a weekend to weep about.

How shall we start this story board post...oh, I know. With a picture. And LOADS of links.



Friday night started with a lovely bbq. Tilapia and asparagus? Oh, you shouldn't have (you most definitely should have)! Friday's till Labor Day mean Ruth is done with work at 2 p.m. So Fridays are pretty glorious. After the food Our Friend Kaye took us a bar down the street, the burlington, where we admired the lite brite "no requests" DJ sign while sipping tap beer. Ahhhhh, the life.

Saturday. Unpacking boxes, putting up curtains, continuing to watch Arrested Development. Continue to ignore running schedule. Pick up bikes at 2 p.m. (glee awaits!) and then head down to the Taste of Chicago to catch Stevie Wonder.

The one thing we did not get to do at the Taste? See Stevie Wonder. Too many people, not enough room. At one point, a babe still small enough to be held in one arm shoved me and gave me the stink eye. Really.

So instead, I indulged in a Bluth Banana after standing in line for 45 minutes and elbowing ladies trying to sidle into my line.



We ditched the concert early, walked around downtown, and ate some salads, quickly followed by a walk to H&M, where both Tim and I found some lovely summer clothes. Back to the train, back to Logan Square, and back to Kaye's apartment, where we set Monopoly, America's National Parks version, FREE AT LAST, casting asunder its cellophane and allowing the hiking boot, mountain bike, non-digital camera (hello, old-timey version), and fishing reel to roam the board and erect "tents" and "ranger stations" on property. Bad news, North Dakota: The Badlands = Baltic Avenue. Sad.



Sunday. Tim rounds out his weekend of cooking with two servings of Tater Tot Scrambles. Minus meat, cheese, and salsa, and substituting hot sauce and ketchup. I make fun, but I was a member of the plate club.



From there, the weekend pretty much repeated itself in short form. A little rain, a huge bike ride with Our Friend Kaye to Humbolt Park where we saw about 20 baseball games with adults dressed in full uniforms, a couple kickball games with t-shirt uniforms, and two teenagers without uniforms playing in the bushes (clears throat uncomfortably) More grilling, more eating, more shopping, and more board games. All in all, it was pretty terrific.

If you can't tell from the links. I'm going for a record here.

Short work week, friends. Yay colonial America!

Almost three years, I mean, almost four years? No, three.

Letting myself go.
Originally uploaded by Ruth Ruthie Ruth

Hey! I got a new bike helmet. If you can't tell, let me just say it's pretty sweet. Tim is not quite as convinced. I bought it so I could do Critical Mass today, and then bailed out cause I'm too scared to ride downtown on my bike by myself. Baby steps, baby steps.

But doesn't this look like fun? It's a scavenger type hunt in Chicago!!! It's being promoted to be "reality TV show experience." Does no one know what a scavenger hunt is? Hmmm. Troublesome.

Happy Friday! Blue skies.

Dance, bees, and pre-teens on the road to sin.

It's time to experience Chicago and get out of the apartment!

I came home from a great day at work and went running on my boulevard path (nice on the knees). But that wasn't enough!

So i went to a go-go dancing workout class tonight, and it was AWESOME. the routine started out with "shaky pee wees" (sort of a go-go version of his tequila dance) and included "freedom circles" and "the brady thumbs."

just pure happiness. and then i was driving home and almost went down a one way and this lady rolled down her window to yell "GEEZ YOU LADY WATCH WHERE YOU ARE GOING THERE ARE KIDS! THERE ARE KIDS AROUND HERE!"

i know. i was so distracted by the 13-year-old blond girl sitting on the corner poking cigarettes into her mouth that i turned down a one way. SORRY. I know the 10 miles an hour i was going was extremely dangerous to the number of drags that preteen was able to inhale, which will directly effect her popularity with the boys. Keep yelling lady, just keep yelling. GEEZ.

also, tim's dad was featured on his local news because about 2,000 bees swarmed outside his eye clinic in Wisconsin. Quote from the interview? "I love bees."

HA HA HA! Do not miss this link. It is the best example, first of all, of small business owner turning a bad situation into a good one. And, if you can believe it, Tim swears that they've had those bee glasses Doug is wearing since he was little. Funny how stuff works out like that.

My lover.

Tim and I have spent a few straight days together after being apart for four weeks. And wow. I feel like we are right back in Cincinnati when we didn't know anybody and we would try to find the nearest target and we'd end up cursing each other before stepping out of the front door. Oh, what glorious stressful times! I remember thinking "god, just GET ME OUT OF THE HOUSE." i would have joined a hippie drum circle in a public park to get away from tim during those first few weeks. But I was no angel---we are both social people that need to talk, laugh, whisper, and meddle with other people. We needed friends, okay, and substituting our spouse as the one and only person i can talk to did not benefit either of our delicate states.

And great news, we're right back there. Why? Tim has no schedule right now, and he, though he hit the big three-OH this june, is reverting back to the video game playing twelve year old we all know and love. BBbbbbaahhhhhh! Frustrating. But i know it's a stage. Right? And I have shifted into full Summer Mom Mode --- leaving notes and emails with lists of chores to do. (scratchy spinster voice) Idle hands, youngster.

At least he has driven me around so I don't have to touch a steering wheel any time soon, a goal I set after driving into Chicago. We purchased several items of furniture off of craigslist this weekend and managed to recycle/give away some cardboard boxes. Which I had to practically pry out of Tim's hands. Why? Because we're moving soon. Soon? What does soon mean? Like, five years in my mind. I also wondered if in Tim's past life, he used cardboard boxes as currency. He believes them to be irreplaceable. And precious. When I met him, he had empty cardboard fruit boxes stacked to the ceiling of his bedroom (not that I was in it!) because "they were the best moving boxes." When did he move in? Two weeks prior. But whatev. He did use them to move a year and a half later, so I really shouldn't complain.

I think my frustration has leaked out in unfair ways. Primarily, this blog as a platform for constant complaining, and also, the result of our first home home haircut session.

And I'm very sorry about it.

Favorite FHM clip ever.

I love how happy the dad is in the background. And that the baby bursts from a cupboard door on cue.

Funny Money.

Well. Timothy and I have hit a wall. And it has to do with money.

So is your husband here? Does he have a job? Does he want a job? Doing what?

These are questions my co-workers ask me daily. And the truth is, yes, he is here, so the cats are happy. No, he does not have a job, and yes, he wants one. But he really doesn't know what he will be doing.

The man has too many talents, by gum! He could teach guitar, beginner audio engineering courses, and music theory. He could play in a funk, jazz, or rock band if needed (he can sing some mad back-up vocals to "Just the Two of Us"). He could edit recordings, or be a copywriter using Finale. There are simply too many options for this man, and unfortunately they are within difficult fields to break into if you haven't attended school in Chicago. Sigh.

And the biggest issue is this: cashflow. Scratch that. The biggest problem is the difference between Tim and I's perception of cashflow.

Ruth: Long term thinker, example: eating luch out every day is a wasteful habit.
Tim: Short term thinker, example: i could eat two tacos for lunch for just $3! Come on!

See? Neither is wrong. But they are very different. Especially when they apply to the following situation:

Ruth: Let's buy a $150 buffet for our gigantic dining room, and also a box of the Nicoret Patch so you can quit smoking.
Tim: $150?! On furniture?! Don't we have plenty of cardboard boxes lying around? Those stack nicely. And Nicoret costs too much money. I might as well keep smoking until I locate that two-year-old box of Nicoret patches that my dad gave me a couple of Thanksgivings ago.

Both Liz and Kate have suggested separate bank accounts, and I think they may be onto something. Any other advice may either be appreciated or induce vomitting.

Inspiration.

Mates of State are playing a free show in Chicago during Lolla! Woo hoo! And in studying this occurance, I found their ridiculously amazing blog, Band on the Diaper Run. My sister-in-law and I have been discussing how "fun" babies are but are soooo not ready to have them. But this blog makes it seem like this family has it all:family time, grandparents who take care of the kids, and infants on tour.

Seriously, great site for parents who travel, need to protect their children's ears without visiting shooting range gift shops, and also links to great kid's shows like Yo Gabba Gabba, which is pretty much a combination of Sesemee Street and a weekend at Ralph's Corner Bar. Sigh.

Who knew my past and future would collide?

Furniture.

Tim is home. Graduation is over.

Now it's time to deck out the new apartment. Tim seems okay with two card tables for desks, but I think it's a waste of space. Space where you could organize and stick music books and folders, instead of piling them on top of each other. I'll post some pics of the place soon, or maybe a movie.

But what about desk made of this?

Hmmmm.

Also. I have a new love for craigslist. And it WILL give me a buffet for my dining room soon, I can feel it. But first I have to figure out how to move large boxes of wood with a 92 A4 Audi. Bunji cables? Twine? Magic, ah yes, magic will do the trick.

Perhaps you didn't know this about me.

I have a chipped front tooth.

It happened the weekend before my high school graduation. I was drinking out of a glass bottle (I'll let you cast some judgement here) when my boyfriend at the time for some reason slapped the bottom of the bottle with his hand, causing it to implode upon my right front tooth. Chip chip chipperoo. Embarrassing.

Of course, the dentist fixed it. But less than a year later, I was working for a cd/headshop in Moorhead, Minnesota. I should say right away, the owner of this place called it a "lifestyle" shop, and about 80% of us there were only further convinced we should never try drugs because of the idiots that came into the store and tried to impress us with stoner stories. Oh no! You dropped your $150 glass pipe in slow motion in someones garage? Darn it. Hey, here's an idea: don't waste $150 on a pipe. Just a thought.

Anyway, the owner, a man whose stature reminds me of NSYNC's manager now serving jail time, planted rumors amongst the employees that he could tune into the store cameras from his home. And there were also tales of the cameras following a select number of female employees through the stores (not me) in a voyeuristic fashion.

So one day I was moving through the stores, and the cameras started following me. I moved one way, and heard the little camera turn, the other way, another way, ooooooh creepy. My co-worker, Brad, joins me after enjoying his lunch in the break room and I fill him in on the ideas surfacing in my young female mind.

Mmhmm. Nah, REALLY? OH MY GOD. says Brad. Then I realize that the cameras in the store are all controlled from the break room. Ha ha, very funny Brad, I say. And Brad swells with pride, thinks he's pretty funny. So I decide that a trick is in store for him. From who? Direct from RUTH. R. U. T. H.

A month later, I am enjoying some very hard mints at work, and I chomp down and my tooth filling comes out. Embarrassing? Yes. But I get a great idea.

Brad comes in for work.

BRAD! BRAD! Check out my tooth.

Whoa. Says Brad. What happened? Well, I say, you know those thick glass hookahs we have in the back room? This guy wanted to see one, so I took it off the shelf and put it on the glass counter. Then I don't know what happened, I was going to pick it up to put it back, the guy was reaching for it at the same time, neither of us realized that the other one was going for it, and BLAMMO! The guy knocked the top of the hookah into my mouth! And it chipped my tooth! What am I going to DO?

WHOA. says Brad. Are you going make the owner pay for it? I mean...wow. I just. I don't know. WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO?





And then Ruth laughs. Sucker. Ha ha. Jokes on YOU, Brad, even though, in the end, I am the one with the chipped tooth. And (full circle here) I just took a beer out of the fridge and was walking to the trash to throw away the bottle cap, and it's been a long day, okay? Like, 12 hour day. And I was a little too eager to get that beer in my belly and walk at the same time and...and I think I took a little bit of that post-hookah/mint experience filling off of my tooth. I'm too scared to look.

Damn you, Brad. Did I mention that now he's an middle school English teacher and mushes? Dogs. Mushes dogs.

Email to Kate.

hey kate!

we haven't spoken since that fateful bus ride back to Cincinnati a couple weeks ago now, so it's time for an update.

Update:

Moving. So many "fun" things happened here. U-haul tried to give us a 26 foot truck (which i would be driving through Cincinnati and Chicago) instead of the 17 foot one we had reserved. This was at 8 a.m. in the morning, and i was literally yelling at tim in the u-haul parking lot: "WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO? I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO!" why, why was i yelling? because i didn't realize just how long 26 feet was. it was about the size of a RV camper crossed with an elephant. like, i didn't even want to climb into the drivers seat. in the end, tim had to stare down the u-haul guy and finally he was like, "um, well, i do have a 17 foot truck on the lot i guess you can have." oh, well THANK YOU. and while tim handled all the machismo stuff, i think my desperate screams helped somewhat.

Second: three friends helped us move and it was AWESOME. we never could have done it without them. so i took them out for indian food after we all enjoyed cool showers.

Third:...oh this is fun. I got up at 6:30 a.m. to leave town, and the driver's side mirror on the truck was unable to hold itself up. so before i hit indianapolis, i bought a role of duct tape and plastered that thing together. After hitting about 20 consecutive bumps anywhere on my drive that day, i would have to role down the window and punch the mirror on the top so it would angle the right direction, but all in all i felt much more safe.

Fourth: then i got through indianapolis and stopped for gas. Sure, hmm...it's raining, i'll just hop out, use my atm card...hmmm...where is that atm card...and where is my license....oh. no. they were both back in cincinnati, resting in my camera case which i had forgotten. Thankfully, i had taken out $150 cash to pay the movers with, and that got me through.

Five: CATS! Basically, the cats were pretty awesome and i was pretty thankful for the company. A little yowling was okay. I got lost on a detour and ended up driving through some suburbs and sneaking through the city limits without paying tolls. Fun! Although it took two hours. Whatev. Finally got to Chicago, made it through several storms and about 20 lane changes, and parked right in front of my new living quarters. The movers (Bob's Muscle for Hire) showed up about 30 minutes later and I helped them unload the whole truck in under 2 hours. They commended tim's packing skills with the truck. Everything got in, nothing was broken, and they took a personal check! Amazing!

Sixth: I started to sort stuff out, and found out that because so many people had moved to Chicago that weekend, every U-Haul place in the city was full. They absolutely could NOT take my truck. So I parked it down the street and when I returned it the next day, I totally forgot about filling the gas tank, but it was a $40 charge and the gas itself would have been the same, so i'm okay. My friend Mai took me to the bank and the grocery store, and then Mai and Kaye helped me put my bed together. Oh, sweet sleep!

Siete: That weekend of moving was followed by VERY LONG work hours, those extended into the weekend. It was alumni weekend, the reason i had started early in the first place! Yay! Everything went pretty well on Friday until I got home around 10 p.m.

I called Kaye and we decided to meet outside the el/subway stop in our neighborhood and get some mexican food. I waited there for a while, and eventually got to witness a woman urinating at the top of the subway escalator. I always wondered what state people had to be in to urinate in public places, and now i know. Did i mention i was writing Jo Ann (mother-in-law) an email on my blackberry while this was happening? I was like, yep, Tim's 30, you're coming down for graduation---OH MY GOD THERE IS A WOMAN URINATING RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. She wrote back "That's disgusting! Do you feel safe?" Jo Ann cares for my safety and understands, as most people do, that public urination is not good omen.

Ocho: Anyway, once we got food I was exhausted and my contacts and feet hurt, and i was like, i'm going home! oh wait. my keys. my key my keys...oh bugger. They are TOTALLY at my office in downtown Chicago. I left them there. I am stupid. So Kaye and i decided to try to break in to my new apartment. The easiest (and only) way to do this would be to check and see if i had left the windows on my back deck open. However, the deck had been scheduled to be ripped down that very same day! Isn't my luck amazing? So we went to see if the deck even existed. And in fact it did---all the way up to my second floor door. But without any railings. Just a little platform. So that was scary. And the windows were locked. Damn me and my big city fears!

Nueve: I ended up spending the night with Mai and Kaye and spent four hours on public transit that morning before I finally arrived at alumni weekend in south chicago, showered, dressed, and with cats fed and watered at home.




That is the end of this tale. But isn't it an eventful one? I will be going back to Cincinnati to graduate on Thursday, and mom and dad and Scottie and Liz are all visiting this week, plus in laws meeting us in Cinci! I am so happy the worst is over. Goodbye, worst. Don't let the door hit ya where the good lord split ya.

Forever.

Parents are coming to town.

What to do on Saturday night? Probably this.

Cheerio! Sorry no posts for a week or more---still moving in and accessing internet. Also, getting lots of curtain rods that are the wrong size for my windows. Oopsies.

P.S. Tim told me he wants to quite smoking when he comes to Chicago. Good thing, cause I calculated his average of four packs a day at Chicago cigarette prices. It's about $125 a month. We could afford a new Wii game every month instead!

I miss music.

I'm so excited to be done with school and sitting in an apartment with recording capabilities and a husband that always gets this giddy grin on his face when i say anything about playing music and looks at me like my two-year-nephew when he's about to do something he knows he shouldn't but wants your attention for it anyway: "should we get guitarmeggedon back together? should we do it?"

weird. i had to twist both of tim's arms to get him to play with me in fargo. but apparently he also needs an outlet.

so i'm thinking about writing music again. which means i need to listen to a lot more music. and our good friend paul left cincinnati today for nashville and has officially become comfortable with the title of "composer." so for him, and myself, here are my five rules of for writing pop music.

1. lyrics: stop using"I" and use "you." when people listen, it's like you're singing from their point of view. i remember listening to the pixies and realizing that the reason all my songs sounded like a angry teenage girl was because i was an angry teenage girl. in guitarmeggedon, i started writing about everyone else except me, and that worked pretty well.


2. form: expand the a/b/a/b/c/b pop song formula. fiona apple. always does this. and it is so great. can't embed this video, but it's one of those few pop songs that might become a jazz standard.

3. hook: combing the rhythm of lyrics and the movement of a melody will create a good pop hook. musical theatre lives off this rule.


4. dynamics: Loud soft loud soft. rock band rule. but it extremely effective. (ignore the star wars images. this was best recording i could find)


5. rhythm: the last one...is more of an opinion than a rule: anyone can write a sad slow song. the most difficult songs to write are the ones that make people get out of their chairs. there are so many songs that exemplify this, but i'll choose just one for you. it's not too fast, but it makes you want to MOVE. to the BEAT.


and one more rule from Dr. Gwiazda. he stood in front of our third year theory class and tempted us.
"do you want to know the secret to writing all good songs? you'll be able to use it over and over. it's the secret that will make you millions of dollars."

yes! we all cried inside our tiny heads.

"take something. play it. then change it. then change it a little more. then change it a little more."

at the time, i was all WTF. But now i get it. Back to the piano!