Day 2: Milwaukee and Traveling

Milwaukee's motto ought to be: "Milwaukee: it's better than you think." We drove into town through the industrial area, so initially, I was pretty skeptical. Run down buildings, factories, warehouses--really not so pretty. But our first stop was a coffee shop called Alterra. Their buildings are in a similar vein as McMenamins here in Portland: convert old historical buildings into cafes.
The coffee was good, and it turned into literally, been there, saw it, bought the t-shirt. A really cool t-shirt. We loafed around town that morning, hoping to pick up Margaret early in the afternoon. But, alas, still no flight. Poor Margaret!
But Milwaukee was pretty cool, after the industrial area was passed through. Old, Victorian-esque homes; very pretty near the lake and surrounding the university. It was good food for the imagination. The last nine months or so, pretty much everything has been feeding my imagination. I have no idea why I've been feeling so inspired and excited lately, but I'm definitely not complaining.
The art museum is right on the lake, and was designed by some famous [Spanish?] architect to resemble a bird taking flight:






That morning, we briefly explored the Public Market, where I bought the requisite bag of Wisconsin cheese curds:





I kept on exclaiming in amazement at the snow and ice everywhere:






















So then Joel had to copy me:














Our final Milwaukee stop was Kopp's Frozen Custard. Frozen custard, to those of you not in the know, is a very rich, dense, eggy version of ice cream. According to Joel, Kopp's is the best:
He was right, it IS good, even though I'm not usually in the mood for frozen treats in 30 degree weather. I opted for vanilla, figuring it would be best to taste it first in its purest form. Mmm. Kopp's itself was kind of a strange mix of the ultra-old fashioned (workers in cute 50's-style uniforms) and the ultra-modern (stainless steel everything):
Here's a photo of the lady who started it all. I think she immigrated from Germany. Sorry the photo is blurry.



















Still no Margaret, but it was getting late, so we decided it was time to hit the road:














We drove through Indiana














and Michigan, stopping in Flint at a diner for dinner.
It was traditional in the sense that our waitress had attitude, and our choice of cheese consisted of American or a Swiss version of American. The building, however, was too new.

Finally, we entered Canada. Unfortunately, our car got searched, but fortunately, it was no big deal. They found a chew toy in the back seat that Joel had bought for his dog in Milwaukee, and seemed a wee bit suspicious. "Do you have a dog?" they asked. Well, duh. Joel's answer of yes satisfied them. What would they have done if he said no?
After the border, I looked at the gas gauge, and pointedly asked if we needed to buy gas. "No, we'll buy some later."
But, THERE WAS NO LATER FOR MILES AND MILES! Just rolling farmland. We would exit, search through what might be a town, but discover that all it consisted of was four houses but no gas station. This situation was getting desperate. Finally, running on fumes, we found one with three gas stations listed. We found the first one. Hmm. Closed (it was 11:30 at night). We found the second one. CLOSED. Uh oh. Finally, we asked a kid leaving a Tim Horton's if ANY gas station was still open. "Yeah, 711." We found it, heaved a big sigh of relief, and filled up the tank. $72.00 CDN later, we were back on the road.
I started driving with no navigator. Joel fell asleep. We saw Toronto from the freeway. Where is the goddamn exit? Uh oh. We had passed it 60 kilometers earlier, quite possibly when Joel was still driving. Joel wakes up, whips out the map, and guides us to our youth hostel. 2:30 a.m. (two hours later than expected), we arrive at our Toronto Hostel and fall asleep.

What You've All Been Waiting For...My Vacation

DAY 1: Chicago
I spent the first day of my vacation in Chicago. Arriving at the Midway airport, I took the surprising simple CTA subway (aboveway?) into the city, and met up with my friend Joel. We drove around and I had my first-ever Chicago-style pizza. It was good, but honestly, I think I prefer New York or Italian-style pizza more. Thin, bubbly crusts are more my style than dense cornmeal. Sorry, no pizza photos.
We wandered around downtown some more, and then eventually ended up at Millennium Park (also pictured in first photo). I liked Millennium Park very much. It had all kinds of interesting things to look at: the giant silver bean, blocks of light that looked like giant human faces that changed expression, and buildings with strange, cool architecture.

There was also a really classic skating rink:
Next, we decided to have dinner with Joel's former roommate Wynn (I think that's how you spell her name). She goes to school at the University of Chicago, and lives in Hyde Park. She lives in a very interesting old, huge apartment. I really wish I had taken some photos of it. But here is one of the lake which we drove along on the way to Hyde Park:

We had dinner, hung out, and then finally, we drove up to Milwaukee, in hope of picking up my friend Margaret from that airport in the morning.

Goodbye for now, Chicago:

Filler Until I Have Energy

A Few Items:
1. I'm too tired to put up an actual entry about my super-great vacation yet, but I swear I will soon.
2. I'm going to the Bon Iver concert tonight at Holocene. Yay! But yes, it will prolong my fatigue. So far, I am busy every night this week until Friday. Ugh. When will I catch up? But it's totally worth it.
3. My actual, highly frivolous posting/though for the day:
People's cars are a reflection of who they are. I've held this theory for quite a while, but it came back to the forefront of my brain this morning, due to an incident in the parking garage. So, in support of this theory, I present a survey of several of the guys I've dated and the cars they drove, culminating in my own car history. Obviously this is not an exhaustive list, and if I've dated you, but didn't list you, I apologize. These just made the biggest impression:

Very Nice Boyfriend 1: Very outdoorsy, not concerned/aware of labels or other status symbols. Comfortable and reliable. A real DIYer. His car (he still has it): a Subaru Legacy wagon (not actual cars pictured below, but similar)













Extreme Disaster 2 (Extreme Disaster 1 didn't have a car. Surprise, surprise.): To be diplomatic, I'll call him a country-type (I could definitely use a stronger label), conservative politics, bad dresser, listened to country music, when I saw his TRUCK, I should have known, and should have run away fast. A giant Chevy Silverado vanity truck on giant wheels. And you know what they say about American cars: poor style and completely unreliable. What the hell was I thinking?














Ongoing Source of Delight/Confusion/Angst: A little guy with a little car. A Honda Civic. How sensible. No frills, but gets the job done. Reliable in some ways, but breaks down occasionally, much like him. It's had some trouble, but keeps on going. Yes, it describes him too:












Last Guy I Kind Of/Sort of/A Little Bit/But Not Really Went Out With: An intellectual, ambivalent, but honestly, he had really good taste. Not necessarily practical, but definitely luxurious and definitely fun. He seemed to like the good things in life: fancy food, good wine, thrilling music, and nice cars. What did he drive? A BMW 325i.














And now, Me: My first car wasn't really mine; I didn't choose it, it was just given to me from my parents, so I feel it's not really applicable, so I won't include a photo of it. It was a 1990 Oldsmobile Cutlass Ciera. Sweeeeeet. But I guess it was appropriate, as I was a college student, and drove a hand-me-down car. Okay. I guess it applies.
Next, the first car I had a hand in choosing: a 1984 Honda Accord. It was old, but in really good shape. I loved that car. It developed problems, but kept on going (much like me). I learned how to drive a stick because of it. I miss driving a stick. Here is one that is similar (mine was in better shape):














After I got a full-time fancy job, I wanted a fancy car. And I wanted a wagon, as they are infinitly more useful. So I got a fancy, European wagon. In my opinion, it suits me perfectly (not to sound arrogant or anything). I like nice things, dammit. It's fancy, but not over-the-top fancy, as it is older. I think that corresponds to me finally having money, but not being rich yet. So what is it? a 1998 Volvo Cross Country. (My actual car pictured below).














So what do you think? Does my theory hold water? I think it does.

A New Phenomenon? Part II

My friend sent me a link to this website: kittywigs.com. I just had to post some photos from it, sorry. It was just too funny.

Here's the caption for the "blond" wig:
Blonde is a magical mix of bashful and brazen. Fern shows off the many moods of a natural blonde: sweet yet catty, smart yet batty -- where life is alluring and coy. Now all she needs is a bikini and a Swedish accent.
Blonde sets off your kitty’s eyes and makes your kitty look tan.

A New Phenomenon?

I saw this calendar at Powell's this afternoon. Those of you who read my Myspace blog know what I'm referring to. Cats in hats two days in a row? What's going on here? Is humiliating your cat becoming the latest fad?

Sopranos: Kennedy and Heidi

I just can't get over how amazing "The Sopranos" is. Seriously, I can't.
Warning: Don't read this posting unless you've already finished watching the entire series. Warning! I don't want to spoil it for you, just as I don't want it spoiled for me.

I just finished watching episode 83: Kennedy and Heidi. My thesis for the night: the asbestos represents Tony's secret about truly being the one who killed Christopher.
There is a problem with asbestos disposal, and Tony and Chris get in a terrible car accident, Chris was in very bad shape but might have been able to survive, but Tony suffocates him. It's all in the details. Christopher starts pleading Tony to help him, because he won't pass a drug test. We see Tony start to dial 911, but once he hears that, he hesitates, suffocates him, and then dials 911. Such detail. You can see him thinking, deliberating.
I'm sorry, this post is probably boring, but I find "The Sopranos" so exciting! Anyway throughout the entire episode, Tony has to act sympathetic and sad around everyone, even though he's really the one who caused the final blow. He feel like a hypocrite. The only person who he reveals this to is his shrink, Dr. Melfi, but obviously, he doesn't tell her that he's the one who really killed Christopher, but rather just that he's actually kind of relieved that he's gone.

Back to the asbestos problem. Just as Tony is carrying around this toxic secret, unable to completely dump it anywhere, unable to completely relieve himself of it, there is no where to dump the asbestos. (Also Tony's problem.) Finally, at the end of the episode, we see the workers dumping the asbestos into the river. The theory is, no one will know. But of course, it might float to the surface. But it's been gotten rid of, the problem has been relieved. Directly following that scene, we see Tony in the Nevada desert with one of Christopher's cumares after having taken peyote. All of a sudden, he shouts out "I did it!" Dumping from his mind the secret, just as the asbestos was dumped in the river. The episode ends there. Such a nice touch.