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.

First it was Dutch elm disease, then the Asian longhorned beetle. Yesterday Rich, my neighbor who is a marine biologist in charge of Lake Michigan, told me about the emerald ash borer. I hope they can get it under control before it does too much damage.

This brings to mind the apricot tree we had in our backyard in Texas. It died, and I didn't know why. My neighbor there informed me that it was "fruit borers" and I could have saved the tree if I had sprayed it. Who knew? Certainly not me.

How to Get Fired We got a new temp in our department this week. Here are the things the old one did to get herself canned:

1. Walked around talking to people instead of sitting at her desk doing her work
2. Had long phone conversations with her friends instead of doing her work (and her cube was right next to the boss's office)
3. Fell asleep at her desk instead of doing her work
4. Ignored verbal warnings from the boss and continued the above substitutes for work

She kept saying she wanted to be hired full time, but sabatoged any chance of that even if there were not a hiring freeze on. She's young. I hope she learns.

I just spoke to my daughter-in-law, Donna, in Germany. She doesn't have an exact date yet for when Will is getting back there to the family, but thinks it may be around the beginning of May. She said that he was among the first group of Army personnel to go into the Baghdad Airport after the Marines had secured it. She said that it was a lot more than he was ready for and he is changing his plans to make the Army his career. She thinks he's still in Iraq, but may be moved back to Kuwait by mid-week. Very good news.

HOORAY! We finally heard from Will. It was just a short e-mail saying he is fine and will be home (back in Germany) soon, but it was so wonderful to have that much communication from him. What a wonderful Easter present!

I just got back from my annual mammogram. My mammogram technician is a 10-year breast cancer survivor, and has found her mission in life. She wanted to make absolutely sure of getting an accurate picture, which means LOTS of compression. This is the most painful one I remember having, but I suppose it's like birthdays. If one considers the alternative, one never complains about them. After the x-ray, I treated myself to a Belgian waffle smothered in strawberries, bananas and whipped cream at Tre Kroner

It was another beautiful, warm day today. A little too warm where I work, since the air conditioning was not functioning. We sweated in the still air in our little gray cubicles. Finally, our "facilities engineer" found us some fans to move some of the air, and the people from the Human Resource department passed out popsicles. I got a sky-blue one.

Chuck and Ben are off this week from work and school, respectively, and they spent the afternoon at the "friendly confines" of Wrigley Field watching the Cubs win. They got to see Sammy Sosa hit another home run, and I've already forgotten what else Chuck told me, but anyway they had a great time. They arrived home about the same time I came home from work, and I waved to them when I saw them getting off the bus at the end of our block. Public transportation is the best way to go. No parking worries, and you can't get much more convenient than having the bus stop three doors away.

We set a record here in Chicago today. The temperature got up to 85 degrees F. The previous record for this date of 83 or 84 was set in 1941. It's very low humidity today, too, which is unusual for this area, so close to Lake Michigan. It's a day that draws people outside like a magnet. I took a walk with a friend of mine at lunchtime, someone who doesn't usually enjoy walking, but we went much further than originally planned. I hope we have a few more days like this. It somehow doesn't seem like exercise when it's so pleasant.

The down side is my seasonal allergies. I was out of Claritin, so I had the itchy eyes, sneezes, etc. when I came back in. I went to WalMart after work and got my "fix". I wonder how it mixes with wine? Well, I guess I'll find out.

When I got in the car yesterday, I heard a song on WFMT that I recognized. I hadn’t heard it announced, and I had to dig back in my memory a bit to remember why I knew it. It was one of Franz Schubert’s “Songs Without Words” , but this particular one I remember from an arrangement that had words.

I was a member of Polyhymnia, a women’s chorus at Elmhurst College in 1969. Polyhymnia ("Poly") was named for one of the nine muses, and the chorus performed all their music from memory, most of it a cappella. It was Mrs. Viola Repp’s last year as our director before retirement, and we were preparing music for our last concert under her direction.

When we first started rehearsing “To Music” by Franz Schubert, everyone hated it. We couldn’t get a sense of how it was supposed to sound, and it seemed like nothing but a cacophony of strange, unrelated notes. We were on the point of rebellion regarding this piece, but Mrs. Repp would not be swayed. “This is my last year and my last concert, and you will sing this piece.”

There was nothing to do but dig in and learn it. Each section leader scheduled extra (required) sectional rehearsals outside of the regular five-day-a-week rehearsal time. As we mastered the notes, the dynamics began to fall into place and give the song shape. By the time we really had it, the piece had become one of our favorites.

Thou lovely art, how often in dark hours,
when life's tumult wraps me round,
have you kindled my heart to loving warmth,
transported me to a better world.

I got busted by the water police while at the Symphony last night. I had changed purses because my large black purse was big enough to accomodate a water bottle. Since I have a cold (feeling much better today, thanks), keeping my throat moist is absolutely necessary in order to avoid choking, coughing, and otherwise annoying other music lovers. I am normally very discreet about taking the occasional sip, and I never make any noise. However, during intermission we were standing up at our seats and Chuck was engaged in conversation with the gentleman seated behind us. As usual, I was just listening. I absent-mindedly took a swallow of water while standing up, facing backwards towards the lobby, in full view of Brünnhilde the Usher. She yelled "Ma'am!" twice before I realized that I was the object of her wrath. "Ma'am! You have to drink your bottled water out in the lobby!" I just said, "Sorry," and put the bottle back in my purse. I guess she didn't feel like making too much of an issue of it. Or maybe she didn't think she could manage the trek down to my row to drag me out.

We sit in the nosebleed seats, and one needs oxygen and climbing equipment in order to navigate the steep angle from the top row of the gallery down to Row E, where we sit. Which is why we stand at our seats during intermission rather than going out to the lobby. We've been sitting in these same seats since the 1996 season, and once we get there, the seats are just fine. I've finally gotten used to the sound of the orchestra being a bit behind the beat of the conductor. Light travels faster than sound, you know.

In September of last year, we did have the opportunity to hear the orchestra from a different perspective