The Sweatshop of Lovers Blog

I’ve been sitting here for 20 minutes trying not to be excited. Last time I was on the verge of being this excited was last spring when the Tigers got Miguel Cabrera and I was texting everyone about how the Tigers are the best team in baseball and dancing in front of everyone singing, ‘y’all gonna SUCK!’ Then the season started very badly and people were comparing Cabrera to Jar Jar Binks (fat, worthless, and overpaid being the key points), and I couldn’t go a game that first month without getting a text like, ‘hey bitch, what you want?’

So, I was staring at my computer screen blankly, alternating thoughts between, ‘WASHBURN WASHBURN WASHBURN WASHBURN WASHBURN WASHBURN WASHBURN’, and ‘Find a problem, find a problem, find a problem, find a problem’, when I got an email update from the Tigers with this picture in it.

This is Jarrod Washburn, a very good pitcher who will now be playing for the Tigers, which is a big deal.

But really? You are going to send this picture out to all your fans like, hey! look what we just bought! Look at his face. And I wish my boobs looked like that in a jersey; I would never take it off. And there is something seriously wrong with his elbow.

So, he is just a dude. A very talented dude who I want to kiss a lot because the thought of a series against any team with a Verlander, Jackson, WASHBURN lineup makes me want to cry tears of joy.

JOY! SUCK IT BITCHES!

But he isn’t very photogenic. And that is a problem. He has to work on that.

Don’t you hate when you run out of bread? I make my own bread so you would think this would happen to me rarely, but last night I found myself with a mad cheese craving and no bread.

So I threw some ingredients in the bread maker, and 3 hours and 20 minutes later I knew I would have some delicious honey grain bread. Until then, I needed cheese in meal form, which is hard to come by with no bread.

Cheese and crackers really isn’t a meal; I could have cooked up some cheesy pasta but I wasn’t really feeling that, either. What I wanted was a fatty grilled cheese sandwich with some fancy Dubliner cheese.

Mini Sammys

Then I remembered the bag of frozen English muffins in the fridge that PT and I made ages ago that I always forget about. I dug out four plain ones (cheese and cinnamon raisin English muffins didn’t sound appealing), defrosted them, covered them in butter and threw them in a hot pan. I made an only Dubliner cheese one, a Dubliner cheese and zucchini one, a Swiss, zucchini, and mushroom one, and a cheddar and mushroom one. I just kept them on there until the cheese melted, which was hard because I was really excited.

Yummy

To say these turned out well is an understatement. The mushroom and cheddar one was out of this world and I should have made another one of those. The one I was most looking forward to, the just Dubliner cheese one, was my least favorite. STILL amazing, but, after eating the rest of them with the veggies cooked perfectly in the melty cheese! It just didn’t have enough going on.

Seriously.

I was thinking about how much work making those English muffins was, and it was a lot of work. An entire afternoon’s worth of rising and kneading and cutting and rising and babysitting and frying and cooling and dusting. But I would make them again just so I could have these sandwiches at my disposal always. It just wouldn’t be the same, I don’t think, cutting up regular bread into little squares and making them that way.

Sammy

Then I went to Margie’s with Sam, who’s place of employment just went under. Confused about the future? Feeling like no one will ever love you? Go to Margie’s Candies!

I tried to convince Sam to start a blog about all the internet dating he does, but separated into two identities: Douche Sam, who takes out Wrigley sluts, and Regular Sam, who takes out the nice, literary types. It would be hilarious! For me. It would totally be optioned into a movie or an HBO series.

(If you are looking for a nice boyfriend with a nice dog, also named Sammy, and you don’t have a peg leg, email me and Sam will be your boyfriend)

I got the turtle sundae that I ate too fast to take a picture of. It came, I inhaled it, I gave the rest of my hot fudge to Sam so he could mix it in his cookies and cream shake.

‘This is going to hurt later,’ Sam said.

‘I’m counting on it.’

And it did.

Last Bounty

Since PT and I broke up and I can’t afford to keep getting the produce boxes from Newleaf by myself, this is the last box. Just to torture me further this had to be the best box yet:

Blueberries, oranges, apples, broccoli, zucchini, and bananas are some of my favorite things in life. I have no idea what those green pointy things are on the right there. Ideas? Help? Please! And more kale and a head of lettuce, I think. Sigh. I’ll miss it. And Pudge Rodriguez will miss it, too.

So, I can cook, right? I throw things together and it normally turns out.

Omelet? Kinda?

... Maybe?

Not the case with omelets. I love omelets and make them pretty often. 9 times out of 10 they look like this. My problem is that I want to put too many things in them and then they fall apart because there isn’t enough egg. This ‘omelet’ had broccoli, zucchini, mushrooms, tomato, and corn in it, with some cheddar sprinkled on top. It’s just too much stuff for 3 eggs.

Despite how it looked, though, it was really good. I had completely forgotten I had eggs. That is the one complaint I will make about the produce box; I felt like I never knew what I had in my fridge. I opened my crisper drawer last night and had to do a clean sweep (never got to the cilantro from a few weeks back – that was ugly). When you forget you have entire pineapple in your fridge, you have lost control. Three produce boxes a month, instead of four, would have set me up for life. If I cared enough about money to actually make it.

Sock #1 Done

So Pretty!

Something I do care about making? Socks. I finished one of these cute socks yesterday. It was kind of bitter sweet, actually. When I started it PT and I were still kinda together. It was my comfort sock, my no brainer pattern I was sadly knitting in the quiet.

Does that happen to you? You remember what you were doing or going through when you were knitting a project much much later when you pull that project out? I’ve always done that. I have a piece of pottery I made in high school the week George Harrison died, and I remember that when I see it. I have a shawl I was working on when I moved to college that I remember working on in the room I grew up in that doesn’t exist anymore.

Two-Texture Mittens

So, I started these last night. I’ve had these mittens in my head for a while; I am almost done with the outline for my pattern/recipe book and these are in there. I just need a pattern for them! I always forget how much time you have on your hands after a break up. Time to be ultra productive. Half a two-texture-mitten-in-one-night productive.

I left out the thumb, changing from knitting in the round on the double pointed needles to back and forth for the size of my thumb. I’m going to go back and pick those stitches up later with the cream yarn. I know, I know. Genius!

… and I’ll probably have it done tonight.

I walk around a lot. When I’m not walking around I’m biking around. Both modes of transportation allow me to see things that I wouldn’t normally see, like baby birds learning to fly, and flowers blowing in the breeze, and storefronts that can’t possibly do what they say they are doing. A famous example is the Honey Bear Ham Company on Grand that has boxes stacked in it’s windows, is never open, and never smells like ham. And could their website be any creepier? Drug cover!

Blitz Restaurant & Bar

About a month ago PT and I noticed this gem at the end of Mozart at Armitage. Sure, they hired the worst graphic designer in all of Chicago, but it is always nice to have new restaurants around. Upon googling, all we could find is a notification of business license, food license, and liquor license. No website, no information. Not even a myspace!

I’ve been watching it closely. The inside appears finished; bar stools and tables. There are always 1 or 2 dudes sitting around watching euro-trash music videos on TV.

My theory is that some Czech drug lords decided to set up shop in Logan Square under the cover of their perception of what an American Sports Bar is. They google image searched ‘American sport’, printed off some pictures, taped them together, and with the help of Microsoft Paint worked out a lighting bolt logo and the font used on a 3rd grade boy’s birthday party invitations.

In The Window...

Last week they had a big sign over their doors that said, “Grand Opening: DATE”, like they bought a Grand Opening sign that had a removable slot where you put the date of your grand opening in, but they didn’t, they just left it saying DATE. It is gone now.

Today I noticed that they had new signage taped to the doors. After catching my breath from my sprint down the street to get a closer look, I was not disappointed.

Sure, those darn kids tried to peel the sign down, but you can still read: “Casual Atmosphere, American Food, DJ’s, Big Screen TVs, Lounge, Private Parties.”

Then the pictures of the bar that isn’t opened yet? Separated by their lightning bolt logo.

So, you are European. What do Americans like? Wearing jeans and backwards caps (casual atmosphere- check), American food (check), big TVs (check), and to not hang out with outsiders and minorities (private parties – check). But you are still European so you are going to need DJs and techno party lights (see picture).

Menu

'American' Food

And they had their menu up! So, stick with me here, you are still a European. What do Americans like to eat? Put bacon on everything! And they love bagels, so make a bagel sandwich for sure.

Crab cakes and spaghetti? Those are normal American bar food appetizers, right?

I love the combo platter: wings, skins, rings, tenders, and carrot Stick’s. Make sure Stick is capitalized and ‘s-ed! They really had me sold on that before the carrot Stick’s.

You know what I’m getting at. If this place ever opens I’m holding a huge Sweatshop party there where we will watch sports while having a euro-trash dance party to Kylie. With wings. And carrot Stick’s.

I remember watching Amelie for the first time. I was a freshmen at Adrian College and it was like, foreign film week maybe? Adrian has less than 1,000 students total, it’s in the middle of nowhere south eastern Michigan, so foreign film week consisted of the hot, long haired foreign language teacher setting up a projector in a normal sized class room and showing movies to the 5 – 10 interested students.

We went because Amelie got a very good recommendation from Chelsea, who grew up in Royal Oak, where they get foreign films in their movie theaters. We all psychotically loved it, of course, but I remember thinking how weird it was that she made these elaborate meals for herself. She lived alone and would always be cooking or baking away. At the time I was eating cookies for lunch and fries for dinner and living in a dorm room, so the idea of cooking anything was pretty foreign to me.

Dinner for One

Saturday night I found myself sauteing fresh zucchini, broccoli, and mushrooms in olive oil and garlic, adding half a can of diced tomatoes and a tablespoon of tomato paste. I cooked and drained the whole wheat pasta and threw it in with the vegetables. I finished it with red pepper flakes and fresh cracked pepper. After I plated it I grated some parmesan on top. I walked back to my bed, unpaused Felicity, and ate it alone. It was amazing. The zucchini was perfectly cooked, the mushrooms were super meaty and the broccoli tops soaked up the tomato sauce and garlic.

I care about myself, so I cook for myself. I love cooking, so I cook for myself. I don’t need an audience.

In one of the last scenes, though, Amelie is baking herself a plum cake, I think, and she is out of baking soda, maybe? So she imagines that cute boy from the train stations stopping on his way home to pick some up for her. And she imagines him sneaking into her house to surprise her with it, and he makes a little noise to let her know he is there, but it turns out to be the cat making the noise, and she is all alone, with no baking soda.

That happens, too.

Or you make yourself an entire pan of brownies and eat them all with your hands while watching Amelie, saying over and over, ‘Without you, today’s emotions would be the scurf of yesterday’s', and ‘these are tough times for dreamers’, until you wake up the next morning covered in brownie drool.

People tell me I look like her sometimes.

Audrey

Me

It is easily my favorite compliment, and maybe we have similar eyes and eyebrows? Cheeks? Dimple, sure, but I’m pretty sure that is where the similarity ends.

That, and cooking. Because, obviously, Audrey is like Amelie pre-cute boy. Also, pre-The DaVinci Code. I’m sure she pretends, like I do, that that never happened.

Whenever I leave Chicago it becomes very very evident exactly how big a hipster I am. I’m such a standard order hipster in this city that I don’t even notice. (You know, thrift store/handmade clothes, pixie hair cut, affinity for sad bastard music, over-arty education, vegetarian. Bike user. Poor. Arty job… that might be it.)

But, eventually you have to leave Chicago and notice everyone else wears pants that no one else has ever owned. Everyone wears the same pair, actually. And the same tshirts that tell people which stores they bought the tshirts from (again, first owner). And it’s weird that I wear green jeans and a shirt I made out of a pillowcase.

I’m icing my shin right now because I tried to jump the Detroit People Mover turnstile post double header last night and failed. It hurts, and it hurt a lot when it happened but no one knew because when you get hit by a pitch you can’t rub it. You smile because you got a base, and you can ice it later.

Where, Exactly?

Normal: $9.50 half price Monday WAY upper reserved/bleacher seats where Bobby Jenks doesn’t look ogre-sized.

Not Normal: Starting the day in a fancy private bar INSIDE Comerica Park where the people buy better seats than I’ve ever dreamed of but don’t sit in them because they sit in the air conditioned bar, watching a game happening 100 feet away on TVs the size of my apartment. Brought to you by…

The Republican

He pays that light to follow him around.

Three Loves

I haven’t been to Detroit in 6 years. I haven’t been to Comerica Park since it opened. I think I giggled for 20 minutes straight, starting the moment I saw it for the first time and ending when The Republican hit me in the face. He is allergic to giggles.

It was the perfect day! It was sunny and warm with a breeze. It was the day you picture when you think about going to a baseball game.

Even The Republican, once or twice, stopped with the blackberry and made inaccurate statements!

“We are going to get swept today.” (WE swept THEM)

“Bonine is going to get lit up today.” (6 innings, 3 ER, 4 K)

“Dusty Ryan makes me miss Dane Sardinha.” (CLOSE (Dane is B.A.D.), but he did hit pivotal RBI single in game 2)

“It’s hot.” (It was 79)

In a Nutshell

I had a great time! It was my second double header of the season, which I didn’t even think was possible. The Tigers rocked it out and won both games and I didn’t get sunburned or killed! My shin is purple, but in a cute way, and numb right now so I don’t even really mind that it is twice the size of my other leg.

Detroit, though, down by the park, is like Wrigley meets the Gold Coast, with fat people. And Pabst was $3! What respectable hipster would pay $3 for a Pabst? In MICHIGAN! Where no one lives! I should have stopped trying to look cool and ordered something I could taste.

Bounty, and Pudge

Pudge Rodriguez was all up in my grill yesterday. Here she is sniffing some kale, which is quickly becoming her favorite green, and that is saying a lot since this cat can’t get enough vegetables. Or bread. Or cheese. Or anything spilled on the table. Or anywhere.

The Newleaf bounty included lettuce, kale, half a pineapple (though I haven’t even cut into the last one), three tomatoes, an apple, a mango, more blueberries, mushrooms, and an onion knob.

Zucchini and Kale Pasta

Zucchini of my Heart

I made zucchini and kale pasta with tomatoes, onion, and garlic sauce, with parm on top for dinner. I think I’m officially done buying pasta sauce! It is easy to saute up some onions, garlic, diced tomatoes and a little tomato paste while the pasta is cooking. Just season it (crushed red pepper flakes, fennel, fresh ground pepper, a tiny pinch of salt), and you are good to go. The zucchini is perfect right now, which is kind of a shame because…

I’m fleeing to Detroit for the Sox Tigers double header tomorrow! That is right, second double header of the season and it couldn’t be happening at a better time. I haven’t been to Comerica Park since it opened. And where better to mini-vaca then the saddest city in the world?

I’m going to go to game two naked so Curtis Granderson will take me home with him. Game one naked? Very unpleasant sunburn AND I wouldn’t get to see game two. That is called planning! And I’ll get to go stay with Mama and Papa Granderson on the south side whenever I want. Win. Win.

Be back Saturday. I’ll miss you.

Finished Sock, and Pudge

I’ve had a rough weekend. I fled to Michigan where I finished these socks, which Pudge Rodriguez really likes. Actually I think they just smell like my mom’s house full of animals. So, she doesn’t like them. She is confused about how they smell. I’m often confused about how socks smell.

… what was I saying? Right; I had a rough weekend. Then I came home and PT and I broke up for realzies.

Blueberry Pancakes, and Potatoes

So we made blueberry pancakes and potatoes and onions. Because, well, you eat pancakes when you are sad. And my mom sent me home with a ton of blueberries. And blueberry pancakes are one of the best things ever. And we ate them.

Comfort Socks

Needless to say, we didn’t make it to Duck Soup. I was really bummed because I was looking forward to it. I love that movie, and I had the best time last week. But there would have been tears and crap. So I knit this sock, with the nice striping yarn, and watched the Tigers, who eked out a win for me. It’s really the least they could do.

I can’t stop knitting this sock. I’ve memorized my pattern so I’m just knitting and knitting. I’m just knitting and thinking and enjoying the quiet of the apartment. The Chicago quiet, so car alarms and people laughing and cars cars cars. If it were warmer, like it should be, there would be yelling and screaming and kids fighting in sprinklers, which I like. I miss being miserably warm.

I’m going to knit this sock some more. And make myself a dinner I will hopefully have an appetite for. I want zucchini pasta, with zucchini my mom sent me home with. The produce box just came so I can dig around in there, too.

Deep breath. Cooking for one.

Every morning I wake up to this:

Fail

Fail.

FAIL!

Seriously it is a terrible thing to see every morning. Stupid Topsy Turvy, ruining my life. I’ve got a back up tomato plant that I started in an olive jar. As in, a tiny jar that had olives in it at one point, with like 2 oz of soil in it, that is doing better than this thing that is DESIGNED TO GROW TOMATO PLANTS.

At what point do I let it go? It’s dead. It’s like, really really dead. I’ve watered it. I’ve loved it. I’ve given it as much sunlight as I possibly can. And it repays me by dying two feet away from my bed.

Topsy Turvy? Epic failure.

Newleaf Natural Grocery delivered the second produce box yesterday and it was full of fun things!

Pudge is Happy

Greens, blueberries, a pineapple, cilantro, apricots, garlic, baby carrots, and, again, bananas! I was happy to see this babies.

Pudge Rodriguez was happy to see the greens. The cat loves greens. And bread. And liquid of any kind. And the blueberries she attacked after I quick put the greens away. She just basically loves people food. Whenever I’m in the kitchen she is in there with me, sniffing out what I’m making, trying to steal nibbles of whatever I’ve got out. She is growing into her name, and I’m not talking about the catcher. (FAT! SHE IS GOING TO BE FAT!)

Banananana

I promptly made myself a big bowl of blueberry and banana oats with a sprinkle of cinnamon and a handfull of Scooters, with a slice of crunchy peanut butter and banana toast.

1/3ish cup of milk, 1/2 cup oats, half a banana, a sprinkle of blueberries, cinnamon and Scooters. These blueberries are out of control and I can’t wait to make some pancakes! Muffins? Just stick my face right in the carton? There are many possibilities.

PT's Pasta Dinner

My Lunch

PT must have also been very excited about the produce box; I found this picture of his dinner from last night on the camera. Looks like chard and lots of olives and onions. I cooked up this swiss, cucumber, mustard, and lettuce sandwich on homemade bread. It was lovely. I love having so much produce around. I feel like I never need to go grocery shopping! I need to figure out what to do with all those greens, though. Lettuce wraps? No one can eat all that in salad form.

Stupid Bag

I also finished this stupid bag. I hate it. The side seams are stupid. Why would you crochet this closed? I have half a mind to pull it out and knit the whole thing again in the round but I don’t care enough. It’s a biking bag, after all. It doesn’t have to be perfect. I just get irritated when I see how lumpy the seams are.

My pin looks good on it, though! This is the first thing I’ve put that pin on that I’ve actually knitted. I have one on all my purses and bags and jackets etc etc, but I feel good that I’m finally using it for it’s purpose.

… though I don’t really want people to know I knit that since it looks like shit. Shit. I really need to hire someone to do this marketing thing for me. I seriously suck at it.