tobermory's Diaryland Diary


She ran calling Wildfiiiiiiire

I am so hungry Iím ready to start gnawing on my desk. I think itís because I keep thinking about all the fantastic dining plans I have over the weekend. On Friday I am meeting the wonderful and charming Ms. Bix at Wildfire for dinner and perhaps a martini or two. I hear that Wildfire has a martini flight that I might have to try. Mmmmmmmartini. I just have to remember what Dorothy Parker had to say about martinis Ė ďI like to have a martini, one or two at the most. After three Iím under the table. After four Iím under the host.Ē Iím not sure that martinis loosen my morals, but Iím quite sure they would impair my driving skills on the way home and that would be bad. I really donít want to have to drunk dial Steve and make him swing by after his soccer game to pick me up from somewhere in Schaumburg because I was too bomb-o-ed to drive home and then even worse to have to make the drive of shame with him on Saturday when we would have to make the painful trip BACK to Schaumburg to pick up my car. The word for Friday will be moderation. Mmmmmmmmoderation. And barring that it will be Mmmmmmmmotel. Note to self: bring toothbrush/paste, make-up, and a clean pair of underwear just in case.

Then Saturday I have reservations for Green Zebra, the much celebrated mostly-vegetarian restaurant. Steve and I are going with Megan, her Dad and Lexy, her dadís seeing-eye dog. Weíre hoping Lexyís silent charm will get us a good table Ė GZ has been featured just about everywhere in the past couple of months including Chicago Magazine, TimeOut Chicago magazine, the EatChicago blog, and Check, Please, the tv show about local restaurants, so it could potentially be a giant clusterfuck, but I think itís upscale enough so that they have their reservations and capacity issues set to make everyoneís dining experience really wonderful. Iím very excited about the innovative vegetarian cooking aspectĖ Iím always up for a dining experience where I will have no fears about gagging on fat blobs or gristle in my food. Iím going to try to hit the archery range in the morning. I still suck, but Iíve come to terms with it and I can now just enjoy it for what it is.

Sunday will be a home meal (hopefully) Ė maybe grilling out if the weather permits. The temperature has been bouncing around a lot the past two weeks from very chilly 50ís to the hot high-80ís with a few thunderstorms thrown in Ė hello weather whiplash. I canít decide if I need to bring my spring and summer clothes into my main closet or not. Earlier this week I was sweltering in shorts and a t-shirt and today Iím shivering in pants and a cashmere sweater. Anyway, for dinner on Sunday maybe weíll pick up something at Costco where we have to go on Sunday to get new tires for my Jeep. I have about 125K miles on it and I looked through the records to see when I bought my last set of tires and I was horrified to learn that it was at the 50K mile mark meaning that my current tires have over 70K miles on them. Iíll admit that theyíve held up well but Iím starting to fear detreading on the highway or spinning out going around a corner or something, so itís off to Costco we go. Steve got tires there for the truck and he seemed quite pleased with the selection and the service so Iíll give it a go.

Ooooh! I almost forgot to mention this! About two weeks ago I wrote a letter to the Pastor of the church across the street complaining about the various noise and courtesy violations that theyíve had over the last year or so - parties Ė both day and late night Ė with thumping music, mariachi bands at 5:15 am, illegal parishioner parking, and idling tour buses spewing diesel fumes at odd hours. It was a firm and to-the-point letter and I let a bunch of people read it first to make sure I didnít come off like a crazy ranting person. I figured that the letter would just get buried in church bureaucracy (after all, these Ďfuní parties and ceremonies help keep their congregation active and involved), but last night there was a message on the machine from Pastor Keehan asking to meet with Steve and I to discuss the issues I brought up in the letter. Iím tempted to ask our neighbor, Mr. Schulz (otherwise known as The Mayor Ė not of Chicago, just our little corner of it), and a couple of other neighbors if they want to come to the meeting too. Iím not sure if that would turn into some sort of lynch mob and put the pastor on edge, or if it would help my cause to show that Iím not the only one bothered by sleepless nights and early wake-up music. Iíll have to think on this and consult with some of my Catholic friends to see what they would advise. Thoughts?

1:31 p.m. - 2005-05-12


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