Adventures in Unemployment Numero Dos

I left the house around 12:08pm for my interview with Kaplan U., which left ample time to arrive at 550 W. Van Buren by 1:20pm (25 minutes early) after one train and a bus transfer. What I didn't plan for was the excruciating pain my $15 sale price Nine West cherry red stiletto pumps (on the clearance rack at Burlington Coat Factory) would cause me for the 5 long Chicago blocks of walking to the green line train station. I debated turning back to the apartment to roll my dress pants up and grab some sneakers, but I was too worried about being late for the train. Minutes flew by and the street signs seemed to change slower than ever. My shoes, pinching my feet into tightly bound triangle shapes imprinting my heels and toe beds, turning my legs into rickety stilts barely balancing the rest of my body. I finally arrive at the green line, clenching the railing of the slippery looking steps up to the platform. Crap. I missed the train toward Cottage Grove, so I get on the one toward Ashland. I check my mapped transit instructions to make sure I get off at the correct stop. For the first time, I'm in too much pain to care about pulling out my ipod or a book (as I usually do, to make it look like I know what I'm doing). I listen to the girl sitting behind me, who seems to be explaining what bus to take to her friend on the other end of the line. Her friend doesn't seem to be competent. The girl gets irate, tells her friend she doesn't give a shit how she gets there, and doesn't want to hear her bitching when she complains about the long route she decided to take against her advice. I laugh, wish I could be more like that girl, putting my two cents in, copping an attitude when someone really frustrates me instead of being patient and attentive. I get off at Madison and  Wabash, searching for the correctly numbered bus stop, 60, the blue toward Cicero. It's pulling away as I walk up to the stop. I pretend not to be phased, read the bus sign to see if it says how often #60 stops there, it says daily, so I figure it couldn't be more than a 15 minute wait. Two latino men wait with me, I hear them conversing in Spanish, and long to ask them what time it is. I know exactly how I'd say it . . . "perdon. que hora es . . ." even though I could just check my cell phone in my purse instead. I check my phone, it's only 1:00pm, which leaves still, plenty of time to get to West Van Buren. The bus arrives, I climb abroad and sit with my feet dangling (even with the heels) on an aisle seat. I pull out the trail mix from my purse and dive in, in order to stave off any hunger that might occur when I need to be concentrating on the interview. It's my first time trying to properly use the bus, so I watch how people board, and how they depart. Ah! The marquee by the front of the bus tells the passengers where the next stop is! What a revelation. I sit back a little more comfortably, and watch the stop go by until the bus turns onto Clinton. I squint at the upcoming street signs, anticipating the moment that I get to pull the chord and make the dinging noise (such a nerd). I see Van Buren approaching, and just as I'm reaching for the chord, another passenger makes the ding. Ah poop. I get up and prepare to exit at the back door, but change my mind when the bus door opens and a giant puddle 2 feet wide (and who knows how deep) awaits me at the bottom of the step. I get off at the front of the bus, and lo and behold, the stop is at exactly 550 West Van Buren, my destination. I check my phone . . . only 1:15 . . . 30 more minutes until everybody is supposed to meet in front of the starbucks in the building lobby. I begrudgingly walk into the starbucks, and order a double shot americano, sit at a table, eat some more trail mix, and read the book I bought a few weeks ago at a garage sale. I survey the people coming in and out, trying to pick out which others are there for the group meeting, and how many others there actually will be at the meeting. I finish the coffee, and head to the bathroom for one last pit stop, but there's someone in the one-stalled room so I just head out to the lobby. I walk toward the large group of young people that seems to be forming off to the right of the front doors. I ask them if they're here for the interview with Kaplan, they all smile and laugh. Every body else including me seems to be early for the meeting. We all introduce ourselves to one another, and I can see that everyone is well spoken and competent. How refreshing to be around talented young people! The representative from LaSalle Agency arrives, and we all sign in and head upstairs. We're lead to the 7th floor, and then down a floor and another hallway to the meeting room. The Kaplan people appear friendly, funny, and smart, putting everybody at ease during the meeting. I'm surrounded by perfectionists, academics, and diversely intelligent kids my age. The company and the position being offered still seem too good to be true. The questions and answers are over pretty quickly (which is kind of disappointing, considering the relief the comfy swivel chairs have brought to my feet and legs). We all shake hands and wish each other luck. Another girl and I walk to the Clinton Blue Line together, she's the theater major from Skokie. I actually ended up pointing her in the right direction to meet the transfer for the red line, who knew that I could actually help somebody go the right way on the train? She gets off at State, so I pop my headphones in, turn my ipod on, and wait for Clark, people watching with ease now that the tensions of reaching a destination on time has diminished. Oh how I love the elevated stairways with escalators leading up to the green line platform (and so do my feet). I wait up on the platform, contemplating how much longer I can balance on my stilts, or whether I can make the looooong 5 blocks home from the train stop at Harlem. The smells of Mickey's Gyro and Ribs on Harlem Ave. are stronger than ever when you walk by there slow enough to realize how delicious it must be in there. 15 minutes after leaving the platform at Harlem I make it home, ripping off those red pumps the minute I walk into the kitchen. I wipe the cut out (yes, the cut is from the shoes) on my heel, and search for a band-aid in all of my empty duffel bags in the closet. I'm definitely hemming those damned dress pants, and never wearing shoes over an inch high (if I have to walk more than a block) ever again.

Just my luck . . .

So today I shed my typical attire, buttoned up a clean, freshly ironed polka dot dress shirt, zipped up a black knee length skirt, covered up my arm tattoos with a black cardigan, and completed the ensemble with some flat silver dress shoes for my big-girl job interview off  of LaSalle Street in downtown. The morning was off to a good start, I made the train departure from Harlem Avenue, with plenty of empty seats (since Harlem is thankfully the starting point of the CTA green line). Some overly soap/hair gel smelling baby blue polo shirt takes a seat next to me, and opens up his Chicago Reader. I stare blankly at the woman in front of me, tempted to tuck her shirt tag in, wondering whether or not I lint rolled all of the dog hair off of the back of my cardigan. The train ride goes by pretty quickly, courtesy of tuning out with my ipod, but I'm sad to leave the huge crowd of people on the train, because they remind me that I'm not alone here. I trek down the stairs, off of the platform, and down to the street, until of course I realize I'm walking in the wrong direction, and casually turn a corner to backtrack. I walk past business suits, bike messengers, and homeless beggars, until I feel a tinge of pain on the toe of my right foot. I wince, and have to stop to take my shoe off and survey the contents. There seems to be nothing there, so I slide my shoe back on, and continue my search for 200 North LaSalle. Excited to have found LaSalle, I feel moisture building up in my right shoe, assuming it's just sweat or maybe some water. I'm sadly mistaken, the moisture feels warm, and I know it is blood. Now I have to go the bathroom, and I'm really really eager to take a good look at my foot, but I don't want to be late for the interview. I'm in the building, signing in, and up the elevator, to the wrong floor of course. I properly locate the office on the 24th (not 26th) floor, and proceed to sign in. While I'm waiting I look down to see blood beginning to seep in between the toe cleavage area of my silver dress shoe, and decide to tuck that foot under the chair. Finally I'm asked to go in to another room to fill out some questions and paperwork, and I ask where I can find the bathroom. The smartly dressed man from the front desk comes in with the key for and directions to the bathroom down the hall. I hurry to finish the paperwork, hand it in at the front desk, and scurry down to the bathroom. The key doesn't work at first, but I keep trying until the stubborn thing finally pries open. I sit on the commode in relief, removing my shoe to check out the damage. Yup, there's a puncture hole on the end of my big toe, and a puddle of blood in the foot of my shoe. I wipe it clean with some toilet paper, flush, wash up, and head back to the front office. I am then interviewed by a project manager, and then lead to another room to take some computer proficiency tests. The tests aren't as easy as I thought that they would be; there's no shortcutting commands allowed, and the typing tests do not allow deleting letters or mistakes, so I get a little frustrated. Even though it takes me a long time to complete the tests, I'm pretty satisfied with the results, and I return to the waiting room when I'm done. I then fill out tax paperwork, only to find out that I cannot be placed with any company until I present the company with two forms of government I.D. (all I have is my driver's license, everything else is in Pittsburgh) in order to complete the I-9 form. Crap. I have to come back here to fill that out. Crap, I just spent two and half hours of my morning sitting in this office, and I still have to come back. At least next time I'll know which way to walk, and what shoes not to wear.

Everybody Has a Little Fruitcake in 'Em

First off, I want to let everybody know that Martha Stewart is the genius behind the foundations of this recipe, AND if I wouldn't have forgotten to add flour to her recipe for Raspberry Pistachio cupcakes (which can be found on her website), I would not of had the idea to make one giant cake from all of the same ingredients, with a substitution of blackberries for the raspberries (which I used up in the inedible cupcakes sans flour the night before). I consider myself to not be a very good baker, probably because I forget logical ingredients (like flour) when I'm following a recipe. This recipe was a happy accident, and a complete experiment, but I think I like the idea of it better than the cupcake recipe because all of the batter goes into one giant cake pan (rather than cutesy little cupcakes), and the blackberries are a little more toned down in intensity compared to the raspberries (plus they were the only other berry I had in the fridge). For all of those pistachio addicts out there that just can't seem to figure out a good excuse for incorporating pistachios into dishes or desserts, this is a great way to welcome them in. My thinking is that you can probably alter this recipe back to cupcakes (with less cooking time and higher oven temperatures), or alter the ingredients with different types of nuts and berries . . . whatever combination sounds delicious.

For this recipe you will need:

1 cup of flour, sifted into a bowl

1 stick of butter, softened

2 TB pure vanilla extract

1 tsp salt

2.5 C organic can sugar (or regular sugar if you don't have a Trader Joe's!)

4 large brown eggs (regular eggs are fine too)

1-2 C of ripe blackberries

1 1/4 C whole and sliced unsalted raw pistachios (oven roasted should work fine too)

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Setting aside 1/4 C of sliced pistachios, combine 1 C of whole pistachios, sugar, and salt in a food processor until finely ground.

2. Add vanilla, eggs, and softened butter to mix and process until smooth.

3. Add flour (don't forget like I did), and pulse just enough until combined.

4. Pour mix into a cake pan (I used a spring-form circular pan, but any cake pan should work), and spread evenly along surface with spatula.

5. Press blackberries into surface, sprinkling evenly, and sprinkle sliced pistachios into empty spaces.

6. Bake for about 1 hour (or less depending on the oven).

7. Turn oven off, and let the cake cool down in oven for about 15 minutes.

8. Slice and serve, or store in an airtight tupperware container for up to 4 days.

This is the original raspberry/pistachio cupcake recipe:

http://www.marthastewart.com/recipe/pistachio-cupcakes-with-raspberries

Sometimes I REALLY wish I didn't have a car.

Don't get me wrong, having a car can really come in handy, especially when you need to get out of town, or when you are buying/transporting something you can't carry, or if gets you from point A to point B quicker than public transportation. All of these options were easily accessed in good ol' Ohio or suburban Pittsburgh- Chicago is a completely different story. I didn't know how spoiled I was for the past 6 weeks, until today, the day that my complementary free six weeks of on-street parking expired. I could have gone to get a parking pass yesterday, but I used one of my five nights of overnight on-street parking instead, and boy am I glad that I did! I am also glad I had several hours to go about registering for a long-term parking pass, because the bureaucracy of city parking is a nightmare. Technically, I live in River Forest, which is located on the west side of Harlem Avenue, BUT there is NO long-term parking passes allowed on the River Forest side of Harlem Avenue, so I had to get a pass for the Oak Park side of Harlem Avenue, no big deal right? Wrong. Living on the River Forest side of Harlem requires me to pay extra $$ (yes two dollar signs) for a parking pass that is only available on the Oak Park side of Harlem, because it is for Oak Park Residents-o.k.. Well, I am also not permitted to park on the street anymore on the Oak Park side of Harlem because I am not an Oak Park resident. The only parking available for non-residents of Oak Park is in the MOST EXPENSIVE new parking garage about five blocks from my apartment. I mean, o.k., five blocks isn't terribly far away, I can do that. After all of the paperwork was filled out at Oak Park Village hall, I was free to hook up my transponder (which also costs me another $20), and affix my sticker to the back window. Finally! I am free to park and not be ticketed . . . or so I thought.  I proceeded to then use the new transponder in the assigned parking garage for the first time, and failed, because the transponder did not work! A very cold looking lady pulled up behind me in a convertible, and I got out and asked her what I should do. She pointed me in the direction of the office around the corner. I assumed she would back up so that I could pull out of the turnstile, but she did not. I had to get back out of the car and ask her to back up so that I could park somewhere else while I went into the parking garage office. She was not very happy that she had to back up (surprise surprise). I drove around the corner, paid for a parking meter, and went into the parking garage office. I spent another 15 minutes waiting for security to put my information into the system (because apparently it had not been put into the system yet). I then proceeded to move my car into the garage in the designated area for 24-hour parking. Phew. All of the fuss about using my car makes me never want to use it again . . . too bad I have to rotate my car to another space inside of the garage within ten days, or I'll be subject to a ticket. 

Easy Steamed Artichoke/Tomato Pasta Dinner In 20 Minutes

Growing up with pasta as a staple in my diet, I am always looking for new ways to incorporate it (in a more healthy manner) into my diet. Recently, I've made the switch from regular pasta to whole wheat or spinach pasta (due to the heartier, heavier flavor), but you can definitely make this recipe with regular pasta if you'd like. I was in a sun-dried tomato kick for a while when I started cooking with artichoke hearts, but I've decided they're a little too salty for me. In this recipe I'll use fresh vine-ripened tomatoes instead. I'm kind of new to steaming veggies (because I never owned a pot with a glass lid), but it's a great way to preserve the flavor and nutrients of cooked vegetables. 

For this recipe you will need:

1/2 box of Whole Wheat Rotelle Pasta

2 medium sized vine-ripened tomatoes

1 can of artichoke hearts (in water/citric acid)

1 lemon (for juice)

1 clove of garlic, chopped

1 tsp fresh ground pepper

1 tbsp olive oil

1 tbsp balsamic vinegar

1/2 C parmigiano reggiano cheese (flakes or shredded)

1. Start the water for the pasta (enough to cover the pasta . . . about 2 cups), add salt if desired.

2. While you are waiting for the water to boil, remove the tomato stems, chop tomatoes from halves, to quarters, and finally eights. Chop artichoke hearts. Set the veggies aside in a bowl. 

3. Chop garlic finely. Roll lemon (to release juices) and cut in half.

4. Heat pot with olive oil, add garlic when oil reaches medium heat.

5. Saute garlic until lightly browned. The water for the pasta should be boiling by now, so add the pasta to the water and boil for 9-10 minutes, or until al dente. 

6. Add veggies to the pot with the olive oil and garlic. Add ground pepper. Squeeze lemon juice from lemon halves. Stir, and cover, keeping the heat on low. The veggies should be done steaming when the pasta is done.

7. A few minutes before the pasta cooking time is over, add balsamic vinegar to steaming veggies, and give it one more stir.

8. Drain pasta in strainer, and return to pot. Pour steamed veggie mix over cooked pasta (it works like a sauce), and stir.

9. Serve with parmigiano reggiano sprinkled on top.

-You can also switch the recipe up by changing the type or shape of the pasta, sauteing some pine nuts in with the garlic and olive oil, or with different kinds of tomatoes (like sun-dried or roma), or with different kinds of vinegar (like red wine)! 

A no-fail good breakfast/lunch omelette

I'll start off by telling everyone that I live down the street from a Trader Joe's, so most of ingredients come from that store. Why? Their products are affordable, mostly organic, healthful, fresh, and delicious-with the exception of their bread (I'm not saying it's not fresh, it's just the lack of preservatives in their breads makes them not a wise choice for a person living by themselves, who consumes an entire loaf of bread over a long period of time). The bread was delicious, but it didn't stay fresh for very long (it was moldy within a few days of being opened). Back to the recipe. You will need: 

-One medium/large sized non-stick pan

-Non-stick Canola Spray

-Two brown eggs

-1/4 c Shredded mozzarella cheese (Trader Joe's also makes a non-dairy shredded cheese that is tasty as well)

-A handful of sliced mushrooms (baby bella or button variety)

-Fresh basil, four or five large leaves (less or more if preferred), chopped 

1. Once a medium temperature has been obtained on the pre-sprayed non-stick pan, toss the mushrooms into the pan and sautee on low (add salt and pepper if desired).

2. Scramble/whisk eggs in a small bowl while your mushrooms are cooking.

3. After mushrooms have slightly browned, distribute scrambled eggs evenly in the pan (swirl the eggs around with the pan handle to force liquid into empty areas). Reduce heat to low/medium setting.

4. You have time to chop basil here if need be.

5. Once the eggs have settled in the pan evenly across the pan bottom, toss in cheese and basil on one side of the circular omelette. You can now easily fold the side of the omelette empty of middle ingredients to cover the filler ingredients. Let the omelette set once folded for a few minutes.

6. Either remove pan from heat to let cheese melt a little longer, or slide the omelette onto your plate.

7. Enjoy!

First time blogger, long time ponderer.

So, this is my very first blog post, kind of an overwhelming sensation. I think this may be the most difficult post to make, considering I have so much that I could talk about, but out of courtesy for readers, dragging the post out is most likely not preferred. I guess I should start out by telling every body what I would like to discuss in this blog. First off, I am an avid sharer. As do most human beings, I enjoy learning and experiencing things, and sharing them with other people who actually care about my experiences, and in turn hopefully these experiences will be able to inspire, inform, evoke change, take up someone's free time, or simply just take up space in the world of internets. I think it's sort of sad that I've waited so long to start a blog, but I'll try not to be discouraged or intimidated by all of the other super hip and innovative blogs that have been created out there, but I can't promise that sometimes what I share with my reader won't be cliche (hopefully I'll learn how to add an accent over that letter e pretty soon). If I spent my whole time posting trying not to be cliche, I don't think I could relate to anybody else (because we're all cliche at some point in our lives, and that's o.k.). See? I'm already starting a tangent there, so . . . back to being a "sharer". I like to cook, and I love to create affordable, healthy, and delicious dinners for a party of one (or two if I want to eat leftovers for a couple of days), and I would love to share some quick and easy recipes for the other cooking connoisseurs (I sadly had to google that word to see how to spell it, I'm not very good with french words). I would also like to share daily experiences, for example, an idea I might of had while I was on my morning run/dog walk, or while I was sitting in traffic, or what I was observing on the transit line, or while I was eating a meal in public by myself. Yes, I'm an avid observer-certainly shy in new and strange places (like Chicago, Illinois, where I have just moved to, from the sleepy dwellings of Kent, Ohio). If a stranger talks to me first, chances are I'll probably talk to them, because I am SO EAGER to communicate and form connections in an environment that is new and foreign. Lastly, I would like to share where I have been going in the city; museum exhibits, concerts, garage sales, community events, restaurants, etc. Hopefully, as soon as I obtain some sort of job, these places I am going will increase as my income increases. I promise I will update my blog as often as I can, and my posts will most likely decrease as my schedule gets busier, but I will try to never slack on grammar, punctuation and accuracy. Now that I feel like I've long-windingly covered all of my bases, I feel that I can start sharing with you.