Party Down

I had my first corporate Christmas (whoops, sorry, "year-end") party over the weekend and I learned three things.

1. Some people have really lame significant others. I am continually amazed by people who physically appear to be adults, but proceed to sit silently like children. There's really nothing quite like saying "oh, Nicole, it's so nice to meet you, Bill tells me you're from Colorado?" and get "mm-hm" in return. Aaaaand, thanks for playing. I've really never been so happy to be single in my whole life (well, and that time at the grocery store when this couple was having this awful passive-aggressive argument over what kind of cereal to get)

2. Apparently, I am fun. It was always my impression that the band is the point of these things. We had over 1000 people there, so mingling wasn't really the order of the night and besides, the band was too loud for that anyhow. And good! A nine piece band with four singers playing crowd pleasers all night - awesome! But out of those 1,000+ people, there were only about 30-40 dancing. So I thought that was sad. The food really wasn't good enough to justify coming if you didn't plan to dance.

3. When I need to be, I'm quite the actress. One skill I really am developing is the ability to play a certain part in work-related social interactions. You know, the "fun but not too fun, funny but not too funny"...I bet everyone thinks I had a great time at the party. Mission accomplished!

In other news, Mary Poppins was on TV tonight. I think that just might be my favorite movie of all time. If I have children, I'm definitely going to raise them to a) like classic movies and b) not be too self-conscious to dance.

Look Out World!

A New York Times article by Jeff Zeleny. Couldn't have said it better myself.

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A New Wind Is Blowing in Chicago

SO long, Crawford, Tex. Even before President-elect Barack Obama takes office in 61 days, effectively crowning Chicago as the site of the Western White House, the city is basking in a moment of triumph that is spilling well beyond the confines of politics.

A bid for the summer Olympics in 2016, which once seemed like a fanciful pitch, suddenly feels far closer to a sure thing. (No, the ban on lobbyists at the White House does not apply to a little presidential persuasion on the International Olympic Committee.)

A spire is finally poised to be placed atop the Trump Tower here, bringing the skyscraper to 1,361 feet, the tallest American building since the Sears Tower was built three decades ago.

A new Modern Wing for the fabled Art Institute is set to open next spring, including a Renzo Piano bridge to Millennium Park, which sat in the distance of Mr. Obama’s election night victory speech here.

Yet this moment of renaissance for Chicago is about much more than architecture and athletics. For the first time in the country’s history, an American president will call this city home. And as he moves to Washington, a dose of the Chicago mood is sure to follow.

“We’re not Little Rock and we’re not Texas,” said Rick Bayless, a friend of the Obama family, who owns Frontera Grill and is among the city’s celebrity chefs. “It’s easy to put on your cowboy boots and eat all that barbecue. You can’t do that from Chicago. We’ve got a lot of muscle and it’s far too complex of a place for that.”

The complexity of Chicago, a city that is multiplying in its new diversity even as it clings to a segregated past, is rooted in the 200 neighborhoods that make up the nation’s third-largest city. America may well know Oprah Winfrey, who became a billion-dollar name through her rise to fame here, but the city holds a far broader identity.

One sign that the Obama brand is replacing the Oprah brand? The talk show tycoon is not mentioned in the city’s new tourism campaign, which invites visitors to “Experience the city the Obamas enjoy.” Ms. Winfrey’s studio is not mentioned along the list of stops, which range from Mr. Bayless’s restaurants to a bookstore in the Obamas’ Hyde Park neighborhood to Promontory Point along Lake Michigan. And souvenirs are on sale across town, with Obama shirts, hats and knickknacks arriving just in time for holiday shopping.

“It seems like there are eight million people walking around here congratulating each other,” said Scott Turow, the best-selling novelist who was born in the city. “Chicagoans are unbelievably proud of Barack and feel of course that he’s ours, because he is.”

Catching himself, he added: “I guess I should get out of the habit of calling him Barack.”

The marketing pitch, in the wake of Mr. Obama’s victory, offers a window into the two-fold psyche of the city: It is a big enough metropolis not to be easily fazed by events, though the fabric of the community is stitched just tight enough to burst in a rare moment of giddiness.

Chicago has long been a place that seems comfortable — or, at least, well adjusted — to losing, a place where you put your head down and shoulder through whatever hand is dealt you. (How could it be otherwise, considering all the practice that the cursed Chicago Cubs have provided over the years?)

In 1952, when an article in The New Yorker derisively referred to Chicago as the Second City, little offense was taken. It became a marketing pitch, with the thinking that second fiddle was far better than no fiddle at all.

But that gawking, out-of-town amazement — gee, there really is a city here! — has long outlived its currency. Well before Mr. Obama was elected as the nation’s 44th president — a fact that was proudly amplified by Mayor Richard M. Daley, who ordered up banners with a sketch of the president-elect to hang throughout the city — Chicago was experiencing one of its most blossoming periods in food, fashion and the arts.

Now, people around the country and the world are simply noticing.

Jeff Tweedy, the leader of the band Wilco who grew up in downstate Illinois and lives in Chicago, said the city never felt the inferiority complex that outsiders spend so much time musing about. Still, he said, the election of Mr. Obama, a friend for years, has given an unusual boost of confidence in a city that is usually nonplussed.

“I think people really do enjoy the idea that we’re living in the center of the world all of the sudden,” Mr. Tweedy said. “There have been all these prevailing stereotypes, and people don’t know how big and urban Chicago actually is. People think of it as being in a cornfield.”

If the country is set to see more of Chicago over the next four years — many people across the city here are too humble, nervous and practical to automatically assume Mr. Obama will be in office for eight years — at least one introductory lesson is in order.

If you had always assumed that Chicago earned its nickname as the Windy City from the chilly gusts coming off Lake Michigan, you would be wrong. The city is windy, according to most local legends, because of the hot air bellowing from politicians.

That was among the early lessons about Chicago that scores of young political operatives may have picked up when they moved to the city nearly two years ago to work in Mr. Obama’s headquarters. But while his campaign was located here — largely to escape the tentacles of Washington — the around-the-clock hours kept few of his young aides from truly experiencing the place that helped shape the next president.

“There is a really strong sense of self in Chicago: People aren’t defined by wealth or by work or accomplishments, but rather who they are,” said Alex Kotlowitz, an author who makes his home in Chicago because he believes it is a place to peer into America’s heart. “Obama seems so comfortable in his skin and with who he is. That’s so Chicago.”

It remains an open question just how much, if any, of Chicago will rub off on Washington. For starters, perhaps the president may be less inclined to shut down his government when a few flurries of snow are spotted. Mr. Obama has already lived in the capital — for a few nights a week, anyway — since arriving in the Senate four years ago.

The Obamas are, however, taking a bit of Chicago with them.

Michelle Obama’s mother is moving to Washington. (No, she is not living in the White House.) So Malia, 10, and Sasha, 7, aren’t alone, a family that lives near the Obama home in Hyde Park is also moving, so the girls have built-in friends in the new world surrounding them.

And, friends say, look for them to spend at least a bit of time back in Chicago. (There is, after all, no Crawford ranch available to this first presidential family.)

Lois Weisberg, the Commissioner of Cultural Affairs for the city of Chicago, is a bit worried by the entrepreneurial rush surrounding Mr. Obama’s election. She hopes that while the Obamas are away the city remains a dignified tourist destination, not where buses are simply hawking rides around Obama points of interest.

“It’s too much luck for one city,” Ms. Weisberg said. “You get the president, you get the tourists, you get the Olympics. There is a wonderful feeling. I don’t think there was anything wrong with us before, but I think we’re better now.”

The Risks of Naming Your Kid Buck

The Longhorns had a little blip last week. In case the post has been taken down or for those who are too lazy to click, the short version is that backup center Buck Burnette was kicked off the football team after posting the following post-election message on Facebook:

"all the hunters gather up, we have a #$%&er in the whitehouse"

Yup. Apparently he got it as a text message (and later apologized up the wazoo: he didn't write it, just thought it was funny, should have thought first, he understands that he represents Texas, spreading hate is bad, etc.).

There are a lot of comments on the Deadspin story, many debating the extent of freedom of speech, some dumping on Texas, others positing that the punishment doesn't fit the crime.

But for me, I see two issues. The first is that Texas' football team is largely black. They had to kick him off the team - how could they expect that segment of the team to consider him a teammate??

It does bring up the race vs. gender issue though. When I was watching the election coverage (and again, it was touching. I already said this and I don't want to take away from that), I couldn't help but wonder how the coverage will compare if and when we have the first female president. Will it have the same historic feel, the same nationwide...jubilance?

You can draw your own conclusions there, but I have a similar question about good old Buck? If he had called Sarah Palin a c&^t, would he have been kicked off the team?

The Dawn's Early Light

I wrote once before of a longing for some magic in the world. I think we got a little Tuesday night. Whatever your political leanings, if John Lewis talking about the bridge in Selma juxtaposed with Barack Obama's acceptance speech doesn't get to you, I don't know what could.

I was watching the election returns at a friend's apartment and she had a long, skinny, scroll-like poster of Abraham Lincoln (I think it was from a library event of some kind) posted not too far from the TV. And when Obama quoted Lincoln: "We are not enemies, but friends…though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection," I looked up at him and I'm pretty sure he winked ...

I'm trying hard to separate this feeling, this excitement, from simply being on the winning side. After all, this is the first time I've been part of an electorate that didn't choose George W. Bush. But there's more to it this time. There's a unity that I hope everyone can feel, Republican or Democrat. It was palpable; even McCain felt it (if he had campaigned as eloquently and sincerely as he conceded, he might well have been elected). I hesitate to draw this comparison, but it reminded me in some ways of the immediate aftermath of September 11th. Of course, this was positive while that was horrific, but that's the last time I can remember feeling so emotional, connected both to those around me and those who lived before, and above all, so American.

This was a watershed moment in American history and I feel humbled to have been both a spectator and a participant. It's a turning point, hopefully not just because the president-elect is black (and believe me, there's a not so hidden part of me that wishes he were a woman instead), but because he'll be everything we hope he is. All partisanship aside, it's hard to deny that it has been a pretty difficult couple of years for all parts of the real America (sorry, couldn't resist!) but as I heard many people said Tuesday night, I've never been prouder to be an American.


Side note: Did you all catch Chicago on TV Tuesday night? Looked beautiful, as always ;)

A Better Life

I read this article the other day and it really strikes me how little I identify with most of the people in these all too frequent 'my financial world is collapsing' stories. I can understand the medical hardships or trying to help a family member or whatever, but these are people with two kids and a mortgage who quit jobs with no other plans, people who didn't read their mortgage contracts, who essentially took on credit without considering that they were eventually going to have to pay it back. Everyone's whining about how Wall Street should have taken more responsibility...let's start at home, eh?

All personal responsibility ranting aside, financial decisions weren't what really made me want to write about this. Here's what was: there's a couple on the second page who lost their home after the father was demoted. They were allowed to arrange a short sale so they wouldn't have foreclosure in their credit history, which is great. They then found a rental big enough for them and their two children, ages 12 and 9. They've now been in the rental over a year, yet the mother has not bothered to put up any curtains, saying, "it's not our home...it's not my home."

I think this is inexcusable. It *is* your home, and much more importantly, it's your children's home. When things get tough, you commiserate with your husband, your parents, your friends. Not your kids. You don't have to pretend everything is perfect, but not creating a home for them is a pretty large offense.

Everyone always talks about how surprising it is that you need a license to drive, but not to have kids. I'd propose a test evaluating your sense of responsibility. We could use it to flesh out credit reports as well.

Debate Team

I don't really understand the point of the presidential debates. This is, of course, only the third election I've been old enough to vote in (or pay attention to), but I have to wonder if the debates were always so canned. The moderator asks some totally obvious question, at which point each candidate launches into a pre-planned speech written for him by his campaign. Sometimes, the speech doesn't match the question, but this doesn't seem to matter either. Even the audience questions feel like plants that allow the candidates to outline their health care/foreign policy/tax/whatever plan for the fourth time of the night. I keep wondering if the candidates are using the teleprompter. They probably should be, as it would make the whole night go faster.

After the second debate, one of the criticisms of Obama's style was that he "took too much time to think after the question was asked." One analyst complained that "[Obama] seemed like he was considering all the options before he answered." What? How is this a problem? Failure to apppropriately memorize the canned speech?

In some ways, I suppose it makes sense. Being president isn't a pop quiz. You're allowed to (in fact, it would be best if you did) talk to your advisers, to come to a decision only after gathering all of the relevant information. So maybe a spontaneous debate is a silly way to differentiate candidates anyway.

But if this is the case, why bother having the debate at all? We could simply hand the questions over to each campaign, print up the transcript, and save ourselves the TV time. Less than three weeks to go.

Break's Over

Bathroom-related humor never fails. I've been saving this one for a while (apologies to the one person who already knows about it).

Prior to August, any woman who began work on the 6th floor of my building was warned not to use the second stall in the bathroom. Nothing was wrong (or disgusting) about it per se, but there was an unfortunate structural stall defect wherein opening the door of the first stall created a squish effect that opened the door of the second. So you didn't use the second stall unless there was no other choice and even then, you had to be in a state of cat-like readiness so you could slam the door shut when it opened to avoid suddenly having a clear view of the handwashers in the mirror.

But then one day in August, I had no choice (it seems somehow too awkward to wait in line to pee when there's an empty stall), so I walked in and sat down with one hand waiting for duty (hee hee, duty). But then something white in the upper right hand corner caught my eye. Someone had macgyvered a little door clasp out of a plastic box. One side had been removed so it could be slipped on the door and a little handle was added with a utilitarian note reading "slide me to the right to close door"

And you thought people who work in finance weren't creative. Sky's the limit when it comes to peace in the bathroom.

A Fashion Post?

I wore capri pants today, I think for the first time in my life. I guess they probably looked fine, but I felt completely ridiculous all day. Like I forgot the rest of my pants, or was deliberately trying to even out the knee sock tan.

Contrary to popular opinion, I actually do appreciate the idea of expressing myself through my clothing. And on occasion, I even do it fairly well, in a rather clean-cut, maybe a little too laid back kind of way.

But, just like in the rest of my life, I'm in a I-know-what-I-know rut. I really don't have any idea how to a) branch out in terms of style or b) how to dress up. This has become obvious when there are events where I have to look like a grown-up. Oh yeah, and I have no taste in jewelry. Not bad taste, no taste.

I think this is probably part of the final frontier where the growing up process is concerned (I'm about to turn 26, you know). Well, that and grown-up furniture. I'm on that too though!

An Open Letter to My Friends And Family

Yes, I'm still alive, thanks for asking. Here's what's been up lately:

The weather has been generally beautiful this summer (and yes, the whole 'moving to Denver' thing does have a weather component to it - it's less at the forefront when it's sunny), but unfortunately the only rain seems to come when we're scheduled to play baseball. We've had eight scheduled baseball days since the beginning of June: 3 rainouts, 2 rain delays. Bad luck. But all the rest has certainly made my knees and shoulder feel better, so I guess there's an upside.

I have tried twice to get the cat to the vet and been thwarted by her sudden intelligence in avoiding the crate. It took three years to come out, but she's apparently an evil supergenius. Try #3 is on Monday, so we'll see how we go.

I also found a new apartment! It's about a half mile east of where I am now, which will improve my location in terms of transportation, restaurants, and especially work. I think I'll probably walk home from work whenever the weather's nice. Move should be mid-August so the packing begins in earnest this week. I'm getting rid of some furniture, so that should make it easier, but it's still always a process.

Other than that, work is better, or at least I seem to be doing better at it and I'm playing soccer on Tuesday nights. And I'm headed to NYC in about 10 days to be the maid of honor in a wedding, Door County the week after that, and Denver over labor day. Somewhat of a busy summer, I'd say.

So now we're back in business, eh? See you soon

Lost

I doubt anyone would describe me as absentminded. In fact, I tend towards the other extreme (nitpicking, of course). So sue me, I like things to be right :)

Furthermore, it's rare that I forget things and even rarer that I lose things.* I figured out recently that between the ages of 10 and 18, I was probably at about 500 softball games and roughly the same number of practices. Through all those gear transportings, I forgot my glove once (I got it back from an extremely surprised coach the next day) and my shoes never.

But in the last two months of baseball practices/games, I've left behind: my jacket, my sweatpants, my water bottle, and finally, my glove. I got all of them back except the last (and most important). I need a new glove anyway, but this wasn't exactly my plan. Plus, now I need to do it quickly, so I'll probably just have to do a stopgap.

This reminds me of one time I was listening to the radio and they had a little competition to see which caller was the most stressed out and one woman said she couldn't find her keys anywhere one morning and finally found them in the freezer. She won.

Is my suddenly losing things meaningful? And why is it always at baseball?


*Exception to the rule: winter hats. I've lost at least five of these. The little buggers just won't stick around...