My overriding project for today is writing the monthly report. Which is to say, I'll spend most of the day not writing the monthly report. Which is to say, I'll write a line, then screw around for five minutes, then add another line, then screw around again...you get the picture. This is bad for my productivity, good for my LiveJournal.
Yesterday, I was again awakened too early by the clomping lovebirds upstairs. I really can't wait to move. After an hour, I gave up on gaining another wink of sleep and did massive laundry. I'm sure everything shrunk a size since I spent a lot of time on the phone with my older brother and Nibadi while the overpowered driers were running instead of vigilantly snatching items from their maws as the moisture was sucked from them.
I delayed lunch in order to take a nap, since I was meeting Monshu for a two-hour-plus film at the Film Centre in the middle of the afternoon. The nap concluded fifteen minutes before we were supposed to meet, which was, luckily, half-an-hour before showtime. Of course, it meant my "lunch" was a Snickers® bar and a packet of peanut butter crackers I snatched from 7-11® before grabbing a cab downtown.
It seemed half the local Dutch expat community was there for Krabbé's most recent work as a director, "The Discovery of Heaven". This was the film my Dutch buddy had mentioned doing some work on; I didn't spot his face, so I guess he wasn't an extra. It had some startling visuals (including a computer simulation of the interior of the Dome of the Rock), a magnificent performance by Stephen Fry, and many other positive qualities. The plot hinges on the theologically dodgy conceit that God has decided to abrogate the Covenant with humanity and he needs someone to bring his damn stone tablets back. We were sufficiently intrigued by this take that Monshu just ordered the translation of the Dutch source novel. (Anyone heard of Harry Mulisch? Apparently, he's been suggested as a Nobel prize contender--as if the Nobel had anything to do with literary quality, but there it is.)
Afterwards, we hopped the 151 to my neighbourhood, because I needed Monshu's help to reassemble my bed. Near North Bridge, we scooted over to make room for an Asian woman and her red-haired husband. He bopped me with his bag as he sat down, apologised, and made some remark about how this was an odd way to sight-see. I asked him where he was from. "Los Angeles."
"So, you got tired of all the warmth and decided you wanted to feel some bone-chilling cold?"
"I got tired of putting on sunscreen all the time."
He chatted me up about bus routes, the Chicago fire, the Lake, and city's foilage. As it turns out, he works for the power company out there and is actually giving away shade trees for people to plant near their houses in the hope of reducing AC consumption. His wife Chino was in town for, of all things, a fruit fly convention. They wanted to see Lincoln Park, so they hopped out in front of the Zoo with us. I instructed Don in how to walk on ice. (Chino already knew, having lived in Cleveland for a while.) We left them near Mon Ami Gabi with a recommendation and instructions on how to get back to the Loop.
Monshu and I put my place to rights and I talked him into trying out Turkish Cuisine and Bakery. It seems to have made a good impression despite some missteps: There was only one waitress for the whole place and the appetiser, light zucchini fritters called mucver, were blackened to a crisp. However, he liked the bread and the kuşbaşı pide and my quails were tasty. As I was waiting to pay, one of the bakers introduced me to the products on the trays. I think the sesame rings were called semel and cheese bread poca, but I missed the name of the syrup-soaked semolina cake that he gave me for free.
That reminds me that I still have one of the poca I bought and it has "breakfast" written all over it.
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