Nic Narrates

I’ve been thinking a lot about romance lately. What it looks like, what it’s symbolized by; what counts as romance and what doesn’t.

I used to believe that romance was about Grand Gestures- things like full-on floral bouquets, hand-scrawled love letters and cards, and thoughtfully planned out dates.  A younger me believed romance was a very showy thing, and it was. From time to time, that show was for me- the flowers, the cards, the dates. But inevitably, the reckoning would come, and I’d realize all that “romance” was just a show. And every show comes to an end eventually.

These were the thoughts, the new beliefs, that filled my mind the other morning as I walked down the street to drive to work. Tumbling around and around…Do I have romance in my relationship? Am I a romantic person? What’s romantic to him? And then, I saw it. There on the windshield of one of the cars, was a single flower tucked away with care. A daylily, surreptitiously picked form a flower garden at the corner.

I paused as I looked at it, thinking about the person who woke up early and left it there. I thought about the surprise waiting for whomever it was intended. It was small and insignificant, it wasn’t Grand Gesture Romantic, but it was kindness. It didn’t cost a thing, but it felt like romance in its purest form. Simple. Honest. True. And in that moment, the kindness between those people touched me too.

Maybe romance is less about the great and the grand, and more about everyday kindnesses that accumulate over time, accumulate and last.

Walking away, I was surprised but happy to realize I didn’t envy them their romance. I could smile at it and move on. I didn’t even hope against hope there’d be a flower waiting for me too. But, by the time I reached the car (my boyfriend’s, I should note, which he’s graciously given me the keys to) and opened the door, I found my own reason to smile.

Sometimes, romance is a daylily left behind on an early morning windshield. Other times, it’s a shiny new six pack of unsweetened iced tea placed in the car at the start of a hard work week.

Filed under: a thing of beauty, city encounters, my boyfriend is a saint, nicely done by Nic
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If you’re like me, you love to put on a fancy dress and head out to a new restaurant. So, I’ve decided to bring you along: think of it as “Show and Tell.” In my new (at least monthly) blog series, “Dressing for Dinner,” I’ll show you what I wore, where I went, and what I ate during a night out with my boyfriend or friends, in Chicago or other locales. The only requirements: a dress and a dinner! And now, on with the first in the series…Dressing for Dinner at Graham Elliot.

Someone Needs to Get Some Sun

The dress: Call it “Old Reliable,” this dress has been in my closet for nearly 7 years and has been worn to summer weddings, dinner outings, and even work events. The tag is so worn that it is now indecipherable, but I can tell you this: I got it from Carson Pirie Scott and it cost less than $100. I don’t know about you, but I sincerely miss their gem of an affordable dress department ever since they closed their State Street store. Luckily, this dress still (albeit barely) fits!

Action Shot En Route

Given the tattooed nature of Graham Elliot and the alternative vibe to his wine list and menu, I thought the scrolling detail of the dress worked well for the occasion. With side ruching, an asymmetrical hem, and a forgiving fabric; this dress was perfect for a hot summer night.

I paired it with nude leather Luichiny strappy sandals, a black oversized Coach “Kristin” clutch (who I’ve dubbed instead “Bridgette,” as in Bardot), and bracelets from Tiffany & Co. and The Art Institute gift shop (close up). Love my new nail polish too! OPI Elephantastic Pink.

The dinner: Graham Elliot. The space, service, and menu options were classic but with a modern feel…a lighthearted take on what would otherwise be a more formal dining experience. There were pops of green in the restaurant decor with large street-facing windows flooding the dining room in late day natural light. Waitstaff sported Chuck Taylors and oversized “ge” logo belt buckles, and the man himself popped out of the kitchen while upbeat music filled the chatty dining space and his famous popcorn graced its tables. Speaking of the food, instead of choosing one of the three pre fixe tasting menus, we opted instead to make our own selections from the “cold,” “hot,” “sea,” “land” (rootbeer braised pork spare ribs not pictured below), and “sweet” sections of the menu. Take a look…

Graham Elliot's "Fancy" Popcorn with Truffle Oil and Friends

Heirloom Tomato with Balsamic Foam (Or The Prettiest Caprese Salad You'll Ever See)

Carpaccio of Beef with Arugula Sprout and Horseradish Mustard

Sea Scallops with Caper Berry, Meyer Lemon, and Smoked Almond

Alaskan Halibut with Morel Mushroom, Baby Asparagus, and Pumpernickle Dust

Watermelon & Lemon Verbena Gelatin Dessert with a Honeydew Sorbet topped with Blackberry, Cucumber, and Raw Honey

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The verdict: All in all, a lovely “light” dinner where each course built upon the previous, leaving us feeling full but not disgusting as we stepped out into the muggy evening. We felt so great in fact that we wandered down the street to Nacional 27 for another drink or two…or three or four! When you can, definitely spring (estimate $200-250 for two including drinks and gratuity) for a dinner at Graham Elliot’s friendly restaurant with an artful yet approachable menu. And, don’t forget a fun dress!

Filed under: a thing of beauty, dressing for dinner, fanciness, i heart fashion, shoes by Nic
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Last night, my boyfriend sat slumped over my laptop. He was showing me his commitment, his desire to be with me. And I was showing him my openness to change, my desire to be with him.

In the wake of our trip to Seattle and Alaska, a decision was reached: no more retreating to our separate apartments more often than not, no more hiding out in the familiarity of our “single person” routines. We decided it was time to either live together or begin spending more time at each other’s places- living together “light” if you will. For now, we decided on the latter, which still meant certain changes had to be made in the interim.

First, I’d need to purchase and leave all of the toiletries required and some key pieces of clothing at his place so that I’m able to go directly to work. Second, he’d need to purchase and install a wireless router at my place so that he can use his work laptop while staying over (he’s “on call” 24 hours a day in case the Internet explodes or some junk).

With my shampoo and conditioner and his router each in their respective places, it’s now up to us to change our behaviors to match our logistical planning. It’s up to us to actually make the effort to spend more time together. “Moment of truth” stuff.

Later, after the wireless router decided to cooperate and maintain its connection, after we’d gone to bed still exhausted from Pitchfork over the weekend, I laid awake thinking about all that was changing. Maybe it’s subtle at the moment, maybe it hasn’t quite reached the point of keys being exchanged, but suddenly it seemed like much more than just the Internet had come untethered in my home.

In becoming more committed to my boyfriend and to our relationship, I’d somehow also become less in control of my own living space. Now there’s someone else typing on the computer across my living room, someone else tossing and turning in my bed beside me, someone else flipping through channels on my TV, someone else’s insatiable need for Diet Pepsi aghast at my empty refrigerator.

And then, there it was- the realization that I’ve never opened up my home to someone else in this way before. I’ve never needed or wanted to, never reached that “place” with someone. The truth is, no one’s ever tried to be a part of my life in the ways that he is now.

Last night, I gained a new connection to the Internet…and to him.

Filed under: awesomeness, cohabitation, crossroads, just say 'when', letting go, my boyfriend is a saint, singletons, wakefulness by Nic
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I came across an interesting premise in blogging while reading Susannah Conway’s beautiful blog today. Dust off a few various and sundry posts, then highlight one from another blogger you admire. Susannah’s done so, and, if you’ll indulge me, I’d like to do the same. In particular, I’m trotting out the following (and bending the “rules” a bit):

• Your first post (Mine: “My First Blog” - this post is so trite and BLAH and fearful of being anything special that it’s actually embarrassingly painful to share. Ouch.)
• A post you enjoyed writing the most (Mine: “Taking Stock” -  it felt really, really, REALLY good to reflect on and accurately portray the path that lead me to where I am at 30.)
• A post which had a great discussion (Mine: I have two posts actually… “ISO Guy with Dentist Pen” not only for all of your interesting comments but also for leading my boyfriend to find me, and “Race Relations in the Race to the Altar” because of the amazingly complex and honest responses each of you gave on such a difficult topic.)
• A post on someone else’s blog that you wish you’d written (Brandy at “It’s Like I’m…mmmagic!” has written several posts over the years that I sincerely admire, however, recently I was deeply moved by two in particular: this and this. Brandy, I hope that you have a great summer adventure with H.A.D. at Harry Potter World!) 
• Your most helpful post (Mine: “30 By 30” – I got to be the conductor of the Cliché Train all the way to Tritesville with this post, but you know what? Cliché or not, that shit is all TRUE.)
• A post with a title that you are proud of (Mine: “Remembering Putz” – maybe not so much for the title itself, but for the sentiment the post captures.)
• A post that you wish more people had read (Mine: “Cutting Through” – in an effort to be authentic and own something that will always be a part of me, this post became the most difficult narrative I’ve ever written.)

So, that’s it. Now that I’ve shown you mine, show me yours. Be sure to leave a comment with a link to your own!

*An especially timely bit of nostalgia as my blog reaches its FOUR YEAR mark next Wednesday. Who knew I had so much to say?!

Filed under: anyone out there?, blogging about blogging, creative time management, educating the masses, in memory, just say 'when', nostalgia, write on by Nic
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Did you just say "vaginal tear"?

Remember my pregnant friend- the one who’s pretty much been MIA since she got married and who had the Baby Couple’s Shower? Well, a week before I went to Alaska and found my true calling (to hug whales, of course!), there came a flurry of texts from her husband announcing she was having The Baby.

I sent a card and flowers, then waited a few days after an initial “Congrats/ love you” text message to her before I called. I didn’t want to impose and didn’t want to take time away from The Baby, but I still wanted to personally tell her how happy I was for her and see how she was feeling. Alas, but unsurprisingly, I had to leave a message.

Later that night, the phone rang and her number came up…except it turned out it wasn’t her at all. It was her husband. Calling from her phone. To tell me all about The Baby and The Birth and the current state of my friend’s HOO-HA. Yeah. I’m completely serious right now. He told me about what happened down there and bodily functions and how big “it” got and how many stitches and how sore and…and just…fuck no.

Here’s the thing, I think it’s great that my friend’s husband is so “present” for her and I’m really glad that they found each other and got married and now have The Baby and all that “American Dream” stuff. Really. But, I don’t need him to be so “present” in my friendship with her. I don’t need him to be my friend too. I have nothing in common with him and have little interest in knowing him better. The way I see it, the only thing I need to know is that he treats her well and makes her happy. Other than that, I can like him well enough as her husband without having to also like him as a friend to me.

So, no matter how he or anyone else wants to wrap it up and say he’s just being “nice” or “helpful” or whatever, I don’t want him returning my phone call on her behalf, especially without her knowledge of him doing so, let alone that I called in the first place. I don’t want him to receive instead the very heartfelt and personal message that I left for her on her phone. And I don’t want him telling me the details of her going into labor and what The Birth was like. That’s the kind of thing I want (well, as much as I can want to hear about childbirth- honestly it gives me the heebie-jeebies) to hear from her, not him.

The whole conversation and the context in which it played out made me feel uncomfortable, icky, and apprehensive about calling again. Rather than her husband, he’s beginning to come across as her gatekeeper and it’s just….weird. Yes? No? Sort of?

Call me selfish or an asshole. Accuse me of refusing to embrace change. But, as far as I’m concerned, no matter how much I may or may not like a friend’s significant other, that person is not a replacement for them.

Filed under: WTF, boys suck, crossroads, dirty laundry, friends, poor choices, things people say, toolbaggery by Nic
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“Yeah hi. I’m calling because my monthly bill has increased $10 and I’m wondering why.”

“Let me just pull up your account…..I see you have our SUPER-DOUBLE-WHATEVER-WE-WANT-TO-REBRAND-OURSELVES-TO-COVER-OUR-INCREASE-IN-PRICES package.”

“Yup…same one I’ve had for the past nine months.”

“Right. Well, due to an increase in operating costs, I’m sure you can understand, we’ve had to raise our prices ever so slightly. I do see that, as a special thank you from us, you’ll receive HBO for the next six months for free.”

“Yeah, I’ve had that for free for the past nine months too. What if I just trade you HBO for my $10 back each month?”

“Are you unhappy with your services?”

“No, I guess not. I just don’t know what value I’m getting for $10 more a month.”

“We’ve recently enhanced our Internet speed….”

“Really? It’s working the same as before….”

“Well, if you want to upgrade to our…”

“No, I don’t want to upgrade. I just don’t see how I’m better off.”

“We can look at other SIMILARLY-PRICED-IF-NOT-MORE-EXPENSIVE packages if you…”

“No. You know what? No. Maybe just don’t acquire a network on its last lap around the drain (sorry 30 Rock, I still heart you) and stop hiring Don Draper to do your commercial voice-overs. Maybe then you wouldn’t have to raise prices.”

“……….”

“Well, not you. You know what I mean. Hey, are you still there?”

“Yes.”

“Anyway. So, $10 more a month?

“Yes.”

“GREAT.”

How the conversation really went….

“Hi, I’m calling because I keep getting cryptic calls from this number and want to know why.”

“Let me just check your information………..right. We’re just calling as a courtesy to verify your service disconnection request.”

“My what?”

“Service disconnection.”

“Ah, no. I didn’t request that. Don’t do that. No.”

“Okay, well, that’s why we have these sorts of calls! Hehehehehehehe…”

“Yeah, but you didn’t even leave a message or anything. Also, why am I even being called about this?”

“With computers these days you just never can tell. Somebody pushes the wrong button here and it comes out wrong there and….you know how it is. Anyway, I do see that you have our SUPER-DOUBLE-WHATEVER-WE-WANT-TO-REBRAND-OURSELVES-TO-COVER-OUR-INCREASE-IN-PRICES package.”

“Um, yeah. Just to be clear, I’d like to keep it. Again, do not disconnect anything.”

“Right. I also see that while your rate will be only $10 more a month, you’ll also receive HBO for six months for free as a special thank you from us.”

“Yes. Great. Already get it, but okay. Thank you.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you today?”

“No. Just don’t get rid of anything.”

“Got it. Thank you for calling OVERPRICED-REBRANDED-COMPANY-THAT-JUST-PUT-ONE-OVER-ON-YOUR-JANKY-ASS.”

“Yeah, okay, thanks. Bye.………wait, what? Ten dollars more? Hello? Hello? Ah, hell.”

Filed under: Tina Fey is awesome, WTF, crash and burn, going postal, hateful, i heart TV, imma badass but only in my mind, is janky the same thing as wonky?, people should be nicer to each other, poor choices, things people say by Nic
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My mom came to visit over the weekend, which is typically a delightful girly time wherein we do fancy things like get mango margaritas down the street, go for long walks, and make a fun dinner or two that enables me to bust out my cheese platter and cheese knives, colander, and spice rack. BUT, weekends with mom also tend to devolve into much exasperation and groaning on my part due to her numerous complaints about her health and refusal to do a %#&%*?#@! thing about any of them. I get it mom, you’re going to die, but do you have to, like, help death along? Also, fighting over the check and pointing out that 15% is beyond a non-acceptable tip.

ANYWAY.

Looking back on our weekend, there were a number of entertaining conversational tidbits that I thought merit sharing. Tidbits like…

Me: “Hi, mom! You made it!”

Mom: “Let me see your hand!”

Me: “Dude. Are you serious right now?”

Mom: “Oh. Nevermind. So, hiiiii…”

Apparently, it turns out, my family thought I’d come back from Alaska engaged. HA! Between seeing whales and glaciers and eagles and mountains and snow and eating lots of seafood, I don’t think my brain could have handled a proposal on top of it all. But, despite a lack of news to the contrary and despite having seen my hands in several HUNDREDS of our vacation pictures, my family still somehow thought there was a ring on one of them. WHALES, people. WHALES! Not rings! Jeez.

Mom: “Hold still for a second, there’s a smudge by your eye.”

Me: “That’s not a smudge. It’s an age spot.”

Mom: “No, it’s not…oh. Hehehehe. Whoopsie.”

This is one You’re Officially Old moment that I hadn’t anticipated, especially since I’ve talked about said age spot with mom before. The upside is that I can happily report that I have acquired the Clinique Clinical Dark Spot Corrector (duty free no less thanks to some downtime at Sea-Tac!), and am already seeing results despite this disheartening mom moment.

Mom: “Do you think they’ll have that soup I had last year? The one with tomato. What’s it called?”

Me: “Gazpacho.”

Mom: “Yeah, Geshhhh-tapo.”

Me: “Gestapo?”

Mom: “Yeah. That.”

Me: “Nope. That’s not it.”

My mom, for all her “I’ll-just-eat-oatmeal-today” refusal to eat like a normal human being, actually enjoys going to the Taste and eating. I took her last year and she ate more than she put away at Thanksgiving. So, we went back again this year, once more exposing her to taste sensations like Gestapo.

Mom: “I mean, I think the PRIDE parade is great and all, but why do they get a parade for being gay? I don’t get a parade for being not gay.”

Me: “Ummm, okay. So I’m not really the expert here, but I guess it’s like….no one’s ever told you that you couldn’t get married or celebrate your lifestyle.”

Mom: “Oh, so it’s about gay marriage.”

Me: “Sort of, but no. I think it’s about celebrating overcoming obstacles and embracing who you are. Think of the civil rights movement and how we have a holiday on Martin Luther King Jr. Day. Well, just like people of other races, gay people are people too. You know?”

Mom: “Yeah…I really like those gay cowboys and their line dancing! They were the best. Oh, and the girls in tutus on the motorcycles! Too funny!”

She’s trying. Really. In fact, I’m amazed at how far she’s come. When we went to the PRIDE parade last year, she did in fact love it. More than anything, she was shocked by the clothing, or lack thereof, and by many a man’s skillful ability to strut in heels. She had fun and, I think, even surprised herself. Still, I’m not certain she knows what’s really happening there beyond the spectacle of it all.

Mom: “Can I get all of this combined into one bag for carrying?”

Whole Foods Cashier: “You most certainly can! Look at you! Such a good city person!”

After seeing her appreciation for the farmer’s market, I introduced my mom to Whole Foods. She loved it immediately, then swiftly learned why it’s also called Whole Paycheck. Girlfriend went crazy up in there! Organic hand-cut almond soap? Check. A berry-laden pie weighing more than my handbag? Check (even after I specifically warned her not to make eye contact with the bakery). Spicy tuna and Philly sushi rolls? Check (who knew she ate Gestapo and sushi?!). FOUR bags of crispy apple chips? Check. A veritable bin of broccoli crunch from the deli that cost $7.91 alone?  Check.

All in all, she was happy with her purchases albeit suffering from buyer’s remorse. Buoyed from being called a “city person” by my new gay boyfriend (he got all angsty with the biz-natch stroller mom who cut in front of us and who I just finished loudly calling a “whore,” then shared his hate with us for the double-wide strollers clogging up our quaint sidewalks. Turns out, he too wishes all the mommies would go back to Andersonville and Lincoln Park!), I didn’t want to blow her cover and sully the replete happiness with which she floated out of the store.

What can I say? My mom’s a character. A character who annoys the ever-living fuck out of me at times, but who I also love dearly.

Filed under: awesomeness, city encounters, creative time management, engaging boyfriends, family, mothering, things people say, whale hugs, work in progress, you're a card by Nic
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