Monsieur Inkey, 1997-2008

Tonight at 6:30 p.m. PST we lost our beloved friend, Monsieur Inkey. Just moments before his death I held him in my arms and took him outside and showed him the ocean and an orange tree; I heard him purr and saw him smile. I held him in my lap and he crawled down and he lied down and, with no warning, he took his last breaths.

We were so lucky to have Inkey for so long. He was such a special cat---like none other. He will be sorely missed and there will forever be an emptiness that can never be filled. We love you Inkey and we always will.

In Chicago

Yep, the desire for pancakes in Willamette got the best of me and I got myself onto an airplane Saturday and hightailed it for Chicago. I am here in Chicago and I am blissfully happy. On the airplane I did my best not to jump up and down as we approached O'Hare. The fact that there was terrible turbulence made it seem as if it was the weather that caused my jerking actions of joy.

What I have noticed on my first return to Chicagoland:
1) It is much greener than we left in March. Last we were here it was four below zero and a dark gray/brown mass of snow covered everything. Now it is Spring, okay, I know it is really summer but as everything looks so green and it is so cool and beautiful it feels like summer to me.
2) There are a lot more opportunities to see happy families in the suburbs of Chicago than in the hot house hell of Austin. Sure, the families in the Chicago suburbs might not really be happy families----but they certainly look like they are. So far my envy and grief have not been significantly constellated by the herds of children I have seen in the suburbs.
3) The price of real estate has dropped by about $100,000 per house. Everyone tells me it is a great time to buy a house here.
4) Chicago got even more beautiful I was gone. Things that previously seemed like nuisances now are rich with sentiment. The noise of the Metra when I am trying to go to sleep sounds like a lark's song. The wind that blows my skirt over my head in Marilyn Monroe type fashion is fresh and delightful instead of embarrassing and annoying.
5) Summer is not hot here. I used to complain about how miserable the summers are in Chicago. I was wrong. It is not hot in Chicago. Right now I am wearing a sweater and a scarf; in Austin if I were to do such things I would likely collapse in heat exhaustion.

I have been staying with a dear friend in Hinsdale and I am making myself at home in her daughter's bedroom as her daughter is away at school. Her daughter's friends just decorated her already hyper-adolescent princess bedroom with crepe paper, balloons, signs, and bows all to welcome her back home. I sort of feel like I am 16 and on cheerleader squad and that I have just returned from boarding school in Europe---that, my friends proves the power of interior design to transform one's self concept. Also, as I am in the mood for looking for signs that we should come back to Chicago, the fact that there is a welcome home sign on the door is a sign that I cannot ignore.

Later today I am taking the Metra into the city and a dear friend is picking me up at Union Station to take me to her home in Evanston. I am so excited that I am going to see old friends, visit my old work place and maybe even do a little work. I am also hoping to get in with my old colourist in Evanston and that he can work his magic and get my roots to match the rest of my hair. I am also hoping to eat some of the pancakes at Walker Brother's that inspired this trip. Did I mention the day time high in Chicago today????? 72 degrees!!!! I am sure that in Austin it is a low of 115 degrees.

Not sure how long I will be in Chicago. Monsieur Inkey and He-weasel have suggested I fly directly to L.A. instead of flying back to Austin to drive to L.A. with them, and as I have a first-class voucher from a friend who flies the friendly skies, I think that is a brilliant idea.

Going for pancakes

I woke up this a.m. wishing I was in Chicago, as I often do, and that we could go for pancakes at the Original Pancake House in Wilmette. Now, let me tell you, I am not a pancake lover. It is not an exaggeration to say that I loathe pancakes. I detest the mass of flour and water that is fried into steaming hot piles of carbohydrate heavy excuses for food. But, I loved going to The Original Pancake House and sitting in the booth that Timothy Hutton and his friend from the hospital met in. In case you haven't seen Ordinary People that reference would have been wasted on you. If you have seen Ordinary People you have seen the set to my life in Chicago.

I love going to the Original Pancake House/Walker Brother's and splitting the 49'er pancakes ( a crepe like version of pancakes as pictured above) and a ham and cheddar cheese omelette with He-weasel and drinking coffee and getting high from the pancake syrup(what can I say, I am a lightweight and a cheap date). I love being surrounded by the North Shore families and the hoards of students wearing Northwestern Wildcat paraphernalia and the hopes that we will one day have a child to bring for pancakes and to send to college.

I shared my desire with He-weasel and told him I wanted to go to Wilmette for breakfast. He sighed and wordlessly shared in my desire. We have been in Texas since March and I never thought to look to see if there was an Original Pancake House in Austin. Well, there is. And, in a few moments we will be going there. There will be coffee, syrup laden pancakes and an omelette. However, even though they have the same menu I might be disappointed as the experience will be very different. A 49'er pancake will not fill my longing for home.

Travel Journal and the Tale of the Gold Jacket

7:02 A.M.: The day has arrived. I am at this moment at terminal 21 of Austin International Airport and I am leaving Austin---no, not permanently, but for six glorious days. I am so excited. I will soon be in Portland, Oregon where I will be staying with the wise, witty and wonderful blogger B. And, if that wasn't enough fun, I will be meeting for the very first time Function of Time and Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien. I am still holding out hope that other Pacific Northwest Bloggers will bloggers will join us. Did I mention what the expected temps in Portland are today? A day time high of 67!!!!! I am one happy and sweat free weasel.

As I was packing my sweaters, scarves and other sartorial stuff for my Pacific Northwest sojourn, I received the box from J. Crew--- you know, the box I have been waiting for. And, I with much anticipation I put the gold jacket on. Dear, dear, dear....I just don't know how to tell you just how very bad it was. There are layers and layers of bad. Let me share the pain with you.

Layer #1: The gold fabric looks like nagahide. Oh, it is a horrible gold and the fabric is thick and looks like it was intended for upholstery for Studio 54. On the upside, I do think it may be bulletproof. And, as the jacket was shipped from the J Crew in New Jersey that might not be a bad thing.

Layer #2: The fit. Never in the history of my life has a garment done so much to make me look so unattractive. It is big and boxy and it accentuates each and every one of my figure flaws.

Layer #3: It makes me look like a dental hygienist from the year 3000.

Layer #4: The gold does very bad things to my skin. I look a little green in it. He-weasel and I both agreed that it looked much better when I tried it on inside out. The lining was a Moroccan print that was much better than the green inducing gold.

Layer #5: Inkey refused to look at me as long as I had the jacket on. He looked frightened and averted his eyes until I took it off.

Layer #6: He-weasel laughed at me.

Layer #7: The guy at J.Crew laughed at me when I came in to return it.

To the few voices who advised me against the gold jacket, Pissed Off Patricia and Our Juicy Life, let me say that you were right. I am doing my "you were right" dance( wish you could see it). And, to all of you who supported my longing for a gold jacket---fear not, I am ordering another one I found on the J. Crew site. I will not give in until I have my metallic jacket that doesn't frighten the animals.

12:22 p.m.: I am officially out of Texas. I am in San Francisco. Now, that I am out of firing range of the Texans. Let me just tell you that the food at the food court at San Francisco International Airport is better than anything I have eaten in the last five months in Austin. For Californian's it was nothing special, a vegetarian omelet with the most amazing bacon--and San Francisco sour dough/rosemary focaccia. I am so happy to be back in my homeland where queso is not king.

4:45: I am in Portland with B. Tonight's plan: Jack Daniel's, cheese, laughing until our ribs hurt and general joy and happiness. Wish you were here!

Not everyone is photogenic

Trust me when I tell you, these Cole Haan's are much-much-much cuter in person then they are in pictures. In the picture they look a little Naturalizer. Le groan! But, on my foot they look like a whimsical version of the Chanel ballet flat.

I tried on every Cole Haan comfort shoe in the place and these were the only pair that He-weasel, the sales guy and I all loved. They really are super cute in person and very comfortable. And, no I didn't have wine with lunch until after I got the shoes. I am so excited that I have one pair of shoes I can count in Paris. Now, I just need a pair of chic little athletic like shoes and I am set to jet!

Just f.y.i., I got a 1/2 size larger than I usually get. Usually Cole Haan's run large, but not these. $159 at Zappos.com.

I know, I know, I have the Coach Ballet Flats...

But, I woke up in the middle of the night last night and I was visited by the shoe equivalent of the three ghosts of vacations past. These dark and pain inducing shoes led me through a tour of flashbacks of the footwear debacles of travels past. I woke a changed person.

So, I need a sensible pair of walking shoes for my upcoming trip to Paris. But, I am unwilling to totally throw in the towel and pack my New Balance walking shoes in the name of comfort. I just cannot surrender completely like that---I am after all going to be in Paris. So, I did what any girl in such a predicament would do, I went to NeimanMarcus.com.

I found two pairs of Cole Haan Air Bria's for you to choose from. Keep in mind that if I got the second pair I would get them in black and not in that bronzey brown. And/or if you have any other comfortable shoe suggestions that will allow me to walk in Paris for up to 12 miles a day without pain I am all ears---well, I am actually two feet and a brain too. No Birkenstock's will be considered; I don't care how comfortable they are or if they have sequins, leopard or any other animal print.

Oh, and while I was at Neiman Marcus I did a little sale shopping and I found this suit. It is on sale and I am not sure. I like the bracelet sleeve and the simplicity of the suit with just the slightest hint of femininity. Please vote. I am not to be trusted right now. I didn't get a lot of sleep, I am stressed and I tend to make impulsive buys prior to a trip. And, I promise, should I get the suit I will not wear either of these shoes with it; rather, I will wear a suitably uncomfortable pair of shoes.

What I got at J Crew this weekend to console myself that my father is dead and that we had a crap relationship

He-weasel took one look at me Sunday a.m. and decided that we would spend the day doing what I wanted to do. I told him I wanted to go to J Crew and the Mac store. He didn't complain so you know I was looking grief stricken. He-weasel never thinks it is a good idea to go clothes shopping. He asked me where the Mac store was. I tried to explain. Soon it became clear that he thought I wanted to go to the MAC store, or as he calls it ,"the place where you buy paint and brushes." No, not MAC cosmetics, I was wanting some accessories for my Mac Book.

Waiting to go to the mall until Sunday was a colossal mistake. There were all manner of happy families every where I looked. There seemed to be an extraordinarily large number of father and sons out, and lots and lots of pregnant women. I counted 14 of them. As I still seem to be in my rage stage all this pitter patter of pregnant people brought out the bitch out in me. Let me give you and example. As my countenance was slowed by the oppressive 105 heat and a dysthymic disposition He-weasel asked if I would like a Starbuck's. So, there was a mother and child duo who ordered before us. The kid was a 5 year old terror and as I watched him complain and whine and touch every single surface with his sticky, and I was convinced, snot covered fingers, I was grateful that this monster was not mine.

The mother ordered a 5000 calorie coffee drink, white chocolate-caramel-hazelnut-brownie bit-cherry chunk-espresso bean- chocolate Frappacino with extra whipped cream and raspberry syrup, I am only slightly exaggerating, and when the Barrista calls her drink he then puts down my plain and simple espresso Frappacino and the 5 year old kid picked up my drink and put his snotty hands all over the lid of my drink. The mother took the drink from the kid and put her palm on the top of the drink and handed it to me without one word of apology for her little shit. I took the drink from her in a highly dramatic fashion. I held the drink like it was covered with cooties and snot germs and I handed it to the Barrista and asked for another lid. The Barrista, my new best friend, started to laugh. "That kid was like an octopus" He replaced my lid and commiserated with me. I love this man so much for feeling my pain. We gave each other a knowing smile that was the psychic equivalent of exchanging phone numbers and making plans for a slumber party where we will braid each others hair and talk shit about kids.

By the time we go into the Crew He-weasel wasn't even stalking me the way he usually does in a store. That is usually how he gets me to quit shopping. He tails me. He invades my personal space. He is so close to me that I cannot look at anything. Usually after a few minutes of that I suggest he goes to the men section or goes and finds a bench. Yesterday, I didn't have to do that. Yesterday, he gave me space to shop.

I went into J Crew with the intention of getting a cardigan for my trip to Portland. I got a Jackie Black Cardigan and Shell. Oh, and I got the black City-fit stretch chino café capri--- these don't look like a capri on more like a very slightly cropped chino. I cannot recommend these pants more. Great fit. I might even get them in a few more colours. Yep! Colours!! And, I was looking for the J Crew wife beater with a shelf bra. A 19 year old hottie asked me if he could help me find anything. I explained to him what I was looking for. He had never before heard the concept of a shelf bra and I felt that the more I explained the shelf bra the more disturbed he grew. He had a look on his face not dissimilar to the look I had on my face when I worked at video store as an adolescent and old guys came in asking for porn films.

Apple was charging too much for an airplane charger for my MacBook and for adapters---so we decided to go to Frye's. And, even though we were at Frye's to get adapters, converters, and a flash drive for me, I tailed He-weasel. I invaded his space. I did everything I could with my mind, body and spirit to communicate I wanted out of Frye's as soon as possible. Truly, Frye's is the only store I have ever gone in where I am sure just being in the store slows down my metabolic rate. The huge mega-computer and A/V warehouse makes me want to revert to my three year old tactics of laying on the ground and asking my mother if we can go home now. When I saw pregnant women #15, He-weasel saw my face and took me to the line to check out and asked if maybe I wanted to go shoe shopping next.

P.S. J Crew is offering 20% off all merchandise today through Wednesday if you purchase $125 or more. The code is PRIVSALE.