5th, and two pieces of luggage. We spoke of going out to dinner today to celebrate, but Ben had an invitation from Jenny (nice name), the girl he took to the prom, to go to Six Flags today.

At dance class Tuesday evening, the last class before the big receital, Miss Carol asked who in the class had a weblog? Apparently, there are a few folks who actually do read my meagre ramblings. She said some lady called Miss Geri's School of Dance and wanted to know if that was still the same Miss Geri that she had taken dance lessons from 20 years ago. She had read my description of the class and the costumes.

Oh, dear......I still have to hem my jazz pants. They were fine with my sparkly gold high heels Saturday night, but they are definitely too long for the jazz shoes.

I think I finally (mostly) have the steps. Now if I can just remember to hold my line and stay in my window. I hope Saturday is really cold.

It's time to play catch up again. Not sure I'll ever feel really caught up.

Will and his family came for dinner a week ago, and it was so wonderful to have them here! (They're staying up north with Donna's folks.) Chuck made his famous spaghetti sauce, of course. Heidi was asleep when they arrived, and slept on through the entire evening. After dinner, Donna and I left both of the girls at home and went to Barnes and Noble. Donna was thrilled to once more be in a book store where the majority of the books are published in English. We got all the "Junie B." books that she hadn't yet read to Heidi.

I missed auditions for the play this year because of Strawberry Festival. Friday night I was helping cut strawberries, and of course Saturday was the show itself. I started off by singing "There's No Business Like Show Business". I was wearing the sequined, beaded jacket that I had let Janis borrow for the fashion show and the pants I'm going to wear for the jazz number in the dance receital on Saturday. The pants have sort of a ladder effect going up the sides, alternating cloth and bare skin. I got lots of comments on that outfit. The show turned out pretty good. Janis and Rick had their solo debuts this year, and both did quite well.

Sunday we had an open house for Will and his family. My boss, Loretta, came and brought a big bouquet of yellow roses. Floyd showed up with a huge potted geranium with three American flags stuck in it. The party started out slow, but gathered momentum later. I was glad I had planned a vacation day for Monday, so I could take my time cleaning up.

My work schedule has changed a bit. A week ago Monday the girl who replaced me when I got promoted came in, picked up her personal items, and left without saying a word to anybody. They say they're going to look for a replacement, but I'm not holding my breath. In the meantime, I'm doing 5 hours of overtime a week trying to do two jobs.

WILL IS HOME! He's in the States on leave until the 14th. He called from his in-laws' house about 10:30 last night, and he, his wife Donna, and the girls Heidi and Heather came by where I work. I introduced him to all the people who signed a card that was sent to him when he was out in the desert watching the firefights, and he thanked them all for their support. There were many who thanked him for what he did, to which he replied, "It's my job."

It was so wonderful to feel that rib-cracking bear-hug again and see him face to face. Like when he was born, he has all five fingers on each hand and five toes on each foot (I assume---I didn't make him take off his shoes). He was wearing his desert uniform, and he called everyone Sir and Ma'am. He had a long talk with George, my boss's boss, who happened to have a map of Iraq in his office. Will showed him all the places he was.

I hadn't seen Will, Donna or Heidi for two years, and this was the first time I met my newest granddaughter, Heather. The girls are so sweet! Heather smiles and gives everyone "high fives". Donna is so sensible and calm. When the war started, she turned off the television and didn't listen to anything anyone was telling her if he wasn't in uniform.

After they were done at my work, they went to Steinmetz and Chuck introduced him around.

Ok, I know this isn't original, but I got this in an email yesterday, and almost all of these things apply to me. Leave a comment if they apply to you, too.

You Might Be From Chicago If......

The "living room" is called the "front room."

You don't pronounce the "s" at the end of Illinois. You become irate at people who do.

You measure distance in minutes (especially "from the city"). And you swear everything is pretty much 1/2 hour away.

You have no problem spelling or pronouncing "Des Plaines."

You go to visit friends or family down south and laugh when they complain about the traffic.

Stores don't have sacks, they have bags.

You end your sentences with an unnecesary preposition. Example: "Where's my coat at?" or "If you go to the mall I wanna go with."

Your idea of a great tenderloin is when the meat is twice as big as the bun, "everything" is on it and a slice of dill pickle is on the side.

You carry jumper cables in your car.

You drink "pop."

You understand that I-290, I-90, I-94, and I-294 are all different roads.

You know the names of the interstates: Stevenson, Kennedy, Eisenhower, Dan Ryan, and the Edens. But you call the interstates "expressways."

You refer to anything south of I-80 as "Southern or Central Illinois."

You refer to Lake Michigan as "The Lake."

You refer to Chicago as "The City."

"The Super Bowl" refers to one specific game in January 1986.

You have two favorite football teams: The Bears, and anyone who beats the Packers.

You buy "The Trib" and not the Tribune.

You think 45 degrees is great weather to wash your car.

You picnic or ride your bike in the "forest preserve."

You cried when Bozo was canceled on WGN.

You know what goes on a Chicago style hot dog.

You know what Chicago Style Pizza REALLY is.

You know why they call Chicago "The Windy City."

You understand what "lake-effect" means.

You know the difference between Amtrak and Metra, and know which station they end up at.

You have ridden the "L."

You've been looped in The Loop.

You think your next-door neighbor is a cousin to Tony Soprano.

You can distinguish between the following area codes: 847, 630, 773, 708, 312, & 815.

You have at some time in your life, used your furniture or a friend's body to guard your parking space in winter.

You respond to the question "Where are you from?" with a "side." Example: "West Side" or (in my case) "Northwest Side."

AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST.......
You know the phone number to Empire Carpet!

This is another non-stop week, culminating in two Lutheran Choir of Chicago concerts on the weekend.

Strawberry Festival will be on the 7th, and I've decided on singing "There's No Business Like Show Business".

And the dreaded dance receital from Miss Geri's School of Dance will be on Saturday, June 14th at Lane Tech auditorium (performances at 1:30 p.m. and 7:00 p.m.). Yes, it's official now. I picked up my costumes last night, a sequined tuxedo top for the tap (music: "I Love a Piano") and a leopard print top for the jazz number (music: drum beats - no name). Joanie keeps asking me if Chuck will be there to "support me". I'm really not pushing him to be. I have a feeling if he is there, I'll be hearing comparisons to a certain section of Fantasia for a long time to come.

Thursday of last week, Ben informed me that he still needed to see one more play for his drama class, a professional or community production as opposed to a school effort. I called the North Shore Center for the Performing Arts in Skokie and found that it is now the home of The Northlight Theatre. So Sunday we went to see At Wit's End, a bright, funny musical centering around just one of the many possible stories that could have been told of the members of the Algonquin Round Table, a group of writers, actors, and critics who regularly had lunch at the Algonquin Hotel during the post World War I period.

The story centers around the founding of The New Yorker magazine, and the rivalry of Alexander Woollcott with Jane Grant's husband Harold Ross. Other characters in this ensemble cast include Dorothy Parker, Robert Benchley, Helen Hayes, Tallulah Bankhead, Edna Ferber, Franklin P. Adams, George S. Kaufman and Marc Connelly. They manage to get most of the well known witticisms commonly attributed to Dorothy Parker into the dialog. While none of the songs will stand on their own, they were pleasant and energetic and fit well into the story. The musical runs until June 22, and I highly recommend it to anyone of my vast readership in the Chicago area.

At one point the character of Alec Woollcott does a little tap dance, and I was amazed to find myself able to identify the individual moves that made up his dance. Something I never could have done before this year.

I just finally spoke to my son, Will, for the first time since Christmas! He's back in civilization in Germany with his wife and two girls, and he's planning a trip home to the states soon for a visit. What a relief from all the tension of knowing he was in danger.

And another piece of good news. The parent company of the company I work for said they couldn't institute the pay cuts that had been proposed. Now if we can just not have any layoffs, we'll be fine.

The company I work for has decided that they will not make their profit numbers for the end of the fiscal year (ending September 30) unless they cut salaries by 5% for June through September. The last time they did something like this, it was an "unpaid furlough". They took the money, but they gave us five days off. I could deal with that. This time they're just taking it. Of course, there's nothing to be done but wait it out.

A week ago Thursday afternoon I took a half day off from work and went to a meeting of The Guild. Back in the dark ages when this group started, it was the Woman's Guild. (Yes, the spelling is correct. I was censured for changing it on an Annual Report for our church). That was in the day when the man went out to work and woman stayed home and looked after the house and children. Having done a little of both, I think the man got the best deal. I'm not sure when it became just The Guild. It was sometime around when they realized that any woman who was of working age was working (because who can live on just one income?), and that the only people who came to meetings were retired women and their husbands or significant others who drove them. Since the alternative for the men who drove was to go down the street to Fishman's for a few brews, the men were welcomed into membership as well.

The purpose of this organization is to support the church, but they are independent of the church. They are responsible for two Rummage Sales and the Christmas Bazaar each year, great fund raisers. The Guild makes an annual pledge to the church, and they usually exceed it by special designated gifts. They make a great point of saying that every member of the church is a member of The Guild, which is how they get around the fact that most of them are too old to actually do the work of these fund-raising events, therefore pressing into service every able-bodied person who doesn't know how to say no to a little old lady asking for help. Since most of the male members of our congregation are former members of Scout Troop 979, you can understand where that help comes from.

To get back to the meeting I attended, just let me say that it was unique. To begin with, there was a potluck luncheon with enough food to feed half of the city of Chicago. I came in at the tail end of the "meeting" portion, just in time to hear one of the twins (74 years old, I believe) read a tribute to Mother (in honor of Mothers' Day, May 11). The tables were elegantly set with lace tablecloths and sparkling centerpieces designed by Ellen. After completely pigging out on chicken, lasagne, broccoli salad, several other kinds of salad, baked beans, several kinds of potato (you get the picture), not to mention the desserts, the "program" portion began.

The program was entitled "Thrift Shop Fashion Show". Ellen served as master of ceremonies, and she had also provided a blue and white balloon archway and white paper "runway" for the models. Ken was dressed up in a tux with a blue ruffled shirt, and he escorted all the models through the archway. With the exception of some wedding dresses that were family heirlooms, all of the clothes were purchased at thrift shops, resale shops or rummage sales. My sister-in-law Janis (one of the youngest people there) modeled a sequined, beaded jacket that I had gotten at a resale shop a while ago and lent to her for the occasion. Joanie wore her mother's wedding dress which had a train longer than twice her height and a veil even longer. Lucie modeled two outfits, and wore silver tap shoes with each one. It was really just a lot of old ladies acting silly, but it was great fun, and well worth taking an afternoon off for.

We had our first rehearsal for Strawberry Festival last night. The theme is "Back to Broadway" and the choir is singing medleys from The Sound of Music, Finian's Rainbow, and Oliver!, as well as individual songs, ending with Rick playing tuba in "Seventy-six Trombones". Solo numbers are yet to be determined, but Chuck and I may do the "Lida Rose/Dream of Now" duet from The Music Man.

Strawberry Festival has taken place in early June at my church for more years than anyone can remember. Tradition has it that there was to be an ice-cream social on the church lawn that had to be moved inside to Mayflower Hall when storm clouds gathered. To kill time while things were being set up, the choir entertained with a few impromptu secular numbers. And the rest, as they say, is history. The admission is free, and the cost of the strawberry sundaes, shortcakes, etc. is very reasonable. It's a pretty good deal for a Saturday evening. Details below:

Strawberry Festival
Theme: "Back to Broadway"

Saturday, June 7, 2003 7:30 p.m.

Congregational Church of Jefferson Park
5320 W. Giddings
Chicago, IL

For further information, call (773) 725-0121

Too Smart for His Own Good......

The enterprising young high school student who took over publishing The Echo from me has just had a visit from Consequences. He was having trouble in his computer class. Did he ask the teacher for help? No. He decided he could figure it out for himself if he could just analyze what he was doing. So he illegally loaded a program that would record keystrokes. Too late, he realized that he was getting the entire class's keystrokes, including passwords. Did he ask the teacher for help then? No. He decided he had to remove the program. Somehow in that process (don't ask me how because I'm not that geeky), he caused a virus in the system.

He'll find out this week just what the Consequences are, but they are likely to involve suspension and community service.

I went to Bev’s baby shower yesterday at Grace’s apartment. I sat between Ev and Murphy, a 20 year old Amazon green parrot that can bark like a dog and quack like a duck, among other sounds. Grace’s other two parrots, a 3-year old gray and another small one, were much quieter than Murphy.

After the obligatory “mad-lib” game, we got right to the business of Bev opening her presents. I think she's pretty well set to welcome her little girl into the world. After the presents and the cake, Bev said that she felt guilty for all the attention and getting so many nice things. She said she hadn’t done anything to deserve such generosity.

On the contrary, I think she has done something very special. Becoming a parent is an act, not only of love, but also of faith. Faith in the future, faith that everything is a miracle. Every gift that was showered on her was a celebration of that faith. In a crazy world, it allows us to realize that there is hope.

I threw away my Easter corsage today. It's been sitting there on the kitchen counter since the afternoon of April 20. It isn't that I haven't seen it there. I was well aware of it. I'm not really a slob who doesn't throw away garbage. But I must admit that the reason I didn't throw it away before was guilt.

Last year for Easter, Chuck got me a nice orchid corsage, and then forgot to give it to me. So this year, he gave it to me on the afternoon of Saturday, April 19, putting the ball squarely in my court, so to speak. Well, I didn't make a basket. As usual, it's enough for me to remember to put on clothes when I'm trying to get out the door in time to be at church enough before 7:30 a.m. to put on my choir robe. So, of course, I forgot about the lovely corsage Chuck had so thoughtfully gotten for me. Maybe I should tell him to put the flower money in the offering plate from now on. That would avoid Flower Guilt, anyway.

I've had pretty much of nothing to talk about lately. I'm really stuck in a rut of going to work, coming home, eating dinner, washing dishes, going to bed.......just to start the whole sequence again the next day. Today there has been a variation! Chuck decided he needed to use up some eggs and leftover ham, so he made omelets for breakfast. I'll have to make more of an effort to take notice of what's going on around me. I'll report back later.

In the meantime, if you want to know what the rest of the blogging world is talking about, pop on over to Metapop (link via Fred).

I had to stay late at work yesterday, but only until about quarter of six this time, rather than 10:00 p.m. like last month. We were able to have Lana, one of the programmers, run a certain utility early in the day, rather than waiting for it to be done automatically at 6:00 p.m., and that made all the difference.