What is the deal with the creepy King?

Has anyone seen those "wake-up with the King" commercials? I'm pretty sure bodily harm would be visited to anyone who did this to me. Tony jokingly said that he was going to arrange to have me woken by the King but I think the look I gave him actually made him shudder. I'm not the sun-shiniest person you have ever met in the morning (or at any point, really); he wakes me very calmly each morning and I guarantee you it's only in his interest of self-preservation. He contends that I should come with instructions that say, "light fuse and get away". I would argue but that's pretty much bang-on.

OK . . . enough about my morning surliness; how freaking creepy is "the King" anyway? I'm not sure who thought that was a good idea but that guy is the stuff night terrors are made of.

Some People's Kids . . .

It isn't the visual of the guy taking the header into the sign so much as the "thud" his head makes coupled with the stifled laughter of the person holding the camera that makes this so deliciously amusing.

It Won't Hurt, I Promise . . .

            
Wonderful Pistachios is running a contest where you submit a :15 or :30-second video to show how you "Get Crackin' ". Their current spots show "clever" ways that people crack open their pistachios and the contest is an open call for the best audience submission around that theme. The winning submission gets $25 large.



Tony won't agree to participate because he is convinced "it will end poorly" for him. I think it was me laughing myself into a seizure that scared him off.

He should just trust me . . . what could possibly go wrong?

Tramps Like Us

 

I have been a Bruce Springsteen fan since I was about 5 or 6 years old. A much older neighbor boy was belting out the lyrics to Born to Run as his sisters and I played with our Barbies; he was doing his best to be an annoyance but the lyrics somehow stuck with me. I don't think I quite understood all of the imagery portrayed in the music but I was hooked nonetheless.

Last night Bruce played the United Center in Chicago for the second time in the last 5 months. I had skipped the show back in May because I’m less of a fan of his newer material and having seen him a number of times before, I was content to take a pass. I didn’t feel any different when the September show was announced and had no plans to attend. I admit, everyone raving about the May show and the debut of Jay Weinberg filling in for his Dad on drums did stir some interest, but I still felt no overwhelming desire to get tickets. Until . . . it was announced that at this particular show Bruce and the E Street Band would be playing the Born to Run album in its entirety, something they had done only once before.

Because of the risk of sounding like even more of a super nerd (and because I live with someone who absolutely loathes Bruce and I don't need to give him any further ammunition to skewer my musical preferences) I won’t describe in detail how I feel about this album. In short, I think that every song stands well on its own but the collection of music together makes a powerful statement and the album is still culturally and musically relevant 34 years later.

I was impatient as the show began and they didn’t launch right into the album (I have a defense mechanism firmly in place that prepares me for soul-sucking disappointment so I was sure that perhaps they had changed their minds) but after a few warm-up songs Bruce casually began rolling-up his sleeves. He stepped to the mic and started talking about the album and the cross-roads it represented for the band. Having released two critically-acclaimed, yet commercially overlooked albums in rapid succession, Born to Run at the time represented the last shot they would be given by Columbia Records.

The album was played in sequence beginning with the lonely whine of a harmonica on Thunder Road and ending with the poetic heartbreak of Jungleland. As all music has the power to transport you to another place and time, this was no different. If you pay attention it is easy to hear the pain-staking detail that went into this album. The images portrayed by the lyrics coupled with music that evokes feelings of despair tempered with hope are a potent combination. Every song was executed flawlessly and this show now easily ranks among my all-time favorites (Bruce or otherwise).

The night continued once the album portion was finished and the rest of the show felt like the appropriate combination of reflection and celebration. Bruce turned 60 this week and while he seems to be defying the effects of passing time, his band is aging around him. Clarence now requires the assistance of a cane and electric lift to leave the stage, Danny is now gone and this show had the feeling that the long and glorious run of Bruce and the E Street Band was now coming to a close. For one perfect night though, it seemed like 1975 all over again . . .

Lincoln Square Farmer's Market

  

We both love to wander aimlessly on the weekend, running errands and just following the day wherever it takes us. Admittedly the day sometimes doesn’t venture too far from the couch but some days take us to interesting places.

Today we ventured to the Logan Square Farmer’s Market. I am a lover of all types of markets big and small (see previous post) and I visit them as often as I can; even if just to browse for inspiration. I have long been aware of the Logan Square market but had never wandered over there. We had a mission to accomplish this day, we had to pick-up our meat share from the local farmer from whom we get our meat and eggs.

It was one of those crisp early fall days that make you not mind that fall is coming faster than you wish it was. We did not have a need for vegetables as we had just picked-up our veggies earlier in the week (different farmer) but we did find some coffee and a little breakfast. We have been on a crepe kick lately (all health, all the time) and found a stand within the market to fill the void. While the crepes ended-up being disappointing, overall it was a great day.

If you haven't been to one of the farmer's markets in the area, I encourage you to seek one out. It's a great way to spend a few hours on the weekend and you may find some inspiration for a meal or two. If you already have a meal plan in mind, the market is a great way to get organic, seasonal produce at much better prices than the local chain grocery stores and the bonus is you will be supporting a local farmer with your purchase.

To market, to market . . .

It's hard to beat a good market. Even if you aren't a cook, wandering through a bustling market can be inspiring. We headed off to Cleveland this weekend to attend the wedding of a co-worker. Since we are both fans of the city (sounds odd but you should really check it out for yourself) we headed out early to visit some of our favorite haunts. Among the places we visited was the West Side Market, Cleveland's oldest publicly-owned market which dates back to 1840.

I’m a nerd. I’m OK with that. I think the reason I'm continuously drawn to the West Side is because we don’t have anything of that scale in Chicago (I feel similarly about the St. Lawrence Market in Toronto). Even though I'm visiting, and therefore cannot shop as I would locally, I could spend hours wandering aimlessly amongst all of the purveyor stalls daydreaming about the endless meals I could create for family and friends. I love not only the local vegetables, meat, fish, cheese and endless bakery items you can find there but also the energy and buzz of the market. There is something innately satisfying about wandering through on a Saturday morning.

As much as I love visiting Cleveland, my heart belongs to Chicago, so I won't be moving anytime soon. I will however, continue to search for the very best of the local farmer's markets and I will carry the inspiration of my visit to the West Side Market with me.

Is it really schadenfreude if you sometimes feel bad?

    
Schadenfreude is a German word that means "pleasure derived from the misfortune of others". I wouldn't say that I derive pleasure from all misfortune, just the kind of misfortune that the misfortunate had some control over. Someone losing their job, falling down the stairs or getting a flat tire is not funny. Someone hurting themselves while showing off? Now that's funny.

There are a few exceptions to the earlier rule, instances where you will find me laughing until I freaking pass-out at some poor soul who had no control over their particular situation. These instances all have three things in common: they have some element of physical humor, the person was not seriously hurt and I feel really, really bad that I derived so much pleasure from their mishap. Frau Schadenfreude is a nickname given to me by Tony after one too many rewinds of the paperboy in "While You Were Sleeping". If you're not familiar, it involves a paperboy going ass-over-appetite as he throws papers from his bike while encountering a patch of ice.

It's a sickness. I know. I come by it naturally though . . . have you ever met my Mom? She is a kind, God-fearing woman who wouldn't hurt a fly but if the fly racks himself while trying to impress his friends? That changes everything. Her and I together are regularly moved to tears (not the sympathetic kind) while watching something as benign as those home video shows. My Dad just shakes his head and says, "You two are sick". 

All in all, not that interesting but I figured you might be wondering where the crazy name came from.