The Zoo

So I was looking at The Big Picture. It was the one with the zoo pictures.

Some were sad. Some were not. And some were just ridiculously adorable.

All made me want my own zoo pictures. So I went.

Because honestly, when the zoo is free, I don't know why I don't just treat it like a coffee shop and do my reading next to some tiger friends.

Seems calmer than my average cafe experience.

Well. I guess only the captive animals would provide quiet study time.

All the others creatures would be acting all crazy and weird...

Trying to copy all the more well-behaved creatures...

At one point I thought the zoo keepers had realized they needed to contain some of the mysteriously loose animals, since I saw one in a sort of enclosure...

But that may have just been wishful thinking. Because there were way more of them totally free.

But I guess that's what you get when you go to the zoo during late morning on a weekday.

Lots of babies.

And schools trips.

I never really got over my confusion about how the zoo people decided which animals to leave out of captivity.

Because seriously. Notice the crossed arms of my roommate:

And now the crossed arms of our new bear friend:

They could have switched places. No one would have known.

I think actually my roommate and I will soon move into the zoo. Perhaps someone will feed us. And we will live long and happy lives as entertainment for hordes of small children and pregnant mothers. Yes I think that is a fine plan.

We will fit in quite well.

Roar.

Capitalism Cupcakes

So I took this trip. To a craft store. This is really never a good idea. I wander through the aisles visualizing myself spending excessive amounts of time combining all products offered into ridiculously crafty superfluities. I usually end up talking myself down from most of it but only after wasting a good number of precious minutes.

I had a specific purchase in mind. Because I keep making cupcakes. And I knew somewhere out there existed a product to house them.

TA DA!

Pretty nice huh?

This is what I went for. And I almost didn't get it. Due to the fact that should I not own a cupcake storage unit I am still able to make cupcakes. I am just forced to put them on plates. How boring.

But I knew if I bought this, it would make waiting for the bus a happier experience. Because I would be waiting for the bus as the proud owner of a vessel that exists solely for the purpose of holding my cupcakes!

Except for this device had options. Options people. It can hold regular sized-cupcakes. Or you can take out the cupcake holder and it can hold sheet cakes. Or you can turn the holder over and hold a million tiny cupcakes!

Tiny cupcakes, people. With tiny cupcakes there is twice the decorating with the same amount of batter. This is important.

But here's the thing. I didn't have anything with which to make tiny cupcakes. And I really just can't own a tiny cupcake holder without the ability to make tiny cupcakes.

So I also bought myself this ability. Look how pretty:

Much prettier than say.... this thing:

Which is still lovely and useful for making slightly less fun, regular-sized cupcakes. But really. No contest.

And with these fabulous new purchases, you know what I found?

I make even more cupcakes.

It might be detrimental.

But it's so calming. Pouring in the batter so methodically.

Knowing in twenty minutes the properties of heat will have transformed that beautiful liquid...

...Into a delicious solid.

Mixing colors into icing and the welcomed similarities the stuff has with paint.

Spreading and piping the icing-paint. It's my favorite part. I can't do it without smiling. It's a remarkably tranquil task.

The thing about iced cupcakes though? Very difficult to share with people in different states. So I super-glued them into boxes.

I hear results were iffy but delicious.

Habit

I like my bicycle. A lot.

Especially when it is warmish outside. Riding a bicycle in rainy, snowy, barely-livable-because-it-is-so-cold weather? Not so fun. BUT. Having ridden in rainy, snowy, barely-livable circumstances? Makes warmish biking that much better.

Hi bike.

This is where you live.

But there's this one thing that's carried over from those it's-gross-outside months. I keep my bike indoors wherever I can. This includes at the The Cops' house, in my apartment, and Shimer. In my apartment and The Cops' place I have specific permission to do this. The Shimer building, not so much. So when my tires started getting all gunky from the dirty snow/slush, I began carrying my beautiful bicycle through the halls trying to avoid giving someone a reason to deny me this privilege.

Before it got so disgusting, I rolled my bike all over tiled indoor floors. Carried it up some steps to get into buildings maybe, but once inside my good friend just rolled along beside me until we reached our destination. Now that slushy tires aren't so much of a problem, I should stop lugging the thing all over the place.
It has wheels. Carrying is unnecessary.

But I still do. And I can't bring myself to stop. I have no idea why.

So every day I'll hoist the thing up these steps...

Into the IIT Architecture floor (where they keep artsy yet geometrical things lying around for ostensibly decorative purposes)...

Around a few more architecturey corners...

Past the isolated first-floor Shimer admissions office...

Doing the opposite of what the Shimer arrows tell me to do...

Open an unnecessarily heavy door to climb a few flights of these:

Make it to this door (which is usually not so kindly propped open like this):

Round the corner and head to my bicycle's Shimer home: the weird area through the women's bathroom door but before the women's bathroom.

Since my bike doesn't have a hover option, it is inevitable that it would end up making slushy marks somewhere.

But I like to think this adds character to that weird, sparse area. Also it's not like anyone notices a few tiny tire marks right? At least that's what I tell myself.

But the threat of messy tires is over. So I don't know why I keep picking the thing up as if it doesn't roll. My arm doesn't know why either.

But, listen, arm. It's like I tell the Shimer carpet. A little discoloration adds character.

Sandy Escapades

It's getting to be beach time. I live for beach time. At this temperature post-summer, I'm bundling up and shutting windows. But now? Now it's skimpy clothes, and cross-ventilation as I relish the ebbing of those gruesome winter months. And I go to the beach.

But I'm still in school and locked to a great books curriculum. So I took some great books.

At first only a few Chicagoans were on the same page concerning the beach. I had one friend join me early on.

We were the hard-core beach goers who stayed all day. Us and a seagull or two.

Okay there were a lot of seagulls.

But then others caught on.

Some brave souls even decided to swim.

Well. One really eager (and presumably really cold) little girl anyway.

Although a few other adventuring kids ran around sans shirt.

But I guess if I decided to lug heavy pieces of driftwood from one side of the beach to the other for no reason at all... I'd be pretty warm myself.

The kids were pretty much the least of all concerned with the fact that April in Chicago doesn't really mean summer clothes. Or no clothes...

But you know? Sometimes you do have to act like it's summer even when it's not. Because if you don't? And you have a skin disease where your eyelids are devoid of pigment? And you decide to lay on the beach all day long?

Well. Let's just say sometimes being cooped up in winter has its advantages.

Sunshine and Super Powers

Yesterday? Gorgeous. Not a single cloud. All day. And maybe that's what put me in a mood to have fun babysitting.

Or maybe it's because I felt so good after saving a small child's life. Okay so he probably wouldn't have died, but swings hurt. Especially if you're very tiny and the girl on the swing is not. Yes, I stepped up to the plate right as a small unknowing little boy was about to get the wind knocked out of him. His mother looked on helplessly since she was occupied by an even tinier child. She yelled something at the kid in another language, but this kid definitely did not put any stock in his mother's screechy warnings. I immediately stopped pushing The Cops' Kid to run and scoop up the little guy and place him nearer his mother and new sibling.

SuperChristin!

But SuperChristin's job was not done. The little boy started whimpering and clinging to me having seemingly decided I was a much more attentive mother. Mom was still struggling with the baby trying to attach it to her back with a piece of decorative baby-attaching cloth. She stood up repeating 'thank you' clearly not knowing many other English words. Then she handed me the other child, and said, "Help me?" At first, I thought she just wanted me to hold the kid for a minute. Then she bent over in front of me and patted her back. Slowly understanding the odd task put before me, I placed the baby belly-down on the woman's back. She tied herself up, repeated 'thank you' a few more times, and went about following her older and dangerously curious child.

Sadly, they didn't stay long, obviously not realizing a super hero had rescued a third of their group.

But. SuperChristin's job is never really done, you know?

Earlier that day The Cops' Kid learned to ride a bike sans training wheels. She couldn't get started without her dad or I holding onto this funny-looking attached device, but still.

Pretty big accomplishment.

Before SuperChristin The Cops' Kid was just riding on the wide open tennis courts.

Super heroes get kids to ride on sidewalks.

Before SuperChristin The Cops' Kid was reliant on adults beginning the balancing act for her.

Super heroes get kids to start bicycles independently.

Or okay, maybe it was her own initiative and perseverance.

Or maybe it was the powers of The Heart Throb.

I know if I had had The Heart Throb when learning to ride, I would have been doing wheelies and skid-stops in 30 seconds flat.

Yeah, I'm now sure that it wasn't The Cops' Kid at all. The powers of The Heart Throb and SuperChristin combined just couldn't be messed with.

So I don't know why she was so thirsty afterward.

It's not like she taught herself to ride a bike or anything.

SuperChristin!