Random Rim Jobs

I’ve not lived without an ice maker for as long as I’ve not lived without a dishwasher, about ten years, but here I am surviving without either.  Yes, these are privileged people problems, and I don’t deny it.

I’m spoiled. I’m still not living without an in-unit washer and dryer.  Basically, when my ex-husband and I bought a place back in 2003, it included amenities that we had theretofore not encountered as adults, including in-unit washer/dryer, ice maker, and dishwasher.  I thought I couldn’t go back after having lived with each of them, but here I am surviving sans both dishwasher and ice maker.

We live very close to a bar/liquor store where we can buy ice.  I’ve never seen bar/liquor stores anywhere but Chicago, and I’ve heard that the licenses for such are no longer being issued, so any such establishments have necessarily been around for a while and are quite rare.  Yes, these places are both bars and liquor stores.  Think of your average dive bar, now add a liquor store to it.  Yes, the business model is glorious.  A bag of ice costs only $2, and it’s tasty and clear and good.

But I’ve begun to be an ice maker.  An ice producer?  We “stole” a clear plastic fridge bin from our old place, a bin into which I thought we’d toss random condiments and such, but which I quickly realized would be a suitable ice bin in our new ice maker-free freezer.  My ice maker job is to pour Brita-filtered water into ice trays and then put the frozen results in the bin so we can use up the ice.

We use a lot of ice.  I like my vodka sodas full of ice; the glass is jam packed with the stuff.  I also use some ice in my water.  The Viking has taken to drinking well-iced and carbonated (via the Soda Stream) water on the regular.

We got the Brita pitcher because the Viking hated the unfiltered tap water at our new place.  Our old place had a fridge-mounted filter and water dispenser, but the new place does not.  The Viking hated the tap water so much that he not-drank himself into dehydration and physical illness so a Brita was absolutely necessary.  I have to admit that the filtered water tastes much better than the plain tap version, even if it is from Lake Michigan.

Though I’ve had ice makers for the better part of a decade, we had acquired some ice cube trays.  Sure, we have the boring “cubes” (which aren’t actually “cubes”), but we also have some pretty ice cube trays.  I was on a kick of making boozy jelly shots not long after we moved to Chicago so we had acquired a few fun-shaped ice cube trays to make the experience of ingesting tasty gelled booze that much better.  Now that we don’t have an ice maker, and I’m kind of over the gelatin shots of tasty boozy “drinks,” (though I hope to get back to ‘em) we’re using the ice cube trays as … ice cube trays.  There are flowers, starfish, and fish, all conveniently sized to fit between the relatively large cubes.

What are actually large, and mostly cube-like, are the “fashionable” extra-large cubes, the moulds of which are sold everywhere, including museum stores, and the expected stores.  The Viking had been looking at the silicone trays longingly so when I bought the Brita I picked up a tray.  These are the huge ice cubes that sit one to a glass and are great for bourbon.

Because all the nicest bars – Barrelhouse Flat, the Violet Hour, Scofflaw – have different types of ice for different kinds of drinks.  We used to live within walking distance of Barrelhouse Flat, a place I often met OkCupid guys.  Except for the one asshole who, when the bill came, said, “I hope you have money,” the guys I met there were generous and appreciative of the crafted cocktails (the asshole drank only beer).

I went to the Violet Hour once, when I met another OkCupid guy.  He clearly wasn’t interested in me, which was fine, but I really liked the Violet Hour and knew the Viking would love it.  He still hasn’t been, but there may not be a reason considering our new real estate.

We now live steps away from Scofflaw.  We’ve yet to go, but the Viking assures me that he will be a regular.  All of these bars are related by their bartenders, mixologists, chefs, what have you, so we know we’ll like Scofflaw as much as we like Barrelhouse Flat, and as much as I like the Violet Hour.

I like me a dive bar, and I can definitely picture myself at the bar/liquor store in the future that’s not too far away, but the classy bars are appreciated as well.  It will be at the classier joint that will be the base for meeting OkC guys.  If the fucktards can’t be bothered to buy me some decent – read, $9 to $12 – drinks then they’re not worth fucking.  Let me make it clear that it’s not solely about the money, it’s also about the effort. Politeness and effort can get a guy pretty far.

I swear.  True story.

[Yes, I know reading about ice cube shapes is boring as shit. I'm not sorry, but please bear with me as I settle into my new apartment, neighborhood, and volunteer work.  Eventually I'll be back to the threesomes and such … I hope.]

We lived for over two years in an apartment that was so close to the L tracks that we very rarely opened any windows, even on the most temperate of days, because the noise from the trains passing by was too much.  We lived for over two years in an apartment that was so close to the L tracks that we rarely spent any time outside on our balcony, porch, or back yard, even on the most temperate of days, because the noise from the trains passing by was too much.

It has pretty suddenly gone from a spring that was mostly in the 40s to one that’s mostly in the 80s.  Since we now live in a place that has no L tracks within earshot, and since all of the windows have screens, we’ve opened the windows to let in the pleasant breezes and air that’s as fresh as can be for a busy avenue in a major US city.

Though we’ve still not “set up” our grill (read, the Viking needs to clean it since he neglected to do so before the end of last grilling season) it was so warm recently that we ate dinner outside.  I look forward to grilled vegetables, my favorite food of all time.

Opening our windows has allowed us to hear our neighbors, a small group (still not sure how many actually live there) of 20-somethings whose back porch is about level with – and just outside – our bedroom windows (there are two).  They like to sing.  They like to turn all-white Doc Martin-style boots into ombré white-to-grey-to-black boots (which looked cool as shit).  They like to say things like, “Ssssh, we should be quiet, we have neighbors now.”  It’s a good thing the Viking is a deep sleeper because the neighbors hang out on their porch chatting and such well into the night (after 2am).  There may be some stern admonitions in the future ….

Because before we lived in our place, no one did.  And before that, there was construction of our current building.  And before that, it was an empty lot.  Chicago has a lot of empty lots, many more than I saw in San Francisco.  Yes, I know that Chicago is a much larger city than San Francisco, and I’m not comparing them one-to-one, but I’m still amazed at how many empty and neglected lots I see in what seem to otherwise be viable neighborhoods.

Just after a couple of days of very warm weather, it cooled down significantly, something that seems to be common to Chicago springs – a few really nice days followed by several days that require heavier jackets, if not gloves and hats.  But all through it, we can open our windows if we choose.  I think our gas (furnace) and electricity (air conditioning) bills will be much less than they were at our old place because we’ll be relying on fresh air more often, and because the new building likely has better insulation considering it’s new.

There’s a “bar & grill” – read, “nightclub” – in the building right next door.  We can hear the thumping music through the walls on the weekends.  Still, it’s quieter than the L trains were at the last place, even with the windows closed, and if we ever have guests who drive we can offer them the valet services that are right down stairs.

Our living room has a Juliet balcony so on warm weekend nights it can be quite entertaining to look down on the nightclub’s drunken patrons.  Drunks can be entertaining.

The lots in this neighborhood are huge!  Lincoln Park’s lots are smaller, due to property values as well as the L tracks cutting off a lot a real estate.  And of course they’re larger than San Francisco’s.  Really, I’ve not seen yards of this size since I lived in the ‘burbs as a child.  One yard that’s fenced, but not gated, and strewn with trash, Isis and I treat as a grassy “park” where she can snack on grass (which she does in the spring) and poop.  Of course I clean up after her even though the building’s tenants don’t seem to give a fuck.  There’s another building that’s grass is overgrown and which I’m pretty sure has no tenants; Isis loves the overgrown grassy yard.  We have no yard at all; the real estate that’s not taken up with building is parking.

We (Isis and I) have met Leo, the local feral cat man.  He assured me the local kitties, which he feeds via food from a neighborhood rescue organization, are fixed, and tame enough for him to pet.  All I know is that I saw a shit ton of rats in the alleys of the old hood, and I’ve seen none in the alleys of the new hood, and I’m pretty sure the outdoor kitties should be given credit.  I told Leo that I volunteer for PAWS, which clearly gave me some cred, since he told me he had adopted his dog from the organization.

I wasn’t lying, I do volunteer for PAWS Chicago.  The adoption center is only a bus ride from our current apartment, but it was just walking distance from our old place; I should have begun volunteering there just after we moved to Chicago, over two years ago, but I didn’t know about the place.  Now, I go in for shifts at either Kitty City or Dog Town about once a week.  Yes, that’s what the organization has named its cat and dog areas, respectively.

After attending a volunteer expo, I found several organizations to which I’ve decided to give my time, including PAWS Chicago, the Lincoln Park Zoo, and the city pound.  The private organization, PAWS, is the one that’s been easiest to actually do things for since there’s so much less bureaucracy to deal with.  For example, to volunteer for the city pound I had to go to City Hall to submit my finger prints so a background check could be run before I could actually begin walking dogs and socializing kitties for Chicago Animal Care and Control.  I was fingerprinted in late March and I’m still waiting – in early May – to hear from the City that I’m good to go.  I understand that the Chicago doesn’t want animal fuckers “playing” with the dogs and cats, but I can’t imagine the excessive wait does’t cause a lot of potential volunteers to lose interest.

I’ll attend a daylong orientation at the zoo next week, and then begin gardening on the zoo’s grounds soon thereafter, but I’ve already done a few shifts of actually volunteering at PAWS.  Lincoln Park Zoo is free so it relies on volunteers and City funding.  I’m not fully supportive of zoos – those animals should not be kept in pens – but I like gardening (and don’t have any other opportunity to do so) and feel that if there is to be a zoo it should be as nice as it possibly can.

Gardening at the zoo is another chance for me to get fresh air, albeit whilst wearing strong sunscreen.  I had really missed fresh air in our last apartment, but I think this one will allow me to appreciate Chicago anew.

I swear.  True story.