They Kept Their Word

Mt. Carmel finally finished their turf installation for the annual Brown and White intra squad game last Saturday.

The pictures on the Mt. Carmel's website are much better than what I can take with my cell phone from my balcony.

The nice wrought iron fence is (mostly) erected and everything looks sparkly and new.

Don't even get me started about that fabulous new sidewalk.

Moreover, the tall grasses and weeds have been cleared out. They also put down the grass seed as promised.

How that grass seed is going to grown on dry dusty ground that doesn't get any water is beyond me. Then of course, I had my doubts about the spray on grass that was put down last year with the other sidewalk installation.

What do I know?

The point is they kept up their end of the deal.

My question is will Mt. Carmel continue to do so when they don't have a lawn service picking up the trash on the parkway?

I'm keeping my fingers crossed but my eyes peeled.

65th Place

So what's up with the work stoppage on 65th Place?

The three buildings on the south west corner are mostly completed but haven't been finished. As a matter of fact, I haven't seen anyone on the worksite for months.

And while we're on the subject, not only hasn't Living Green lofts broke ground, but it's website has gone MIA. Oddly enough, a random listing or two can be found if you poke around searching real estate listings.

Everything seemed so promising just a scant year ago.

I believe that developers are feeling the heat from this real estate downturn. They very well may not be able to afford to finish and market new construction.

What ever the case, it would be nice if the buildings could be completed so they don't attract the wrong element.

That's all we need----higher end abandoned buidlings.

Wonder Twin Powers

So there I was slinging hash and hustling drinks last night when one of my co-workers came up to me and said, “Do you have a blog?”

Damn, I’d been spotted---again.

I rarely talk about the blog in work situations---the restaurant is no exception---so when she asked me that question I knew someone out on the floor knew me.

The pleasant surprise is that I had been spotted by the infamous “Chicago Pop” of Hyde Park Progress fame.

He was taking a meal with his lovely wife and spotted yours truly dealing with a table of 4 adults and 4 small children.

Don’t ask.

In the interest of disclosure, Chicago Pop and I had previously been in touch and I invited him to come into the restaurant so we could meet.

I also sent him a picture.

Asking the man to identify me by the fact that I’m a tall, substantial, black woman is like me trying to find the “smart kid” at the University of Chicago.

I had to give the man something to go on.

Since that was some time ago, it was great to finally meet one of the people behind HPP.

Mrs. Chicago Pop was a hoot and a holler as well.

Unfortunately we didn’t have much time to chat as people seem to want their drinks in a timely manner on a warm Saturday night.

I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again in the near future.

God be willing there will be plenty of time to talk.

‘Cause there’s certainly is a lot to talk about.

To The Market I Go

These are the sights I see when I go to the Woodlawn Farmer's market on Saturdays.


Once I hit Dorchester I pass by Apostolic Church. The flowers in the parking medians are just the living end.



As I keep on heading north on Dorchester, around 62nd Street, I was struck by how nice the lawn looked at this house.

So I keep on walking north until I hit 61st Street and the sign welcoming me to the Woodlawn Farmer's Market.

Yeah we don't have alot of booths---yet. Hope springs eternal for next year though.

Crepes in Woodlawn? Who knew?

Tomato Mountain Farms organic Habanero Salsa. If you like hot, I strongly suggest you pick up a jar. It's fire.

Bleeding Heart Bakery. I love them. Their Goat Cheese and Basil croissants are the shit. I wish they would come to the market every week.

Hopefully our little market will be teeming with vendors in '09. Woodlawn needs more fruits, vegetables and flowers too.

So Much For The Peace and Quiet

These motherfuckers have lost their everlovin' minds.

The question in my mind is if you know that your presence on the corner might draw gunfire, why do you stand there?

When I went out to purchase detergent from the corner store (Dan Allan in the WGN piece is the owner) on Monday night, I reminded myself to get there before 8:50 as the store closes at 9:00.

Why?

'Cause I didn't want to be there during the last ten minutes of the business day---that's when stick up guys tend to rob places.

Of course I also passed the horde of teenagers and young people that congregate on and near the corner where the shooting occured.

I will start putting in calls during my lunch hour today to find out who's who and what's what.

If we don't get a handle on all of this violence, the only thing Chicago's gonna get is kicked in our overfed Midwestern asses, not the Olympics.

Motherfuckers.

The Corner

The sound of gunfire is unmistakable.

So I knew what I was hearing at 6:30 tonight.

I just didn’t know what direction the gunfire was coming from. If memory serves me correctly, about six shots rang out.

Believe it or not, I completely dismissed the whole incident. I figured if it was really gunfire I’d soon hear the wail of police sirens.

I kept on about my business---surfing the internet, watering the flowers and taking out the trash. Not really paying attention to what was going on outside.

It was when I was coming back up stairs from the alley that my next door neighbor (yes, the one who put out the fire) asked me if I heard the shots.

Great. Just fucking great.

I knew there had been two shootings or attempted shootings in the past month.

All shootings jumped off not even a block from my little floral paradise at the corner of 65th and Stony Island.

That’s where a group of aimless youth---some of whom I believe live in the building on the northwest corner of the intersection---tend to gather.

Now that’s definitely fodder for another post but let me go on record by saying that I don’t like any group of teenagers “hanging out.”

You know what I like even less?

Groups of young men “hanging out”---especially during a warm and violent summer that we’ve had on the south side.

It's been crack-a-lacking over in South Shore this summer. There's a reason why they call it Terror Town. Frankly I was hoping, if you’ll excuse the pun, that we had dodged a bullet.

Apparently that ain't the case.

Well that’s the assumption I made since I can stand on my front balcony and look at the pretty flashing blue lights on top of the police cars that are lining Stony from 64th to 65th.

Allegedly today’s shooting may have also involved an innocent bystander on the street, the passengers and driver of the north bound 6 Stony Island bus.

Let’s say it all together----Delightful.

Are you fucking kidding me?

You’ll have to excuse the language---I swear up a blue streak when I get agitated. Hell, I don’t think I said anything fit for family consumption for a month after September 11th.

But I’m sure you can understand.

Now I don’t know if the aimless youths are beefin with another group of aimless youths. I don’t know why after two years of their shiftless presence in our happy little hood is the shit is hitting the fan, but I can tell you this:

Those young men and women, their friends, whomever they live with and their landlord is now officially on my radar.

I make 40 in 13 days, I’ll be damned if I get shot over some stupid gangbanger shit that I don’t have jack shit to do with.

Motherfuckers.

Where's My Curl Activator

J.C. Penny, my ass...

God, isn't teenage angst sacred? I know I'm getting old, but come on.

Don't make me have to squeeze into my high school cheerleading uniform. Trust me on this---nobody wins. You, me or the seams on the doubleknit pleated skirt.

But Will She Name Names?

That sign ain't bullshitin'.

Ironically, it sits at the corner of 64th and Dorchester in the 20th Ward. Yes the same ward of the former Alderwoman Arenda Troutman.

You know the former alderman who just plead guilty to charges of mail fraud and tax evasion related to corruption charges of soliciting bribes from real estate developers.

We all know what the newspapers say.

And the Department of Justice's affidavit is enlightening. Note how certain banks got put on blast.

But what inquiring minds want to know is what other developers paid to play?

The Clue Phone Is Ringing

A reality check (along with my translation) that tempers the celebrating of my upcoming milestone birthday:

Dear Woody:

This is to inform you of an upcoming change in your premium charge. As a result of the recent birthday (you old broad)for the above referenced member, your policy premium has been adjusted (cause your girly parts are gonna need more maintenance). Please note the new amount and date so that you may plan for your automatice payment withdrawal.

Premium rates are established for age and geographic location, among other factors. In keeping with the industry practices (so we can make a business case to jack you for more cash), we review premium charges assessed to each of our policyholders on certain birthdays. For future reference, it may be helpful to know exactly when our premium rate reviews take place; at ages 6, 15, 20, 25, 30, 35, 40, 45, 50, 55, 60 and 65.

If you have any questions (like we care), or if we may be or assistance to you, (my ass) please call our customer service department at 1-800-538-8833.

Sincerely,

Membership Services
Blue Cross Blue Shield of Illinois

Industry practices. premium rate reviews. Bah---humbug. I better pile up some cash in the upcoming years. I can only imagine what would happen to my rates if I made a major claim.

Jesus take the wheel.

The Second Report

The first report on the state of Carlton Knight’s Harvey rental properties painted some dismal conditions at the three buildings.

The second report finds that the receiver hired both an architect and a general contractor to inspect the property per a court order. “The basic conclusion from the reports is that the property, while structurally sound is in need of major repairs.”

Shocker.

As if things couldn’t weren’t bad enough for the folks living at the rentals named The Rose (indeed), they also had a little issue with their water pipes and sewers.

More specifically on December 26th, 2007 “two water pipes broke, the sewers backed up and waste was coming up the drains in the utility room in the 15144 building.”

Merry Christmas.

According to the report, the issue was immediately fixed (yuck!) and then the plumbers came back out on January 14, 2008 to complete a more extensive repair. “They noted that the sewer lines were old and some of the lines had extensive debris in them that was affecting the pitch of the sewers.”

I wonder if this is how Mr. Knight is “involved in all aspects of operations.” Letting the sewer lines get so backed up that his former tenants were swimming in shit.

The inspection reports read like a laundry list of repairs. I’ll save you the boring parts and get down to brass tacks.

The construction totals are as follows:

Misc. Exterior Work-----$28,600.00
Interior Work------------$326,500.00
HVAC Repairs--------------$15,000.00 to $20,000.00
Other Capital Repairs--$144,200.00

Yowsa that’s a lot a scratch.

At the time of the report, one tenant had moved out to a nursing home and three tenants vacated their units as of January 31st. So if I’m doing my math correctly that would of put the occupancy rate at 25 units that were unoccupied at the time.

Which would explain the dismal cash situation.

“As of December 7, 2007 the receiver had $6,770.98 in its account. From December 7, 2007 to January 23, 2008 the receiver collected $11,999.00 in rents and paid $17,862.23 in expenses. The case balances as of January 24th, 2008 is $907.75.”

That’s some thin margins to operate and maintain an apartment building.

2008 Version, Part 2

Now, the front.

2008 Version

A lot of things got sacrificed this year due to unemployment but the garden wasn't one of them. Don't worry kids, I caught the end of the stock sales in mid June and put both the back and front gardens down for a steal.

Seriously.

We all have little things that keep us sane and grounded; gardening just happens to me mine. I shudder to think of the bundle of joy I'd be without watering and deadheading flowers.

Despite the fact it went down pretty late in the season, I think everything has grown in nicely.

For your viewing pleasure---the back porch.

Suckers

Who in their right mind would allow me to voice my opinions on the radio?

Hey it's not Oprah, but it's a start.

The First Report

Gainful employment has rendered me able to get back digging through my developer’s court records.

Funny how not worrying about money frees you to pursue other interests.

And as you all know, Mr. Knight’s legal predicaments happens to be one of mine.

In an earlier post, I detailed the initial paperwork of the lawsuit filed by Inland Bank and Trust against Carlton Knight for $1,120,000.

At the time I first viewed the court papers in December of last year, Mr. Knight had fought the lender’s attempt to have the property put into receivership.

For those of you who aren’t familiar with receivership it’s when “a creditor can enforce security against a company's assets in an effort to obtain repayment of the secured debt.”

In other words a receiver “distributes the proceeds to creditors and can also complete the administration of the estate.”

Or at least that’s what Wikipedia says.

According to papers obtained from the Clerk of the Circuit Court of Cook County that’s exactly what happened.

The first receiver’s report reads like a primer for mismanaging a rental property. Out of 40 units the receiver said that 14 units were “nearly uninhabitable,” 7 were in “inhabitable but in poor condition” and 20 are in “reasonable condition.”

Oh yeah, if the number 14 + 7 + 20 don’t equal 40 it’s because one of the units was used as an onsite property management office.

The report further states that “poor conditions stem mostly from damaged seals along windows/doors that allowed water to get under the tile and carpet and mold in the walls, damaged/broken appliances, damaged cabinets, broken sinks, etc.”

I wonder if this is the “hands on, proactive management philosophy” that Mr. Knight espouses on his website?”

Again the report states that 20 of the 41 units are unoccupied and that the vacant units are “frequently vandalized and the doors are kicked in.”

Nice.

“It appears that the portions of the structural features (masonry, walls, parking areas, etc.) are in fair condition while other features, such as roofs, exterior decks and stairs on the 15144 building are in poor to very poor condition Additional items needing attention include boarded up windows/patio doors, broken doors/locks, heaters, backed up sewers, missing smoke and carbon monoxide detectors, security cameras, thermostats and other items. “

Broken heaters? Backed up sewers? Missing smoke and carbon monoxide detectors?

Those seem like slum conditions to me.

I’m also curious to know why a lender would make such a substantial loan on a property in poor condition. I doubt that a property could have gone so far south in only four years.

Doesn’t anyone do their homework before handing out over a million dollars?

Then of course I apparently I didn’t do mine before I signed on the dotted line so there you go.

“Preliminary estimates for building repairs amount to $175,000 - $210,000 with a majority of the costs for the roofs and stairs/decks.”

Well that’s what the report says according to the court papers. Don’t act like I just went out and made this stuff up.

But wait there’s more---at the time of the report the first installment of the 2006 property taxes had not been paid.

“The current amount due for all of the 2006 real estate taxes including penalties associated with the 1st installment is $49,567.96.”

So let’s sum it up----half the units are unoccupied, the property was (is?) in severe disrepair and the property taxes for 2006 were overdue.

Do not make me share the samplings of the tenant maintenance surveys.

I can sum it up in one word---chilling.

It's Almost Done

Mt. Carmel is getting close to completing their turf installation. I have to say that it looks really good---very high end.

Pretty

A few pictures of a lovely Dorchester garden to start your weekend off right.

Happy Friday!

Here I Go Again

I went out last night to some of my regular haunts.

Hell, I just secured regular employment so I think I’m due for a little celebrating.

Like most Chicagoans out on Friday night, I made a late night food run to McDonalds.

I hailed a cab---cab 6215---heading south on Clark Street with the intent of going home.

Unfortunately for me, my driver must have missed that part in taxi 101 where he takes me to where I want to go.

Now I’d tell you his name but he wouldn’t reveal his name and he was a little less forthcoming about taking his hand from over his taxi license.

Nonetheless---the drama jumped off when I gave him my address and wanted to go home.

Immediately he told me that he had no gas.

I replied, “No worries, go ahead and find some gas.”

He pulled into the BP station at Wabash & Roosevelt.

At least he was heading south which was a step in the right direction.

That’s when he dropped the bomb.

“You’re gonna have to pre pay your fare.”

I started to get that old familiar feeling.

Why do I keep on running into cabbies that won’t take me home?

Naturally, 911 was contacted.

And like the last time, the police took the side of the cabbie.

At least this time they seemed sympathetic but the result was still the same.

The cab driver told them that I because I was on the phone talking to someone about the situation, that he “Didn’t feel comfortable driving me.”

Implying that I was setting him up for some type of misfortune.

I explained to Officers Evans and Lee (Beat 133) that I simply wanted to go home and when I gave him the address of where I was going, all of the problems started.

First the no gas story, then the demand for prepayment---he clearly didn’t want to take me to my destination which is a violation of the municipal code.

If my memory is correct, the officers said that they couldn’t make him take me anywhere and that this was a civil matter.

Unbelievable.

They suggested that I get out and take another cab.

I got out and walked away but not before getting the bright idea to turn back and use the camera option on my cell phone. I have a picture of the placard that faces
the customer in the back seat but not much else.



It seems the driver was a little camera shy.

So here I go again.

I’ll file another complaint and wait till it grinds its way through the Department of Consumer Services.

All I wanted to do was go home.

A simple request, really. Why do some people have to make it so hard?

When It Rains, It Pours

...I finaly got a job.

That sound you hear is my credit card companies popping champagne corks.

Details to follow.

Praise Jesus.

And I Thought I Was Pissed…

Every time I turn around I continue to get love from the blogosphere.

This time it comes from a similarly themed blog named bewarethebuilder.blogspot.com.

Oooh whee----Mr. Thomas Doyle is one angry condo purchaser. He’s one pissed off brother.

And he’s my new idol.

Not only is he fighting the good fight against his developer, but his developer Bryton Development LLC and it’s principal Kevin Bryar is suing him for defamation.

Defamation----that gets me kinda hot.

Now I’ve been through Mr. Doyle’s blog and I see a great many similarities in our experiences and I feel for him

Beating your head against the wall when it comes to this condo thing ain’t no joke.

Questionable construction quality and apathetic neighbors will drive you to drink.

You went ahead and took the plunge and took part in the American Dream and threw down a chunk of money to purchase your own home.

I was shitty when I didn’t get my full condo value for my paltry $125,000.

So I get that Mr. Doyle, also know as Truth In Advertising, is beyond incensed where his $390,000 is concerned.

Personally speaking, I’d launch a full scale war if that type of cheddar was involved.

So I say to Mr. Doyle and those of you who may follow in our steps, call it like you see it----but with caution.

Documentation, documentation, documentation.

Let me make myself abundantly clear----make sure you can document your claims.

Oh yeah, no matter how tempted you are to call the people you write about names and offer your opinion, resist.

Well, mostly. Sometimes you have to slip in a "shifty" here and a "scumbag" there to make your point.

Yeah, I name my developer and write about Mt. Carmel but majority of my posts are based in fact and can be verified by court documents or pictures.

My posts about random neighbors and the Jenkins Boys notwithstanding.

Note: Woody + Cell phone camera = trouble. I’m a picture snappin’ broad. Don’t do anything dirty, I will put your shit on blast.

Anyhoo…

For those of you who have been reading from the beginning you’ll remember that at first I didn’t name names---it took quite a while before Mr. Knight’s name was mentioned. I didn’t even refer to Mt. Carmel by name until earlier this year.

My intent in starting my blog was two fold---As a form of therapy and to inform others of some of the pitfalls on condo home ownership.

Everything else just kinda fell into place.

But as you all know egregious acts call for egregious actions. Hence names were named.

But through it all I adhered to my number one rule---be able to prove it through documentation.

Ladies and gentlemen, avail yourself of secrets hiding in plain sight. The freedom of information act was made to uncover potential deception.

Or at the very least be able to prove a pattern of behaviors that will lend credibility to any future acqusations you may make.

Ladies and gentlemen those government links on the left side aren’t there because I needed space filler.

Hell, I think that the kids at the Clerk of the Circuit Court’s office almost know me by name.

I find most if not all of my documentation right there.

You’d be surprised what you can find in legal proceedings in the Cook county court system.

Actually, you’d be surprised at what you can find when you start leafing through bankruptcy filings at the federal building.

But I’m sure you get the point.

It’s all right in front of you. Dig through, make copies and factually post your findings. Throw in your voice and you have a blog.

Now I’m not sure how this brouhaha is gonna turn out for Mr. Doyle.

But I would think that if he can properly document past behaviors and the current situation, he may stand a chance of defeating this lawsuit.

What do I know, I’m not a lawyer (even though I know an ass load of them).

This has all of the makings of a possible 1st amendment test case.

Time will tell if I’m right.

But I’ll tell you this; I’m running down to the clerk’s office tomorrow to get the 411. I’ll be the one at the copy machine.

Progress In Pictures, Part 2

More from the Mt. Carmel turf installation project.

Ms. Viola

It’s rare that I meet a person and automatically feel their goodness.

Perhaps you could argue that people will rise or fall to your expectations; if you look for the worst in people, that’s what you’ll find.

Or you could argue that the world is full of assholes.

Whichever philosophy you espouse one thing is clear----good people tend to stick out in our modern society.

Such is the case of Ms. Viola.

Ms. Viola is the coordinator of the Angel Food Ministries program at St. Thomas Episcopal Church.

You know, the Black Episcopalians who are feeding me.

When I discovered Angel Food and went to make my first purchase, Ms. Viola welcomed me like a long lost relative.

Not only was she warm, but when I didn’t have enough money to get one of the additional boxes she arranged to get one for me.

I didn’t know this woman from Adam and she was asking me what I needed.

Naturally I couldn’t impose on this nice lady.

I told her that it was okay, that I’d get an additional box next month. She replied that “Donations happen all the time. Just tell me what you want.”

It’s been a long time since a stranger has been nice to me.

I’m a “wait for the other shoe to drop” type of broad.

The defenses are usually up. The wall is set.

I know it’s not fashionable to say that you look for the ugly side of people’s personalities but I’ve always been truthful with you gentle readers and more importantly myself.

Nonetheless, I started to tear up at such sheer kindness.

I just adore that woman.

And because I adore this woman (and am in desperate need additional parental figures), I have a favor to ask.

St. Thomas Episcopal Church has been serving the needs of its worshipers and the Bronzeville neighborhood for over 120 years.

Their original church burned down in 1962 but they managed to carry on their ministry at the parish house until the new church was built near the intersection of 38th and Wabash.

The parish house is a beautiful but neglected jewel in a re-emerging neighborhood.

In fact, it’s next to the Margaret Burroughs house----you know the founder of the Dusable Museum of African American history.

The remaining old homes in the neighborhood are quite breathtaking and in various states of repair.

Such is the case of the St. Thomas parish house.

From what I’ve been told, this beautiful old girl was victim of some unscrupulous contractors and handymen.

In fact, part of the beautiful banister was allegedly stolen by a bootleg contractor around 17 years ago.

He took the banister from the first floor to part of the second floor and replaced it with horrible wrought iron fencing.

Yes, you read correctly----wrought iron fencing in a 100 plus year old house.

Don’t get me started on the dropped ceilings (Ick!) and other monstrosities done by “reputable” contractors.

In short the good folks of St. Thomas and Ms. Viola need to find the funds to restore the parish house to its former glory.

And before you all start asking why can’t they pay for their own repairs, I have a simple answer----‘cause they don’t have the money.

As someone who lives in an older building, I personally know how tough it is to find the money to handle repairs much less make improvements.

Keeping the lights and water on is usually a task within itself much less trying to do accurate (and expensive) historical restoration.

I know one of you has to know something about securing grants for restoration.

I know someone out there can help.

Just tell me how.

News Flash!

Apparently Black people moving into your neighborhood isn't as harmful as once believed.

A Bargain and a Blessing

I’m being fed by Black Episcopalians.

Thank you Jesus.

Rather I should say Angel Food Ministries is feeding me by way of the Black Episcopalians.

The Ministry started in 1994 as a sort of a food pantry in Monroe, Georgia in response to plant closings in the area.

According to Angel Food’s website “Over the next few years, other churches wanted to get involved and Angel Food began feeding hundreds of families across the southeast. Now, Angel Food feeds over 500,000 families a month in 35 states.”

And boy am I ever grateful.

Say what you will about faith based initiatives but this one is allowing me to eat without spending insane amounts of money.

I’m sure you good folks have seen the effect of fuel prices on the cost of food.

You just wait until the effects of the recent Midwestern floods.

When you all can’t afford to feed yourselves or your families and beat a path to Angle Food’s door you can send me a note of thanks.

The concept is simple and quite straight forward---you pay $30.00 for a basic box of food (heavy on the meat) that is intended to feed a family of four for about a week or a single person for about a month.

Once you purchase the basic box, you can purchase one or more of four specialty boxes that range from a 7 lb. assorted meat grilled box to a fresh fruit and veggie box. In fact, check out what you can get for the month of July:

JULY SPECIAL #1
7 lb. Assorted Meat Grill Box - $20.00
(1.5 lb. New York Strip Steaks (2 x 12 oz.)
2.5 lb. Boneless Netted Boston Butt Roast
2 lb. Meaty Beef Ribs
1 lb. Mild Italian Sausage)

JULY SPECIAL #2
4.5 lb. Steak and Chicken Combo Box - $20.00
(1.5 lb. Kansas City Strips (2 x 12 oz.)
1.5 lb. Bone-In Ribeyes (2 x 12 oz.)
1.5 lb. Bacon-Wrapped Chicken Filet (4 x 6 oz.))

JULY SPECIAL #3
10 lb. Breaded Chicken Breast Tenders - $18.00

JULY SPECIAL #4
Fresh Fruit and Veggie Box - $16.00
6 ears Corn
2 lb. Carrots
2 lb. Yellow Onions
1 Cello-Wrapped Lettuce
1 Pineapple
4 California Oranges
1 Seedless Watermelon
6 Russet Potatoes

Not bad, eh?

And the best part is that there are no income verifications or forms to fill out. They don’t want your personal background---well at least the Black Episcopalians didn’t give me the third degree---all they want to know is what you want and how much.

Like I said, simple.

Now that’s not to say that there isn’t what could be described as tracts or at the very least inspirational messages placed in every food order. While I don’t have a problem with it, those of you who do it’s a small price to pay to be able to eat.

Plus the way the world is going today, perhaps we need to revisit our relationship with a higher power.

I’m just sayin’.

So to paraphrase the Blues Brothers I’m going up north to put the word in the street.

I’m giving you the hook up the same way I gave it to my friend and former co-worker who got laid off with me after getting it from my sister.

Now that I look back on how she and I got on the subject of Angel Food it’s quite comical.

My Sister: Yeah, I need to marinate my T-bones before I put them on the grill.

Me: (Sputtering) T-bones? Heffa, even though my income has been
severely cut, I know I still make more money than you. I can’t
afford a can of Spam but your trifflin’ ass is eating T-bones?
What gives? Did you get a better job?

My Sister: Oh, did I not tell you about the hookup?

Me: Hell no---spill it.

My Sister: Let me hip you to the deal---Angel Food Ministries.

And from that conversation I went to the website and found the Black Episcopalians.

Who, might I add, are a hoot.

More on them later.

Go feed yourselves.

The Big Bad World Doesn't Owe You A Thing

A reality check and attitude adjustment courtesy of the Eagles.

Inferno

The inside of my oven was on fire.

I was literally watching my life go up in smoke.

Nearly paralyzed by fear, at least I had the presence of mind to turn off the gas.

Who knew that dripping margarine could cause so much damage in so little time?

In a quest to “get my life back on track” I’ve taken to preparing my meals at home; when you work in a restaurant you tend to get lazy about cooking.

I decided to make my variation of the Weight Watchers frittata recipe I found online about a year ago.

Except I add Milnot got rid of the skim milk and use smoked cheddar instead of part skim cheese.

I guess that doesn’t make it very weight watchery, does it?

While the frittatas turn out quite well, I do have a problem with them sticking to the bottom of the pans.

Despite buying new Caphlon non-stick muffin pans, the problem persisted.

So I thought if I added butter to the egg/milk mixture my sticking problems would be solved.

Except I used some margarine that was already open in the freezer.

Six of one, half dozen of the other---right?

So I melted the margarine and added it to the mixture.

I put together the frittatas, poured in the egg mixture and popped the whole kit and caboodle in the oven.

A few minutes later, I noticed that my oven was smoking. The margarine had bubbled over and had started dripping on the oven floor.

No worries----that happens all the time. Smoke adds flavor, right?

So I opened a few windows, disabled the smoke detector and took the frittatas out of the oven when they appeared to be done.

It was difficult to tell through all of the smoke rolling out of the oven.

I thought that if the source of the smoking were gone, the smoke itself would eventually disappear.

Wrong.

Then the white smoke that had been billowing out of the oven vents suddenly turned black.

There was a full fledged fire in my oven.

I froze.

My oven is powered by natural gas so fire reaching that gas line would have meant big trouble for everyone in my building.

I ran and turned off the gas and dialed the fire department.

I had a fire extinguisher but didn’t know how to use it.

I did on the other hand need to let my neighbors know that they might need to get out of the building.

I banged on my neighbor’s door across the hall and told them what was going on.

The panicked look on my face probably relayed the seriousness of the situation.

Thank God someone took action.

One of my neighbors ran back to their kitchen, grabbed the fire extinguisher, ran back to my kitchen and put the fire out in my oven.

All the while her husband stood there with a dazed look on his face.

Not to be anti-man or anything but I know who I’m gonna ask to hang cabinets when the time comes.

Way to “man up.”

Not soon afterwards, the fire department showed up.

While certain scenes in Backdraft play over and over in my head, I was hoping to meet hot firemen in a less taxing manner.

I.e., not professionally.

After they checked out the oven and made sure the fire was out, one of the firemen asked me why I didn’t put it out with baking soda.

I couldn’t give him an answer.

The firemen went away but the knot in my stomach didn’t.

The thought of another major thing happening in my life was enough to make me take to the couch until my queasiness passed.

I’m working very hard to keep things together but am barely managing to keep my head above water.

When I was telling this story to a group of people, someone mentioned that fire symbolized anger.

And it’s no secret that I’m pissed about this unemployment situation.

Here’s to hoping that all of the fires, physical and spiritual, have been extinguished.

A Perfect Ten

10 long months.

That’s how long I haven’t had corporate employment.

That’s how long I’ve been paying for my own health, life and dental insurance.

That’s how long I have been searching for a job.

And let me define job as being one that pays as much or more than I was making at my other gig. A job that doesn’t involve serving or servicing anyone, has built in sick days and vacation time.

It would be nice not to say, “Would you like that house salad to come out first?”

It’s beyond frustrating.

I’m tired of worrying about working multiple jobs, sweating making the mortgage every month.

Make no mistake the mortgage comes first; much to the detriment of everything else and my credit rating.

Almost 40 years old and having to rebuild my credit rating---great.

Shouldn’t I be alfresco dining in Paris right now? Not worrying about coordinating my three jobs so I have enough money to keep my utilities on.

Paying the utilities these days is a series of Faustian deals with Com Ed, Peoples & AT&T.

I’m tired of having my friends help either via employment or funds.

My two of my three part time jobs are with close friends. The other is in the office suite of a close friend.

It’s not that I don’t appreciate everything that everyone has done for me, but I’m of the mind set that no matter how much someone likes you, there comes a time you have to stand on your own two feet.

It seems like my attempts at standing have been met with a massive ass kicking.

Plus no one needs to know every last thing about your life---no matter how much you like them.

It blurs the lines of friendship and we all know how tricky that can be to negotiate.

The fact of the matter is that apparently my best job hunt efforts aren’t good enough.

I’m trying to figure out how to correct and redirect my efforts so I don’t have to choose between groceries and paying my condo assessments.

Not that those are up to date but a girl can dream can’t she?

And then to drive the unemployment point home, one of my part time jobs (yes I had four) shut down about two weeks ago.

My main part time gig at Pottery Barn on Michigan Avenue is no more.

Jesus take the wheel, I’m the great job killer.

I know I’ve done a few of these posts over the past ten months but it just seems like everything is going into a downward spiral despite my best efforts.

I seriously want my life back.

Like right now.

It really takes fortitude to get out bed these days.

But knowing that the alternative is homelessness has served as motivation enough but now even that isn’t the kick that it used to be.

Frankly the cat meowing for his breakfast is what gets me to move my ass in the morning.

And yes, I’m not feeling too confident these days but I tell myself that I have to refocus and redouble my efforts. I also try to let go of the things I can’t control and deal with the things I can control.

So to pull me out of my funk, I’ve committed myself to making my little nest as tidy as possible.

While my place is still not completely spit and polished, things were progressing nicely.

Until the grease fire that happened on Saturday.

Sourbelly Trio

As of yesterday I've been unemployed for 10 months.

Needless to say I'm in a shitty mood but those particulars are for another post.

This little piece of my childhood is helping to lift my spirits today. I don't know what's scarier---the fact that the male characters always fall for Bugs Bunny in drag or that I remembered the actual name of the clip (Hillbilly Hare).

I do love my Looney Tunes.

Frank---The Back Story

Yes, that is a picture of a squirrel with a chicken wing in his mouth.

And no it wasn’t photo shopped.

But I’m getting ahead of myself----let me introduce you all to Frank.

Frank is mainly seen in the Washington Park neighborhood but no one knows exactly where he (or she?) resides.

My friend who lives across the street from Washington Park encountered Frank about four years ago when he started digging up the container garden that I worked so hard to plant.

At the time I didn’t know that those cute furry woodland creatures commonly known as squirrels were garden destroying rats with a fluffy tail and good PR.

Both my friend and I were extremely pissed.

Frank tore out my hard work to bury one of his many prizes----a corn cob, half a snickers bar or perhaps some other delicacy he found amidst the urban landscape.

Motherfucker.

So over the years during the warmer months, a battle would ensue between us and him.

At first my friend would leave his three dogs on the back porch where the flower boxes were located.

Frank merely kept out of their reach while he proceeded to rip apart another flower box.

Then at the start of last planting season we heard that blood meal would keep squirrels away from your flower boxes. So naturally we grabbed a few bags.

It seemed to work, yet Frank still came around to tease the dogs.

It seemed that Frank had upped the ante. It wasn’t about the flowerboxes anymore.

If my friend didn’t keep up with his blood meal application Frank would merely come back and we’d find plants on the floor of the back porch the next day.

That flipping squirrel was (and is) a sadist.

So it was no surprise when I got an excited phone call one day about his outrageous behavior.

“Woody, you won’t believe what I just saw!”

“Good God, what happened now?”

“The dogs were going crazy on the back porch barking at Frank.”

“Alert the media.”

“He was carrying a hot chicken wing in his mouth.”

“Shut up you liar. I should hang up this phone right now. Since when do squirrels start eating chicken wings?”

“I don’t know but he has a chicken wing in his mouth right now----I have a picture to prove it.”

“Bullshit.”

“No really, I have a picture.”

“So let’s see it, homeboy. Send it to me.”

And so he did.

At this point, all I can do is shake my head.

Progress In Pictures

Pictures from my cell phone of Mt. Carmel's turf replacement project. Note the brand new sidewalk in the corner of picture #1 and in picture #2.

Hotness.

And yes, I finally figured out how to download my Blackberry so don't be surprised by the flood of pictures on the blog.

True Progress

It's true. We now have a sidewalk.

On the north side of my street between Stony Island and Dorchester is a new continuous two block stretch of sidewalk.

Part one was done by the city last fall and part two was just completed yesterday as a part of Mt. Carmel's turf replacement project.

After years of looking at an unkempt and crumbling parkway and sidewalk, the school across the street has finally come through.

It looks absolutely wonderful.

Pictures are forthcoming.

Additions

I just added new links to the South Side/Woodlawn section of the blog.

Three of the new links; Darius Williams, The Sixth Ward and Really Boring have been kind enough in the past to mention yours truly in their blogs. But don't think that praise, recognition and vanity swayed my decision making process.

Once these site got on my radar I actually sat and read them. These cats have a great deal to say and I'm proud that fellow south siders continue to represent in the blogosphere.

Plus I just dig Hyde Park Urbanist.

For those of you who read my humble offerings on the regular, may be the surprised that the fourth link is to Mt. Carmel High School.

For quite awhile they were simply known as "The School Across The Street."

But then the straw broke the camel's back and I cleared up any misconceptions about who really resided across the street.

I've had issues with Mt. Carmel's true commitment to our neighborhood in the past and very well may have some issues in the future.

For now it seems that they're doing right by the 'hood by stepping up and installing a new sidewalk from Blackstone to Dorchester and seeding the parkway.

So in the interest of moving on, Mt. Carmel has finally made the cut.

Being in Woodlawn for over 100 years, surviving the lean times and continuing to thrive has to count for something.

Dorchester Is Killin' It

Seriously, what's with the emergence of the hardcore gardeners on Dorchester between 63rd and 65th?

I know it's only two blocks but the explosion of color, the variance of plants, the mix of perennials and annuals create such as beautiful tapestry it's litteraly jaw dropping.

The now mature parkway garden in the 6400 block of Dorchester looks amazing with the addition of new perennials. Hopefully I'll be able to download my Blackberry pictures so you can enjoy the full beauty of this garden.

A few doors to the north, the newly built condos have some stunning lawn borders.

A lilly may just be a lilly but when you live in a neighborhood that has many vacant, trash strewn lots; that lilly represents progress.

Hope, even.

But the ones who are absoulutely killin' it on the gardening tip is the Apostolic Church of God.

Yeah, the one that the Obamas are probably attending as I write this post.

Note: Do not go near the corner of 63rd and Dorchester. The traffic will be nightmarish.

I schlepped past Apostolic yesterday and was stopped in my tracks by the vibrancy of their parking meridians.

Personally, I love the use of common household annuals----petunias, impatients. begonias, geramniums----in uncommon (and large bold) pairings.

Once again, if I ever figure out how to download these friggin pictures from my Blackberry I'll show you the visual feast.

Small steps make a big impact for a stronger neighborhood.

This Is So South Side

Photo courtesy of M. Cannon

It's Not Just Me

A few weeks ago one of my neighbors texted me near the end of my waitressing shift.

Since it was late, I was rather taken aback that I received a message that didn’t involve a dire emergency.

I pulled up the message, it read:
“Carlton was on Ch 7 hiding face coming out of court! Funny!”

I peed on myself a little ‘cause I got excited.

Hiding? Coming out of court? WTF is going on?

Despite my aching feet and crabby disposition, I rushed home in enough time to catch the rebroadcast of the Channel 7 news.

And just as I locked the door and turned on the TV what story should appear but the big splashy corruption investigation probe named Operation Crooked Code.

This time I about popped a boner.

As I watched the news report, a few of the indicted individuals were named but a complete list wasn’t made available.

That was a head scratcher.

I didn’t want to shout the joyous news from the rooftops until I saw my developer’s name in a federal indictment.

In short I needed to make sure that the T’s were crossed and the I’s were dotted.
The more I looked, I just couldn’t find any evidence that Carlton had been rounded up in the sting.

No peeing. No boner.

I’m glad I listened to my inner voice.

It turned out that the person who was covering his face coming out of the Dirksen Federal building was not Mr. Knight.

When I broke the news to my neighbor she was deeply disappointed.

And when I say deeply disappointed I mean buzz kill disappointed.

As much as I’ve chronicled Mr. Knight’s dealings with our association, I’m simply the smoke---the rest of my neighbors are the fire.

There's more than one owner who would like to see him get his comeuppance.

I’m just the one who happens to write about it.

While he wasn’t indicted, the city did file two new civil lawsuits against him. I also have to find out what’s going on with the Dixie Highway foolishness in Harvey.

Unfortunately my 12 part time jobs mean I don’t have the same amount of time to go sleuthing like I used to but I’ll eek out some time next week to go to the Clerk of the Circuit Court’s office.

Because as you should know by now, the saga is never ending.

Developing...

In Case You Were Wondering

A few updates:

The cat's ass dandruff is clearing up nicely. Apparently I can't feed him cheap cat food, he has to get the good stuff. God, he's such a high maintenance divo.

The basil is flourishing since I took it inside. Now I think the birds are attacking the impatients in my flower boxes.

Yowsa.

I know I've been promising to learn how to download pictures from my Blackberry Curve but it still hasen't happened. But now that Mt. Carmel is stepping up to the plate, I have to record this photographically for all to see.

Sidewalks, cats and basil oh my!

Validation

It's nice to know I'm not the only one who picked up on this trend.

Caveat Emptor.

West Side Opinion

Aparently someone else in Woodlawn has an opinon about one of their institutional neighbors.

For all of the issues we've had with Mt. Carmel, at least their presence discourages violent activity.

That's a good thing.

Wait A Minute

As I was schlepping down the street this morning, I noticed that the crappy sidewalk running from Blackstone to Dorchester had been broken up as a part of Mt. Carmel's turf installation.

What the hell?

It would stand to reason that if the crappy, uneven sidewalk is no more that it will soon be replaced with a brand spanking new smooth and even sidewalk.

Right? It does stand to reason----correct?

Is it possible that our little hood will have a passable sidewalk for walkers, runners, seniors, dog walkers, stroller pushers and our neighbors in wheelchairs on the north side of the street?

That is so money.

Now the older wheelchair bound man who shamelessly flirts with all of the women in neighborhood will be able to give a more spirited continuous chase for two blocks.

Damn.

I'll keep an eye on the progress and post what happens.

Now if Mt. Carmel could only spring for some Turf Builder our shit might just be the hotness.

The Block Is Hot

The fallout from the subprime crisis has been all over the news since last summer.

Faithful readers will remember how I wrote about my own personal drama in this forum with my own adjustable rate mortgage.

It would have been easier for me to get into a size ten pair of skinny jeans than to refi nance my mortgage last year.

I know that things are still bad.

I predict that the market won’t straighten out until late ’09 or early 2010.

Despite those grim predictions, I get a feeling that things are looking up for the old hoody hoo.

Realtor’s trying to get rid of excess inventory in this market shouldn’t come as a surprise.

But it seems like there’s a breath of fresh air in recent listings. And when I say breath of fresh air I mean new condo construction.

Not only are there newly built inventory on 65th place, Dorchester and Kimbark but methinks there may be a real estate turn around lurking amidst this downturn.

Obviously it’s not over until the units sells but as a nearly seven year resident of Woodlawn, the price points of the current condo inventory thrill me to pieces.

The new condos behind me are listing from the high 200’s.

For someone who bought her humble little cold water flat for considerably less, when the market does turn around ,those of us who saw Woodlawn’s potential and bought in early will reap the benefits.

And when I say reap I mean raking in the scads of cash when I finally choose to sell.

While I’m not a fan of our city’s Olympic efforts and I don’t think we’ll get the games---if we did, the real estate market for the south east side is going to blow off the map.

But for now it’s all just speculation.

I feel it coming though---change is afoot.

Nature My Ass

Who knew that the local wildlife loved fresh Basil so much?

Those motherfucking birds have practically picked clean my container of Basil I had out on the back deck.

And before I caught a clue, they started working on my Rosemary.

I took the two flower boxes that contained the Basil, Rosemary and Chives inside yesterday to sit on my windowsill.

So I have to worry about urban ills AND scavenger birds?

That's just bullshit.

Well Damn

The grass across the street on the new parkway is growing in nicely.

Nonetheless weeds are everywhere amongst the new blades. And when I say weeds, I mean that there are just as many (or more) weeds than grass.

Don't get me started on the seeds that the trees are dropping.

Mt. Carmel's landscape crew cuts the parkway every week so it doesn't look like we live in a third world country.

With the presence of the weeds it doesn't exactly look like we live in a leafy suburb either.

But I find it somewhat ironic that Mt. Carmel is replacing the sod on their football practice field with permanent turf and those of us who live on the "other" side of the fence can't even get a bag of Scot's turf builder put down to prevent the weeds.

The parkways in front of the school on 64th Street are absolutely beautiful. They look like a lush living green carpet. Not a weed in sight.

'Cause being a good neighbor means that you're proactive.

Not treating your neighbors like they're an afterthought.

Act Fast

The 7:15, 8:00 and 11:30 show times for the Sex and the City movie at the Loews 600 North theatres have already sold out.

Can you believe it? The flipping movie is still 7 days away.

If you have any interest is seeing this film on opening day, I strongly suggest that you go to Fandango and hop on the bandwagon.

I'm already planning my outfit.

Right vs. Wrong

Apparently the presence of racism in America is news to some people.

The Opinion Page and this news story in yesterday’s Chicago Tribune seem to underscore this theory.

No shit Sherlock.

It seems that America’s dirty little secret is showing with the continued emergence of Senator Obama’s Presidential campaign.

Meghan Daum’s brilliantly insightful opinion piece cast the privilege of whiteness in a new light.

Apparently being White isn’t what it used to be. And the “wrong” type of White people aren’t too happy about this fact.

Yet among this renewed dialogue on race in our country a few things struck me as I watch this political and social drama unfold.

We all know Chicago isn’t exactly the Mecca of racial tolerance---there’s a reason it’s called the Mississippi of the north.

Frankly, the de facto segregation in this city is difficult to miss.

Nowhere is this segregation in plain view than where people choose to make their home.

And while I’m not trying to piss in the wind about this fact, I find it amusing that it’s the subtle behaviors, utterances and actions that let me know that this country has a long way to go before we reach a true racial understanding.

A prime example is when you live on the south side and choose to have a party; it’s interesting how some people will never ever accept your invitation.

And when I say some people I mean White people.

One of my neighbors and I were discussing this phenomenon while on our way to the Woodlawn Farmer’s Market last Saturday.

Its one thing to think that the whole of the south side is a cesspool but it’s quite another to think that someone you share a friendship or a workspace with thinks that you live in a cesspool.

So in the past, when some people would come to my home and remark about “livability” of my little part of Woodlawn I would reply to them “Where did you think I would live?”

“Livability” equals nice. Or at the very least not as ghetto as one would think.

My neighbor and I both decided that if you don’t want our free food and liquor, screw you.

Not that I’m in a financial position to have a party.

But make no mistake, when I get a job and knock down my credit card debt, I’m gonna have a blowout.

I also noticed an editorial cartoon in the April 3rd-9th edition of The Onion.

In the page 11 cartoon you see two panels----one that’s captioned “America When We Don’t Talk About Race” that shows a rural looking White family (I can’t only assume that from the overalls on the father), a beer mug holding Irishman, a Black man with the word “funky” spinning a basketball on his finger, a guitar playing Hispanic man and a Asian woman standing outside of a laundry.

I don’t have to point out the basic offensiveness of that panel do I?

Truthfully I don’t have a problem with that---I can’t go tilting at every windmill.

But the chafe comes in the next panel titled “America When We Do (Talk About Race)”

Chaos has erupted.

The rural father is in a Klan hood, the Hispanic man and Asian woman are fighting and the Irishman has a broken bottle in his hand.

Yet the image that strikes me as offensive is the one where the Black man has the rural mother by the throat---knife in hand ready for the attack.

Jesus take the wheel.

I’ve been doing this Black thing for a few years and like I’ve previously stated in order to preserve my sanity I can’t go tilting at every windmill.

The trick to being Black in America is brush the slights and insults off your shoulders. If you internalize too much you’ll be on a subway train shooting White people and blaming it on “Black rage.”

You also need a way to release the bullshit that’s heaped upon you seemingly everyday so you don’t blow.

I’m lucky---I have a blog that’s mine and mine alone so I can call it like I see it.

But my point, kind reader is that I always knew that White people took a dim view of us.

And when I say dim view I mean that in a “we’ll tolerate your existence until you step out of your place” type of way.

But at least I know where I stand with the “wrong” type of White people.

I won’t hear how they support diversity yet can’t seem to take a social trip south of Madison Street.

I won’t hear about how they don’t see color or think that racist attitudes are disgusting yet would illustrate a cartoon showing what seems to be the worst of White America’s fears.

Shockingly, to the “right” people race still matters.

Pet Mother

I am clearly a poor excuse for a pet mother.

My cat has ass dandruff.

Those nasty flakes stand out against his smoky gray fur and are causing me considerable angst.

When I googled Mr. Puss’ symptoms it seems that either he’s allergic to something, he’s too fat to reach around and clean himself or I kept my home too warm during the colder months.

So I either didn’t pay proper attention to Mr. Puss, I over fed him or I fried him.

God, I suck.

When money was even tighter a few months ago, I actually bought him crappy, mass produced, low end cat food. Seemingly the flakes appeared overnight.

As I write this post and look at his dandruff, I’m sure the act of giving him a bath isn’t too far off.

Oh joy. Oh rapture.

It’s not enough that I’m practically jingling a cup full of change on the street corner in order to keep a roof over my head, now I’ve got to solve the ass dandruff issue.

Jesus take the wheel.

Don't Forget

Woodlawn's first ever Farmer's Market happens on Saturday the 17th starting at 9:00 AM til 2:00 PM at the Experimental Station located at 61st & Blackstone.

Break out your grocery carts and cloth bags, real food (not Flaming Hot Cheetos) have come back to the 'hood.

You'll recognize me by the loads of fresh flowers I'll be carrying.

Fresh flowers---who knew?

Woodlawn stand up!

Skokie's Come Calling

Yes, the real estate market is in the shitter.

This should come as no surprise to those of you who may have tried to refi or purchase a home in the past 12 months.

Apparently someone forgot to tell the new owners of one of the vintage apartment buildings down the street from me.

I should have known something was up when parking became a little bit easier.

One day the building was full, the next---no one was there.

And then the hammering started.

After a basic search online of county records and the ever reliable Everyblock, I’m relieved to see that the current owners have received the proper permits for the renovations that they’re performing.

There was no way that all of that hammering wasn’t going to attract attention.

Well at least attention from me.

But now the question begs who are the current owners and is the place going to be condoed out?

At first glance, it seems that Astor Properties out of Skokie put the building in a land trust but as we all know, that could be a front for yet another limited liability corporation. I won’t be able to tell you until I take a trip downtown to request copies of the deed and building permits.

But if everything is on the up and up, why haven’t they posted the building permit in a conspicuous place?

Time will tell if this outfit is legit and plans to turn out quality condos or at the very least a quality building.

I’m cautiously optimistic that this renovation will turn out well and add value to our little ‘hood.

I hope that the design of both the interior and exterior stay within the existing standard.

Believe it or not Woodlawn has design standards.

Aside from the people who want to treat our neighborhood like a rubbish bin, I really do live on a pretty block. Most of the 100 plus year old buildings are in reasonably good shape despite years of neglect.

That’s my nice way of saying that I hope the new owner(s) doesn’t paint the brick facade pink and plant huge sunflowers all over the yard.

Don’t laugh, I’ve actually seen that.

Because between you and me it would be nice to see that building’s lawn become a patch of green happiness.

Maturity

Since I've been waitressing I've noticed that the more high handed and demanding the guest, the crappier the tip.

And in a seemingly unrelated issue, I saw my developer Carlton Knight in the McDonalds around the corner from my home. At one point we locked eyes and that rage that I used to feel whenever I saw him just wasn't there.

Now both incidents would of sent me into a lather cumulating in a post-a-polooza not too long ago but now---not so much.

Actually, I felt more pity than anger.

As I've plainly documented in the past, Mr. Knight is not the poster boy of responsible real estate development.

Seemingly money is his prime motivator, not producing a quality, safe condo unit.

As for our non-tipping friends, you've got to be missing something in your life if you live to treat the wait staff like your personal serfs and don't adequately pay them for the service they provide.

The upside is that I've lost 8 pounds with all of the running around that I do.

In both cases I've realized that I can be pissed all I want, but the behaviors won't change.

I can only change my reaction.

Now that doesn't mean I'll stop reporting on Mr. Knight's various new and existing real estate developments and legal issues or that I won't remember the faces of crappy tippers.

Oh don't think I won't remember them. Let's just say folks that you get what you pay for.

But it does mean that I won't spend an inordinate amount of time on people who don't give a flying fig about me.

This, ladies and gentlemen, might be a sign of maturity.

Who knew?

Guess Who's Coming To Lunch?

Guess which responsibility shirking, dishonorable, deadbeat former neighbor of mine came strolling into my waitressing job on Tuesday with his new wife and baby?

Maurice Cousin.

Hell, I couldn’t believe it so I had to do a double take.

He’s lost some weight so he has the glow of health; so much so that I almost didn’t recognize him.

But you can’t lose the stench of dishonest living---it tends to follow you and permeate your very being.

So he, the new missus and the tot stroll on in for a meal.

The deadbeat and I lock eyes.

After much decision making, the happy family finally settles on the outdoor patio enjoying the spate of wonderful weather we’ve been enjoying lately.

Unfortunately for them that also happened to be the day I was the only server working the entire restaurant for the lunch rush. And while I literally addressed every table in the order that they were seated, I apparently wasn’t moving quick enough.

Because by the time I got to the patio they were getting up.

I apologized for the wait and actually encouraged them to stay. I also told Maurice it was good to see him.

Despite my best---and might I add professional---efforts, they left.

Damn.

I wonder if it was the wait or was it me me?

I wonder if she knows about his past fiscal irresponsibility.

I wonder if he’s ever settled that $31,000 dust up with his lawyers concerning his dissolution of his first marriage?

Unfortunately I had other tables to serve so my questions would have to wait.

Perhaps I'll see him again so I'll be able to ask.

Well I'll Be Damned

The unimaginable is happening.

The suspect grass seed and foam that was put down last fall when the new sidewalk was completed is actually sprouting.

No bullshit.

If you remember correctly, I wasn't overly optimistic that anything was going to grow.

I woke up the other day and noticed that there was a greenish tint to the ground across the street. When I arrived downstairs for a closer look, I saw tender blades of new grass had popped up.

Yes Ladies and Gentlemen that's what it's come down to---I'm literally watching grass grow.

Damn, I may get my "player card" revoked for that.

Grass may not be as exciting as dishing on my developer or talking about condo drama but with spring and renewal unfolding in front of our eyes, our new grass is kind of a rebirth for this little patch of Woodlawn.

Pictures soon to follow as soon as I figure out how to download them from my Blackberry.

Sonic Youth

I'm a little torn on my approaching 40th birthday.

I feel smarter, sexier---bounding with self confidence. And while that hasn't changed, the fact that I'm serving young people that were born slightly before I graduated high school is a bit disconcerting.

It's a little difficult to crack a Blues Brothers joke when the people you're speaking with weren't even born when the movie was released.

Life experience and finally knowing how to put on natural makeup in five minutes vs. the potential and optimism of youth.

Heavy Sigh.

Make no mistake---it's my issue. And I've learned to build a bridge and get over the fact that people born in 1985 can legally drink AND have disposable income.

But the kids I serve at my waitressing job for the most part are okey doke.

And yes, you're a kid if you don't remember the Rolling Stones in their 40's.

But a recent encounter with a 1st year (Freshman) University of Chicago student gave me a giggle.

Her T-Shirt read "If I wanted an A I would of gone to Harvard."

Moxie.

While I can't get into the exact details of my conversation with her and her companions, let's suffice it to say that I let them know that getting older and being a smart woman is not a death sentence.

I hoped that they would grown into womanhood with a little less drama than I did.

Because being 18 and 20 means you have a lot of living to do.

As a matter of fact so does 39.