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muckefuckThis morning on the radio, they were saying that the Illinois Highway Patrol was advising people to "stay home or take mass transit" and I was all like, HELL no! Stay off my train, you foul-weather transit riders!
Perhaps it's milder by the Lake, because it wasn't half the storm I was expecting. Sure, the wind howled all night outside my bedroom and, in the morning, some windows across the street were plastered over with horizontally-driven snow. But, actually, once you walked a few paces up the block, the wind died down almost completely and the greatest obstacle became the massive piles of slush and the pools of meltwater they were holding back from the drains.
After a bit, I was even questioning eighty-sixing my plans to stroll along the Lake and take in the scenery, but that changed when I hit E-ton and there was enough winter wonderland just along my route to work that I felt reasonably satisfied. The hawthorns, their every thorn limned with snow dramatically setting off their luscious red berries, are looking especially lovely. And this just confirms my prejudice against trees-of-heaven. Nothing can ever make those trash trees look like anything but a dog's breakfast.
So far, my greatest hardship has been a power failure in the b-school, so rather than hot 'n' tasty biscuits and sausage, my breakfast is boring old trail mix (or, for you neo-hippies out there, "borp"). No, when it's really going to suck ash is tomorrow after the temperatures plunge and all the compacted slush on the sidewalks freezes into solid blocks of treacherous ice. On my way in, I was mentally tallying houses and storefronts to avoid because the window for easily clearing the walks in front of them is rapidly closing with no sign of activity.
Perhaps it's milder by the Lake, because it wasn't half the storm I was expecting. Sure, the wind howled all night outside my bedroom and, in the morning, some windows across the street were plastered over with horizontally-driven snow. But, actually, once you walked a few paces up the block, the wind died down almost completely and the greatest obstacle became the massive piles of slush and the pools of meltwater they were holding back from the drains.
After a bit, I was even questioning eighty-sixing my plans to stroll along the Lake and take in the scenery, but that changed when I hit E-ton and there was enough winter wonderland just along my route to work that I felt reasonably satisfied. The hawthorns, their every thorn limned with snow dramatically setting off their luscious red berries, are looking especially lovely. And this just confirms my prejudice against trees-of-heaven. Nothing can ever make those trash trees look like anything but a dog's breakfast.
So far, my greatest hardship has been a power failure in the b-school, so rather than hot 'n' tasty biscuits and sausage, my breakfast is boring old trail mix (or, for you neo-hippies out there, "borp"). No, when it's really going to suck ash is tomorrow after the temperatures plunge and all the compacted slush on the sidewalks freezes into solid blocks of treacherous ice. On my way in, I was mentally tallying houses and storefronts to avoid because the window for easily clearing the walks in front of them is rapidly closing with no sign of activity.
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I called Kitsune and ordered up another coat and some sweaters: got soaked from the knees down at the bus stop and I'm still not completely dry.
I'm thinking no on the ceilidh.
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I hope one of your co-workers had a lap quilty to offer you.
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I have my shawl over my legs.
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Anyway, my brother (a U of C student) really would like some Nepali food. I figured you might know of a good Nepali restaurant in town. You seem to know a lot of restaurants! Any thoughts? Thanks.
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As for Nepali restaurants, I know of one, but it's (a) not especially good and (b) not technically in town. Mount Everest in Evanston claims to be Nepali, but I can't judge, having no idea what's considered traditional Nepali cuisine. I'm chiefly familiar with their lunch buffet, which is passable North Indian cafeteria-style food.