Oneidine 13, 27. Part 1.

CONCEPT

COMMENTS:
- You'll have to forgive me. In last several days I've either posted what's silly and strange, or nothing at all. It's one of those quirks of life that there's the least time to write when there's the most to write about.
- Last Wednesday. I went to Assumption Church for the fourth day of the octave. Work lasted until about 5:30. Moments after the clouds broke, Jess picked up Steve and I outside the hospital and took us over to Wildfire, a steakhouse in River North. We shared a bottle of red wine and I had horseradish seasoned cake. It was spectacular. We shared stories about growing up in smaller places and coming to the big city. Jess gave me a ride home afterwards... as we left the restaurant, the rain was still coming down in bucketfuls, but it has largely subsided by the time she dropped me off. Still, Sam and I gaped at the giant curtains and forks and specters of lighting shearing down off the lake.
But... I left my backpack at Jess'. I'm crippled without my backpack.
- Last Thursday. I went to St. Ita's in Edgewater for the fifth day of the octave. We had a very light patient load that day, so I didn't even arrive at work until 11:30. I left at 1:45, rode down to Hyde Park, and picked up my backpack. At this point I should have hustled back to Chinatown, and finished off my pictures before returning to Hyde Park by eight, but instead, I wasted about three hours at the 2nd Floor Coffee Shop. Still, it was nice to spend some time at the old hangout, even if I wasn't doing anything particularly useful. I met Jess when she finished work about six, and we went out for dinner at Maravillas. Then, after stopping back at her apartment for a couple minutes, we hustled over to Courtenay's for a Scavhunt meeting. It went well into the night, and was productive. With boiling blood near the end. Red blood.
- Last Friday. I went to Old St. Patrick's in the West Loop for the sixth day of the octave. I'll describe the church later, but here I'll call attention to the walk back. I love moving from the Loop to the Near North Side, because it's all Big Buildings and Big People, but all Big for very different reasons. On south Wacker there were valet meter... yes, human "parking meters." They took the drivers' time, then parallel parked along the curb. And of course, the buildings themselves are massive, but Wacker is so broad shouldered on its own it has quite a presence. I crossed at Franklin, walked north along Orleans, where all the upscale Italian restaurants were getting their bearings for the morning, and then up on Erie, I walked east, through the Cathedral District, through the Mag Mile, and on to Streeterville, with his hotels, bistros, and parking lots. All this takes place in under two miles.
I left work at about four, and went home for a nap and some food. Sam got home at around six, and later we were joined by Sky, Bill, and Coral. At 9:30 we left for the Heartland Cafe in Rogers Park, so we could hear the Chicago Jazz Conspiracy. But Coral fell while we were running for the train and got her hand cut up.
In an accidentally asshole moment, I asked if she got hurt. She said something amounting to "yes" which I heard as something amounting to "no," and answered, "well that's good, because it looked really funny."
These mishaps notwithstanding we did make it to the Heartland (which is, again, something in Chicago that I cherish and will miss very much), and sat through two jazz groups, managing to close the joint. Incidentally, Sky convinced us that Maple Trees had to be tapped or they'd explode... that this was the cause of dozens of deaths annually in New England. April Fools! (My April Fool prank this year was lame.)
After getting home, we stayed up and talked until three thirty. I went to bed. I was the first to go to bed.
- On Saturday I went to St. Gertrude's in Edgewater for the seventh day of the octave. I didn't wear a coat, and while it was chilly enough to numb my fingers, I didn't regret the choice. Going without a coat when one shouldn't is part of the joy of spring.
When I got home, I was going to take a nap, but Sky and Coral persuaded me to stick around for breakfast. We dragged Sam out of bed, then drove out to Kopi for coffee and discussion. In fact, we ended up entertaining the whole place with an energetic clash over the possibility and/or suppression of free energy technology. Essentially, my point was that "if that kind of technology were readily available, it couldn't be suppressed," and Skylar and Sam argued, "yes it could," though later on, Sam began talking about Legos or Monsters or something like that.
We returned to the apartment and took a nap which was eventually interrupted by a inquiry as to whether I'd like to consolidate my loans (I get about a dozen such offers each week; my loans have been consolidated for close to two years now). Then I took Sky and Coral on a pictoral tour of Armour Square, interrupted by news of the pope's death.
Jessica came over and picked me up, and we went shopping at Unique and Target. I dropped too much money. We got home, just as Sam and co. were leaving to see "Sin City." Jess and I had pasties for dinner.
- Yesterday I returned to St. Gertrude's for Divine Mercy Sunday, the eighth and last day of the octave. We were treated to a humorous but insightful half-hour homily on the last hundred years of the papacy. The message could be distilled into an old Italian saying: "After a fat pope, a thin pope." This, of course, meant that we'd rush through the Litergy of the Eucharist in about fifteen minutes, and I took a pleasant walk home along Glenwood, Early, and on up Winthrop and Kenmore.
Jess and I picked up Greg and headed out to Blue Island (making a wrong turn at Indiana) for a role-playing session in which many evil psions were killed, and I ceded my status as a prophet for Gruum'sh (sp, I know). Jess and I got home just as the shadows were dying (thank you, daylight savings time), and I made us ham sandwiches for dinner. We watched Desperate Housewives, and then, Jess persuaded me to take a look at Gray's Anatomy. I enjoyed it. But it's really sick. I spend forty hours each week in a hospital. Why would I want to watch a medical drama. I keep waiting for the one that features the adventures and exploits of the clerical staff, other than some life-endangering blunder once per season.

But I'm not sarcastic when I say that I enjoyed it.