OP
OP
Dulcimer Diva
graduate
Oops, I did it again (eeeuww...a sr. citizen quoting Britney Spears).
Woke up this morning, went to my "tiled library," flipped open the cover of my iPad and gasped in horror: the glass surface beneath the flip-open cover was crazed and cracked. It was fine last night, so I suspect a furry resident of my house did not appreciate its usurping "his" spot atop the towel stand. Called Apple, confirmed it was still under warranty, and prepared to combine trips to the Apple Store with those to Whole Foods and either Tar-zhay or Bed Bath & Beyond for provisions & supplies for our upcoming block party this Saturday. (Displaying our flags is a block-party tradition, but some miscreant stole my flag & pole last year so I need to replace it).
Now, there's a closer and bigger Apple Store down in Lincoln Park, but walking there from the parking garage requires a long walk across a major arterial, and I'm not exactly fleet-of-foot these days. So I chose to drive 8 miles out of my way to the one up in Old Orchard, where there are no intersections to cross. Walked in and was aghast to find the next available Genius Bar appointment was 90 minutes hence. Too much time to stand around, nothing I wanted to shop for at an upscale mall, wasn't hungry for dinner. But certainly not enough time to drive to the discount stores to get my block party supplies and then get back to the Apple Store, find parking, and walk from the parking lot. Salesman took pity on me and found me a padded folding chair, during which time I read an e-book on my disintegrating iPad. Mirabile dictu, my appointment was moved up 40 minutes in the queue and after replacing my iPad and restoring its backup I was on my way.
It was now 8 hrs. since my first (late morning) Norco of the day, and I'd just tapered down to 5mg. TID. But all I had on me was a 10 mg (which needs a pill-splitter to be halved), and darned if I was going to pop an opioid and get behind the wheel. So I cowgirled-up and headed for Target. Parked, exited the car, and then saw a blinding flash and heard a huge boom. Oh, great: our 10% probability of storms had morphed into 100%. The party stuff and groceries could wait another day, so I dove back into the car and was safely sealed inside just as the heavens opened. I was starving--so I drove to Baker's Square en route home, jonesing for their quiche. Got out of the car, gingerly made my (sandaled) way around the deepening puddles, and prayed my aluminum cane wouldn't be a lightning rod. Plopped my drowned-rat self into a booth, picked up a menu and....no quiche. (I hate it when chain restaurants keep changing their menus). The waitress informed me that it was "free pie Wednesday:" any dish I ordered over five bucks came with a free slice of any pie in stock. Trouble was, nothing on the menu spoke to me. I am fast approaching the point where I can no longer eat as I please without figure consequences, so if I'm going to eat stuff I shouldn't it had better be ambrosial! I slunk out of the restaurant into the rain and got back into the car.
There is one food item I truly miss (well, two if you count a chocolate-frosted-cream-filled Krispy Kreme, which is not in the cards here on the North Side) and haven't eaten in nearly 9 months: fried chicken. And all the Chicago Yelp-ers are in agreement that the best is not KFC, Popeye's or even Harold's The Fried Chicken King: it's a dinky little stand called Krispy Krunchy Chicken, run by a pair of Pakistani brothers and located (incongruously) inside a Citgo station. I pulled in, waited till they fried up a fresh batch, and brought home enough (plus a small jambalaya) for Gordy & me. Managed to duck between the raindrops and into the house, pop my half-Norco (and half-Tylenol) dish some out and plop myself down with leg elevated and iced. Took one bite---OMG, it's even better than Gus' in Memphis or Stroud's in K.C., easily the equal of White Fence Farm (Brithael, Jean--you S. Siders know what I mean). So if that was the last fried chicken I ever eat, I can die happy. (And the jambalaya's almost as good as my own).
So you know what that means--nearly 10 hrs. between Norco doses, and an enforced "kneecation." The low-pressure cold front didn't help matters, either. Only hope it stays dry enough tomorrow for my Target & Whole Foods runs. (At least it's been long enough since that half-Norco and before my next that I can make myself a mojito with the handful of mint I grabbed from my garden).
Woke up this morning, went to my "tiled library," flipped open the cover of my iPad and gasped in horror: the glass surface beneath the flip-open cover was crazed and cracked. It was fine last night, so I suspect a furry resident of my house did not appreciate its usurping "his" spot atop the towel stand. Called Apple, confirmed it was still under warranty, and prepared to combine trips to the Apple Store with those to Whole Foods and either Tar-zhay or Bed Bath & Beyond for provisions & supplies for our upcoming block party this Saturday. (Displaying our flags is a block-party tradition, but some miscreant stole my flag & pole last year so I need to replace it).
Now, there's a closer and bigger Apple Store down in Lincoln Park, but walking there from the parking garage requires a long walk across a major arterial, and I'm not exactly fleet-of-foot these days. So I chose to drive 8 miles out of my way to the one up in Old Orchard, where there are no intersections to cross. Walked in and was aghast to find the next available Genius Bar appointment was 90 minutes hence. Too much time to stand around, nothing I wanted to shop for at an upscale mall, wasn't hungry for dinner. But certainly not enough time to drive to the discount stores to get my block party supplies and then get back to the Apple Store, find parking, and walk from the parking lot. Salesman took pity on me and found me a padded folding chair, during which time I read an e-book on my disintegrating iPad. Mirabile dictu, my appointment was moved up 40 minutes in the queue and after replacing my iPad and restoring its backup I was on my way.
It was now 8 hrs. since my first (late morning) Norco of the day, and I'd just tapered down to 5mg. TID. But all I had on me was a 10 mg (which needs a pill-splitter to be halved), and darned if I was going to pop an opioid and get behind the wheel. So I cowgirled-up and headed for Target. Parked, exited the car, and then saw a blinding flash and heard a huge boom. Oh, great: our 10% probability of storms had morphed into 100%. The party stuff and groceries could wait another day, so I dove back into the car and was safely sealed inside just as the heavens opened. I was starving--so I drove to Baker's Square en route home, jonesing for their quiche. Got out of the car, gingerly made my (sandaled) way around the deepening puddles, and prayed my aluminum cane wouldn't be a lightning rod. Plopped my drowned-rat self into a booth, picked up a menu and....no quiche. (I hate it when chain restaurants keep changing their menus). The waitress informed me that it was "free pie Wednesday:" any dish I ordered over five bucks came with a free slice of any pie in stock. Trouble was, nothing on the menu spoke to me. I am fast approaching the point where I can no longer eat as I please without figure consequences, so if I'm going to eat stuff I shouldn't it had better be ambrosial! I slunk out of the restaurant into the rain and got back into the car.
There is one food item I truly miss (well, two if you count a chocolate-frosted-cream-filled Krispy Kreme, which is not in the cards here on the North Side) and haven't eaten in nearly 9 months: fried chicken. And all the Chicago Yelp-ers are in agreement that the best is not KFC, Popeye's or even Harold's The Fried Chicken King: it's a dinky little stand called Krispy Krunchy Chicken, run by a pair of Pakistani brothers and located (incongruously) inside a Citgo station. I pulled in, waited till they fried up a fresh batch, and brought home enough (plus a small jambalaya) for Gordy & me. Managed to duck between the raindrops and into the house, pop my half-Norco (and half-Tylenol) dish some out and plop myself down with leg elevated and iced. Took one bite---OMG, it's even better than Gus' in Memphis or Stroud's in K.C., easily the equal of White Fence Farm (Brithael, Jean--you S. Siders know what I mean). So if that was the last fried chicken I ever eat, I can die happy. (And the jambalaya's almost as good as my own).
So you know what that means--nearly 10 hrs. between Norco doses, and an enforced "kneecation." The low-pressure cold front didn't help matters, either. Only hope it stays dry enough tomorrow for my Target & Whole Foods runs. (At least it's been long enough since that half-Norco and before my next that I can make myself a mojito with the handful of mint I grabbed from my garden).
United States
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