If you received this new post as an email from Marla in the Kitchen, listen to Frank Sinatra by clicking on the post title, “Three nights, three beds.” You’ll be redirected to the blog’s website where YouTube videos can be played
It was a dark and stormy night when we left our heroine tied to a moving truck, with her Sweetie far, far away. The large white truck did show up on Wednesday; three small, but wirey, Russians did move all her possessions from two storage units; the Sweetie did gallop in from Chicago on Friday night to her rescue; the happy couple did spend Saturday night in their new house, in their own bed, surrounded by boxes; they did catch the Sunday noon flight back to Chicago; she did learn how to wire transfer funds and she didn’t lock all the pertinent keys in the car. All in all, the move was a huge success.
My middle-of-the-night yips starring no-show trucks, lost keys, misplaced documents, and doors that refused to open didn’t materialize—however, the movers were two hours late and it rained off and on all day. Two of the guys spoke no English (except, “Excuse me…?”), but they set everything up, stacked all the boxes in the garage, took their shoes off every time they walked in the door, and worked politely, swiftly, and efficiently from 4:00-10:00. The move took at least twice as long as I thought it would, cost twice as much as I thought it would, and was more difficult than I imagined. As I said in July, if you’re thinking of moving, reconsider.
Chicago is a hoot: deep dish pizza or hot dogs tonight at the Hotel Allerton’s Tip Top Tap at the Sweetie’s meet and mingle, so all’s well that ends well.
The Tip Top Tap in the 100 year-old Allerton Hotel
Bloomingdales’s on Michigan Ave
La Salle Street, River North
Thought I would add a short Chicago feature, “You had to be there.”
Honking does not necessarily result in forward motion: a fortyish woman walks across the street, struggling with a large box, her carry-all purse slipping off her shoulder. She steps up her pace to cross before the walking-man light turns into the orange hand. A long, impatient honk blatts from behind the privacy windows of an imposing, black SUV. Fortyish woman stops in the middle of the street, puts the box down, adjusts her purse, turns around, hands-on-her-hips, to face the SUV, and says, “Really?”
Chicago-style hot dog, “dragged through the garden”
- all-beef hot dog
- 1 poppyseed hot dog bun
- 1 tablespoon yellow mustard
- 1 tablespoon sweet green (bright green, if possible) pickle relish
- 1 tablespoon chopped onion
- chopped tomato
- 1 dill pickle spear
- 2 sport peppers
- celery salt
Place hot dog in the steamed bun. Pile on the toppings in this order: yellow mustard, sweet green pickle relish, onion, chopped tomato, pickle spear, sport peppers, and celery salt. The tomatoes should be nestled between the hot dog and the top of the bun. Place the pickle between the hot dog and the bottom of the bun. Shake celery salt over everything. Don’t even think about using ketchup.
BTW, not only is winter right around the corner, tomorrow is the end of daylight savings time. As a New Yorker piece said, “At 2:01 on the first Sunday in November, the clock is turned back an hour; in an instant, “now” becomes “then”, and we live sixty minutes all over again.”