As a frigid north wind battered the edges of our winter coats, Annie and I carefully chose our footing across the clods of frozen dirt and stalks of forgotten corn silage in the field that lay south of my opa's rural farmhouse. The sun shone brightly on the snow, eluding to warmth that was nowhere to be found. Reaching the bottom of the hill, we followed the edge of the field, past the derelict barn that had been neglected and in decay since I was a child, and on to the creek that lay below. Drawing closer to the trickling water in its frozen bed, Annie and I noticed that we were not the only ones looking to navigate the water at this crossing. several tracks of forked prints revealed the recent presence of turkeys in the fresh snow. The cloven prints of a deer could be seen a little further on. Raccoon prints abounded, their articulate fingers making soft indentations around the running water. A little further on, a marking that I first thought to be a coyote revealed itself to likely be a bobcat, as the prints looked more feline than canine. Annie and I paused a moment, taking in all the traffic that had evidently commuted through this crossing since the snow had fallen the night before. The scene must have been breathtaking.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Friday, January 27, 2012
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Last night, Annie and I went to dinner and the movies with some friends. Dinner was delicious and the movie was mildy entertaining. As we left the film, Ben and I discussed the strengths and failings of the production. We went back and forth on the technical elements, the dialogue, and the development of the characters. As we continued down the hallway of the cineplex, I paused to use the bathroom.
at 12:37 PM
Friday, January 20, 2012
Last night, Annie and I went into the city to see Come Fly Away, a musical set to the music of Frank Sinatra. I will admit that I did no research into this production, but was excited, as I am a big fan of "Ol' Blue Eyes". So when the musical was bereft of any dialogue, and consisted solely of a hot brass band and fourteen incredibly talented dancers, I was not as dissappointed as the gentleman behind me who, two numbers in, audibly scoffed, "Well, this sucks!" and walked out.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Last week I heard an interview with Walter Isaacson, the author of the recently published biography of Apple poster boy, Steve Jobs. The anecdotes that Isaacson shared of Jobs' quirks and philosophies were truly fascinating. I especially appreciated the refutations the biographer provided when faced with the scathing arguments that the turtlenecked CEO was no more than a tinkerer who only improved upon existing technologies. He was not dismissive of the assertions. He merely offered a defense that, sadly, Jobs can no longer send up himself.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
I work in sales.
I think I have discussed the slightly pathetic ramifications of my insignificant role at a major telecommunications provider in previous essays, but in case it was not well known, I work in business sales. I call on a panoply of industries across the Chicagoland area. My clients range from downtown Chicago consulting firms who peer down on the world from steel girded high rises and demand three piece suits and flashy gadgets all the way to blue collar trucking companies who operate out of cigarette-smoke engulfed trailers on the south side, nestled under the jet fumes of Midway airport.
Sunday, January 8, 2012
After a few weeks of boxing, I still hurt every time I leave the gym. My arms feel like jelly, my entire midsection is as one giant hunk of tenderized meat. But each time I strap on the gloves and start throwing jabs and crosses, I forget about the pain as I learn a little more about this age-old sport.
Not everyone at the gym is swinging for the golden glove (Lord knows I'm not). There are several types of people with whom I have shared a class. Here is a brief cross-section of the a few of the athletes:
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
With all the political hullabaloo dancing across the airwaves like sparks from a downed power line, I've been thinking a great deal about how the past affects who a person becomes. For every jump in popularity this political season, another skeleton emerges to wreak havoc on the career of a Presidential hopeful.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Tonight is the political zenith of the Hawkeye state's political influence in the 2012 Presidential race. In a few short weeks, the temporary campaign headquarters will be once again vacant, the 99 county tours will be history, and the television smear campaigns will be bad memories. But for one night, this beleaguered little state will mean acceleration or demise for the Presidential hopefuls of the Grand Ol' Party.
at 12:50 PM