I Like Big Bridges

Ever since I was a little kid, I’ve had a fascination with bridges. So when I heard on the news last night that a bridge crossing Lake Michigan was proposed, I was intrigued. 

I live on the shore of Lake Michigan and I can tell you this – it’s BIG. 

Huge.

So, I was intrigued by the prospect of a bridge crossing over it. Connecting the shores of Wisconsin with Michigan with a bridge would be mind-boggling.  It would keep me entertained for years.

Then I got to thinking about it and realized such an endeavor would be . . . 

well . . . 

stupid. 

First, let’s talk about the size of the bridge. The longest bridge I know of crosses Lake Ponchartrain in Louisiana and it’s 24 miles long. Lake Michigan is 90 miles across, so this thing would be over three times longer. 

But the real clincher is that Lake Ponchartrain is little more than a swamp; it’s probably about seven inches deep, so its 24-mile bridge is no big feat. 

Lake Michigan is 300 feet deep. You do the comparison. 

Let’s talk about the weather up here. Namely, winter. 

For three months of the year, Lake Michigan is inundated with wind-driven, thick ice and blizzards. Ships don’t even brave Lake Michigan in the winter. Would you want to drive an automobile 90 miles across that? 

What if you needed to stop for a bathroom break? What if you needed gas? Or worse – How would you stop for Starbucks?

If you still don’t think the weather would be a problem, I have two words for you:

Edmund Fitzgerald. 

Get the picture?

Now, let’s talk about practicality. Why would we need a bridge across Lake Michigan? One argument is so that people in Wisconsin and Michigan could cross over without having to go through Chicago. 

Would this be a likely scenario? Here’s a family in Grand Rapids, Michigan:

“Honey, let’s go to Chicago for the weekend. How about it?”

“Oh, but now that there’s a bridge across Lake Michigan, let’s go to Sheboygan instead!”

So, yes, a big bridge across the lake would be cool. I’d find it fascinating. 

But practically speaking, all I have to say to those proposing such an endeavor is: 

  

“Rub a lamp.”

Baha'i

Here in the Chicago area, there’s a large Baha’i temple in the northern suburb of Wilmette. There’s even an exit on I-94 that says “Baha’i Temple”, so I’ve been curious to see it.

Yesterday after work, I took a little excursion out to the suburb of Wilmette to see this place. I have fond memories of the Baha’i faith, actually. During my first semester in college, the local Baha’i community had a recruitment gathering on campus that I attended. It was my first  encounter with a non-Christian faith and that was pretty exciting to me at the time. Also, the people seemed really nice. 

Baha’i for Dummies: They believe that God continually manifests Himself through successive messengers and religions. Abraham, Krishna, Buddha, Christ, and Mohammed were all messengers. The most recent one was Baha’u’llah in the mid-1800s who founded the Baha’i faith in Iran. All religions are manifestations of God; unity of humanity. It’s actually quite appealing. 

Also, they seem to like apostrophes a lot. 

I took the EL north to the end of the line. Five blocks away, the temple emerged. 

Oh my gosh, it’s huge! I can see why it has its own freeway exit. 

All Baha’i temples are nine-sided. 9 is the highest “single” number so it signifies the unity of religion and humanity; or something like that. 

It’s surrounded by really pretty grounds with lots of fountains. The place is practically a bird sanctuary. I even saw a very large deer ambling about.

And here’s a Baha’i bunny. 

I took the tour in the visitor’s center, learned a lot about them, and then sat in the temple for quite a while. I watched the sun slowly inching its way up one of the nine sides as it set.

Photo from Wikipedia (Photography is not allowed inside)

Thoughts of how I was on this tiny, revolving planet in a solar system, in a galaxy in the cosmos, and probably in an infinite number of universes came to mind.  It’s quite a tranquil place. 

I didn’t want to leave. 

Knowing myself, I’ll probably end up converting . . .

Rubbing Shoulders with the Mayor

Recently, I was dining with some dear friends at our usual hang-out, the incomparable Lao Sze Chuan in Chicago’s Chinatown. We had brought our own bottle of wine to accompany the meal; an Australian malbec. 

It was a Sunday evening and the place was unusually crowded, probably due to the Chinese New Year celebrations. We had placed our orders and noticed that Chicago’s mayor, Rahm Emanuel, and his family appeared and had taken a large table near ours. 

Two of our entrees appeared and we gave our bottle of wine to the server to be uncorked. By that time, most of the servers and the owner of the place were all buzzing around the mayor’s table. 

Our entrees stopped coming. The wine hadn’t been returned. It was obvious that the staff were occupying themselves with the mayor and his entourage. 

I looked over at the mayor’s table and said to my friends: “Hey. I think that’s our bottle of wine on his table!”

I walked over to ask a waiter about our elusive bottle of wine. More buzzing ensued upon my query. It turned out that, yes, they had plopped our wine down in front of the mayor. The owner was frantically ‘shooshing’ me, placing his index finger over his lips. A substitute bottle of wine was promised.

I returned to our table where my friends were having a good laugh over the mix-up. By that time, the owner and a waiter appeared with an ersatz bottle of pinot noir and many apologies. We told him that all was well, for this would make a great story. The entertainment value of their mistake was far higher than our malbec. 

And here’s a photo I snapped of our mayor. 

Yes, it’s uncool to post this. But after all, he got our wine. 

Needless to say, the fact that the mayor chose our favorite restaurant for his evening out (and subjected himself to patrons snapping his photo) just goes to show you how great the food really is at Lao Sze Chuan.

Evening Scene

From my balcony.

Baggage Claim

Having traveled about the country quite a bit, I’ve realized the value in having just the right piece of baggage for the trip. 

A plain, black carry-on is fine, but once you’re standing at a crowded baggage carousel, you’ll soon realize how many other passengers have baggage that looks just like yours. Once your plain, black piece of baggage is lost, you’ll feel like a dolt telling the airline rep to be on the lookout for a plain, black piece of luggage. 

I used to tie a red bandana to the bottom of mine in order to identify it. That was always a great idea. I could easily spot my bag as it inched its way around to me. Finally the bandana became tattered and barely red at all from all the traveling about. 

I get a chuckle when I see these expensive sets of luggage on display at nice department stores like Macy’s. Here are these gorgeous, color-coordinated, designer sets in maroon and moss-colored paisley print. Sure, that piece would look lovely rolling through the terminal, but that bag is going to be shoved along dirty conveyor belts, dropped onto muddy tarmacs, and crammed into cargo holds along with other nasty pieces of god-knows-what.   

One trip across the Midwest on a snowy night and you’ll find yourself dragging a five-hundred dollar, muddied-up piece of paisley crap through a terminal in Des Moines. 

I took this video at O’Hare on Christmas day after watching pieces of luggage smash into each other and drop to the tarmac. Keep this video in mind when packing that bottle of expensive olive oil you’re bringing as a gift. 

One can practically hear expensive Christmas gifts being smashed to pieces. 

So, after many years of traveling, I’ve come across the perfect piece of luggage. It’s a carry-on piece that comes in hard plastic (can be wiped clean), it comes in black, blue, or brown (I chose blue because I like blue and it’s easy to identify. Isn’t it pretty?

And here’s the best part: It also has a garment bag inside. Wow! Large enough to accommodate a 42-long suit with nary a wrinkle:

I’ve traveled with it and it fits perfectly into the overhead compartment. 

You can order it here at Amazon. Trust me. It’s a great piece of traveling equipment. 

Leave that designer, paisley stuff on display at Macy’s -- where it belongs.

Bacchanalia

Little neighborhood restaurants are such a priceless gem. I had my first meal at Bacchanalia in Chicago almost twenty-five years ago and have loved it every since. My friend, Jack, and his family have been dining there much longer. It's just a tiny slip of a place; a family-owned establishment nestled in a little, out-of-the-way Italian enclave.

 

The food cannot be beaten. It's hearty, Southern Italian fare but about as far away from Olive Garden as one can get.

Our waitress knew us; she'd been working there for decades. A complementary platter of pasta with vodka sauce appeared. It's that kind of place.

Antipasto for everyone:

Calamari stuffed with pork:

Eggplant Parmesan with meat sauce:

Stuffed mussels with linguini and white clam sauce:

Scallops Diavolo:

These are just a few of the gorgeous samplings there. 

By all means, order their fried calamari. It's buttery, tender, and light as a feather. Their penne arrabiata is to die for. Tons of garlic, olives, and a touch of allspice lace the fiery tomato sauce. But only the cognoscenti order it; it's not even on the menu.

If you really want a treat, order their Porterhouse Vesuvio; a char-grilled monster served in a robust, garlicky brown sauce. 

Desserts came, coffee came, another carafe of red wine followed, and laughter ensued among old friends. 

The waitress who'd been there for decades got a kiss on the cheek from each of us.

It's that kind of place.

Norma Jean

Here's a clever use for the giant statue of Marilyn Monroe in Chicago.

For some reason, Noah's family on the ark leaps to mind. . .  

Morning Scene - Smallville

These vehicles are props for the Superman/Smallville movie that’s currently being filmed here in downtown Chicago. While not in use, they’re squirreled away in this lower-level back alley.

During the summer months, movie scenes are often filmed here. I can honestly say that any movie that’s filmed in downtown Chicago is probably one of those “action” films and, subsequently, one that I shall never see.

Morning Scene

Here's a really cool view of my apartment building. 

This photo also makes for a nice desktop background. 

Click here if you'd like to see some photos of various residents' apartments. Some of them are pretty amazing. (Mine was not featured. I completely missed out on the interior decorating gene and am a disgrace to My People.)

Afternoon Scene - Window Washing

I watched a pretty intricate window washing process going on at the Aqua building.

There's a guy on a little platform that moves up and down the building.

The horizontal boom moves him in and out according to the width of the balconies. He then reaches out and washes each window by hand.

Very impressive.

Afternoon Scene - Buildings

You know, if you just look up, one can see some pretty interesting geometry.

M Burger!

We Chicagoans are pretty lucky folk when it comes to food. Yes, we have Chicago deep dish pizza (a heavenly creation if there ever was one) and just about every other type of cuisine this world has to offer. 

But recently, we got "M Burger."

Some folks that I sing with at church choir treated me to my first M Burger after church the other day. They were amazed that I hadn't had one yet. 

Apparently, when M Burger opened in Chicago, it caught on and there were lines around the block. The thing is, there are only two MBurger establishments in Chicago and both of them are teeny-tiny places. 

So, what makes an MBurger so incredible? 

First, the meat is fresh and it's char-grilled to order. Next, it's topped with sharp cheddar. It also contains their own special sauce and (here's the clincher) slices of thick, sweet, smokey bacon. Aside from all that, the M Burger employees are always super-duper friendly. They know they're onto a good thing.

You put all that together, and you've got the M Burger experience.

I was singing for a wedding this afternoon and during the ceremony I realized I had hardly eaten anything all day. I was one hungry puppy. Then, I realized that one of the two M Burger places was on my way home. Finally, the couple said their "I do's", I shucked my choir robe and headed to ground zero of hamburger heaven. 

See? It's just an inconspicuous, tiny place.

 Once inside, there's probably only room for about eight people to sit. (I was standing by the front door when I took this photo.)

I rushed home with two M Burgers - - 

And here they are:

(Que heavenly angels singing here)

So, if you're ever in Chicago, visit the Sears Tower, go to a Cubs game, eat a deep dish pizza.

But also have yourself an M Burger.

Hot Pot

Last night, I had the pleasure of dining at our all-time favorite restaurant with my friends. Lao Sze Chuan in Chinatown continues to “wow” and surprise us at every visit.

This time, Liane, Miss Healthypants, and I decided to branch out from the usual menu selections and ordered their famous Hot Pot. For those unfamiliar with Hot Pot, it’s sort of the Chinese equivalent of fondue.

A boiling cauldron of broth is brought to the table set atop a heat source. In this case, we selected the two-sided cauldron featuring a mild broth and a fiery, chili-garlic infused broth. In this photo, we’ve already dumped in some veggies.

Then, they bring out your dunking items. Here’s a plate containing shrimp, mussels, squid, fresh fish, assorted vegetables, tofu, fish balls, pork balls, and squid balls. Bean-thread noodles are on the side.

And if that wasn’t enough, out comes a platter of thinly sliced beef and lamb.

A variety of dipping sauces accompanies the Hot Pot.

Each diner plunks an item in a little wire basket and dunks it in the simmering broth to cook it. Here is Miss Healthypants, preparing a fish ball with glee and mirth.

Needless to say, Hot Pot is a delightfully messy endeavor.

It’s a lot of food and we couldn’t finish it all. But what a great way to enjoy a meal – casually simmering tasty things at a leisurely pace.

Good food and great friends. We’re lucky people.

Morning Scene - Aon Center

It's a cold, blustery, misty day here in Chicago. Here's a cool view of the 83-story Aon Center where I work. This is the corner of the building looking up to the tippy-top that's shrouded in clouds.  And no, this is not a black & white photo -- it's just a dreary, gray day

Dinner and Friends

Last Wednesday, my dear friends Miss Healthypants and Liane and I were finally able to go out to eat at our all-time favorite restaurant, Lao Sze Chuan.


We had intended to go during the previous week, but with the temperatures hovering well below zero, it would have been a bothersome and painful endeavor. The Blizzaster of 2011 and other cold temperatures had kept us from it before that.

We always have an incredibly great time together. Pure, unalloyed fun. We’re lucky people.

Also, there’s the astoundingly good food at Lao. I’ve said it before many times, but this Chinatown restaurant is amazing. It features Szechuan cuisine and it’s the real McCoy, too – nothing remotely related to Panda Express. If you like hot and spicy, Lao Sze Chuan is ground zero.

Here are photos of our meal:

Beef in Szechuan Sauce. It’s a huge serving and one of their signature items. (If you get the serving to go, it’s two quarts.)

Dry Chili Chicken: Lightly fried, salty chicken with lots of garlic, five spice powder, and an amazing amount of chili.

Kung Pao Scallops.

Spinich with garlic. (The things this place can do with vegetables is astounding.)


Now, here’s the fun part. Afterward, we were meandering among the shops in Chinatown and came upon this brightly-lit Asian candy store. Candy – neat!

The place had dozens of bins filled with little wrapped candies of all sorts. There were even little bowls of samples – I love that. I’ll eat anything weird. I tried one called “Dried Red Peach” and exclaimed that they should definitely try it.

Miss Healthypants asked, “Is it really good?” and I said, “No! You should try it just to see how horrible it is!” (Which it was. It was bitter, salty and mostly tasted like rotten, fermented cedar.) “But you should taste it, really!”

Then, we came upon the most interesting item of all. Like I said, all the candies were individually wrapped, but this one particular item caused a stir among us. I couldn’t help but to buy one. Here it is:

Now, what does it look like to you? We were wondering: Would an Asian candy store really carry one particular feminine product as well?

I can just see it now. “Hey! Asian candy! And I’m have a ‘heavy’ day, anyway. Let’s go there.”

Hilarity ensued on the ride home.

Afterward, I looked this item up on line. It’s a Japanese candy called a Caplico Stick and it’s described as a “frosting-tipped waffle biscuit.” I still haven’t opened it. I keep it in a little side-pocket of my shoulder bag, right were it belongs.

So, that was our evening.

Needless to say, we’re already looking forward to our next outing.

Morning Scene - Remnants

Even though temperatures are climbing into the 50s now, there are still big, ugly remnants of the "Blizzaster" that occurred on February 2nd.

The snow is quickly melting, but the sidewalks are now a goopy, muddy mess.