Bikes to Babies

A few weeks ago I got on a train. Because, honestly. I was so done with Chicago.

You hear that Chicago? DONE. No more of your WIND. No more of your LIGHTS. No more of your CROWDS.

Except for where would I go? My family's in Ohio so... I think I'll go to Missouri.

Wait--What?

I took a train to St. Louis to meet a biking partner and relative stranger. But biking partners are winners always. No need for background knowledge. That's my theory, and I'm sticking to it.

Seriously. Harmless:

So my harmless stranger and I set off with a notion to head in the direction of Bardstown, Kentucky. Which is sort of silly. Because I had nothing in Bardstown, Kentucky. I had never even heard of Bardstown, Kentucky. But The Stranger had a friend there. And, being merely the annoying tag-along, I had no preference for direction. So ride we did.

And despite the parts where I was convinced I was deranged for deciding to do this little tour, biking was fun. Really fun. And pretty.

And fast!

20? Pleeease. I could beat that with my eyes closed.

...Okay not really. Well I mean, I could. But it would be on a nice downhill. And I wouldn't have my eyes closed.

Maybe he would.

He seems to like having his eyes closed. But not me.

Except for here's the thing about this 'him' guy. You see this seemingly relaxed pose?

Oh um. He's actually in extreme pain. And laying like this because he can't really stand. Let alone ride a bicycle for another 150 miles. Because he is an old man with old man back problems. That flare up at the most inopportune times. Well. I suppose there isn't really an opportune time for one's back to go out...

Anyway. The stranger-inclusive leg of the trip was cut a bit short.

Which is unfortunate. Because now? Well now I'm not exactly on a bicycle touring adventure.

Now I'm a nanny in rural Ohio. Which means I'm a housewife with no husband. Also no catty housewife peers.

And those days when I was thinking I was delusional for hopping on a bicycle to nowhere? My mind is frantically archiving every demented moment. Because I'll need to quickly and efficiently access those moments as I'm making yet another bland, kid-friendly meal or wiping my billionth drop of milk from the table. And it is really too bad that I don't have more archives.

Summer? Start over? Please?

So no. I'm no longer treking randomly across the middle of the United States with a few smelly articles of clothing. In fact. Instead of never having the opportunity to do laundry, I am forced to do multiple loads a day for two dirty little boys.

But you know? At least having lots of clothes to clean means occasionally I get to stumble upon something like this:

Which gets its own little mind archive, you know?

IRON MAN!

Similarity

So there's this store in Bridgeport. It's called The Egg Store. I don't really know why. I mean. They do sell eggs. But it's a tiny store. And eggs are a tiny part of the tiny store. It's mainly produce which gives it its lovely ripe odor.

In any case it's very close to The Cops' house. So I go all the time. Often for eggs. A few weeks ago when I went? I saw some poppy seeds. And I'm sure lots of places sell poppy seeds. But if they do they're in obscure sections of big chain groceries in which I often find myself.

Now I don't know a lot of use for poppy seeds really. No matter what I tell myself, I'm not actually a culinary master. BUT. I'm all the time buying those little just-add-water packages of lemon poppy seed muffins. Because lemon poppy seed muffins are exceedingly tasty. But seriously. Who has poppy seeds? I've certainly never had poppy seeds layin around.

I decided to join the ranks of those weird people who have poppy seeds layin around. For the sole purpose of making my own lemon poppy seed muffins.

But then I stuck them in a drawer and proceeded to make all kinds of other baked goods for the next two weeks.

Until Wednesday. Wednesday I had a weird handful of time before class that was just perfect for the use of those lovely seeds. So I opened the drawer and pulled out some seeds.

And made the batter in mere minutes. Because I am such a professional.

Then I loaded up my tiny cupcake pan, popped them in the oven, and began to clean up. Which involves licking batter, obviously. Mmm love those crunchy seeds.

Man. Poppy seeds not from a just-add-water package have a weird aftertaste. Hm. It is actually a very unpleasant aftertaste.

Wait...

So you know how I said I'd never owned a package of poppy seeds before? Yeah I guess I wasn't used to just how tiny those things actually are.

Also not used to cooking with seeds in general. Because apparently there exists more than one variety of small, black seeds. Go figure.

So there I was with tiny lemon mustard seed muffins in the oven and a bowl full of batter left to bake.

Luckily tiny muffins don't take long, so I was able to taste them before class. And they weren't bad, really. They just weren't good really either.

So I had to break out the big guns.

And turn them into tiny lemon mustard cupcakes with cream cheese icing.

Because I may not be a culinary master, but my cream cheese icing rocks. I say my cream cheese icing as if the recipe stays the same every time. Which is not true at all. I have no idea what all is in this stuff. But it sure is good.

Whatever is in that icing definitely saved those tiny muffin/cupcakes.

Made em much prettier too.

Aaand I figured since I had the colors, I may as well try and make actual sheep cupcakes instead of bears on clouds trying their hardest to be sheep like last time.

Little better right? I thought so.

Someday I'll make actual lemon poppy seed muffins from scratch. Until then, I'm studying up on the differences:

Mustard Seeds-BIG
Poppy Seeds- tiny

Ooor I guess I could just turn it over and read the label...

But seriously, who does that?

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.

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.