Saturday, December 1, 2007

trying new things

Woke up this morning thanks to a call from Mike, reminding me we were to go over to Lakewood for our first pilates class with Christina.

How could I forget that? I'm no Rambo/Rutger Hauer/John McClain-style overtly self-consciously macho man, but the idea of taking a pilates class had me a little freaked out. The text message from my friend Jen in Texas suggesting a leotard didn't help matters.

After lumbering about, convincing myself not to convince myself to feign a sore throat or fluey stomach, it was off to Lakewood. We survived, though my shoulders are pretty sore and I don't think I'll ever be able to make eye contact with Christina again, after my embarrasing performance.

Afterwards, I dropped Mike off at the bubble, had a morning beer with his business partner Chris, and then it was off to Gateway for Smelly Ellie's last check-up related to her infected cyst of a few weeks ago. She got the thumbs up from Dr. Abby, but my last second request to have Ellie's ears looked at (she's been asking me to rub them an awful lot lately) revealed two separate yeast infections, thus raising the price of the visit another half-bill and getting her two more forms of medication. I also could swear I got some glares from Abby and the nosy woman at the examination table next to me. Two infections in as many months -- I must be doing something wrong! People, she's a beagle. Big floppy ears and deformed glands -- what am I supposed to do?

Anyway, chastened, wallet lightened, I depart, head home, have lunch and play with Smelly. Then it is off to the RTA station, to catch the Red Line to Tower City. I manage to avoid cursing at the J. Crew-ensconced drunk couple harassing the conducter (Seriously - is there a stand somewhere in the bowels of the West Side Market that gives away shots along with fruit samples? Cause I'd like to go, too.), jet off the train, and head up to Caribou coffee for a ... wait for it ... cup of coffee. Seasonal spirit momentarily and unwisely struck me and I ordered up a ho ho latte or something stupid like that and remembered an oft-learned lesson: I hate the confectionary coffee drinks these places serve. Oops.

With a mustache full of whipped cream, I head out Tower City and over to Prospect, then down a half-dozen blocks to Mike the Hatter's. I'm a hat guy, have been since I was about 10. Once you near 30, the opportunities to wear ball caps become pretty limited, but I still don headware on a very regular basis. Places like Mike the Hatter's allow you to do so, look somewhat like an adult (though my businessman meets pirate t-shirt and my eleven-year-old blue hoodie messed that up anyway), and even feel like a historical throwback. I bought a beautiful cap for about $50 bucks - a little pricy, I admit, but it is really pretty (a descriptor that, despite the pilates class mentioned earlier, I don't use often) and classic.

Then it was back down Prospect, to the Sincere Building (at the corner of Prospect and E. 4th). to check out the Bazaar Bizarre. Brought to the city by the SUPER cool Pop Up City organization. Stay tuned for other things by these folks for sure. There were about 3 dozen tables manned by some really edgy crafts artisans. Edgy crafts people? I know, sounds weird, but there was some really cool shit here. I wish I would have had more cash -- one table was selling awesome "seasons greetings from cleveland" funky postcards and cool red rider christmas cards. I bought myself a lapel pin that I think will look cool on my ragged brown cord default lecturing blazer. I also got my little sis a cool wrist thing made out of a necktie. I think she'll like it; more importantly, I will feel like the one brother that managed to get the high school hipster something she won't return. Or at least can't return. Mwah ha ha.

After all that, it was back home, to feed Smelly. I'm about to take her for a brisk walk, then head over to the convergence-continuum theater in Tremont to check out the new play they are staging, Demon Baby. The name alone is probably worth the 12 buck admission, but the online reviews of other stagings look promising. Then, maybe, depending on my mood, energy, and the residual effects of the pilates, I might check out the midnight showing of The Big Lebowski at the wonderfully-named Cedar Lee. We shall see...

(Wait, that rhymes!)

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