NW Suburban Xmas Tree Lot

Beginning late in the day on Friday, rain starting falling and continued through much of Saturday. Not particularly heavy, and temps were warm enough, barely, to prevent ice formation. But all the wet did delay our planned Christmas tree acquisition until today.

Fairly cold today, but dry, so there were no issues with a wet tree in the back seat. That’s how we carry it home, bottom of the trunk pointed toward to floor of the back seat, the thin top pointed out the opposite window, which is rolled down a bit. This year the top of the tree stuck out about a foot, and the window was rolled down about that much.

The modest NW suburban lot we patronized. Cash only.
Xmas Tree LotI took that picture last year. This year I didn’t bother. But it looked almost exactly the same today, and the tree-buying was the same. Find a tree at or under what I wanted to spend, exchange a few words with the proprietors (a middle-aged couple), watch as the one of them, the man as it happened, cut a few inches off the bottom with a chain saw and then run the tree through the netting gizmo. I carried the netted tree to the car and loaded it myself.

After some re-arrangement of the debris in the living room, the 7-foot or so balsam now awaits decoration. We’ll get to it when Ann feels like helping. Doing most of it, actually.

Verschiedene Artikel (Donnerstag)

Still above freezing most of the time, and no snow or ice. My kind of winter. But rain is slated for the weekend, devolving into snow. Maybe. That might interfere with getting a Christmas tree.

Not long ago I visited a high floor of an office building here in the northwest suburbs, something I don’t do to much these days. The view included the roof of a major retail location.Not very green, that roof. Besides whatever sustainability might be achieved, a roof that includes plants is more interesting to look at. Such as can be seen here and here. I don’t get to visit green roofs that often — ones such as the Chicago City Hall are inaccessible — but I did see one in suburban Toronto during my green press tour in that metro area. Didn’t take any pics.

Just behind the retailer is the office building’s nigh-empty parking lot.

Parking takes up a lot of space, no doubt about it. This study only focuses on a few cities, however, not the endless suburbs.

I set the background of my laptop to change every minute, and to keep things interesting, and I change the collection of images the computer uses every few days, if I remember to. Yesterday I directed the computer to use the images in the file July 5, 2019, which was our first day in Pittsburgh last year.

This popped up as part of the cycle. I’d forgotten I’d taken it.
That was in the Andy Warhol Museum.

Ann and I are still watching Star Trek roughly once a week. I’d say she’s seen about half of the original series. The most recent ones were the “Immunity Syndrome” and “A Private Little War,” both of which hold up reasonably well, though in strict storytelling terms, “Immunity” is better, since the concept is simple and the execution fairly taut. It’s the crew of the Enterprise vs. a whopping big space amoeba.

Best of all, it doesn’t turn out that the whopping big space amoeba is actually a sophisticated intelligence that the heroes eventually learn to communicate with and peacefully coexist with, a la Roddenberry.

That can be an OK track for a story — such as in “Devil in the Dark” — but for sheer space pulp drama, what you want is a mindless menace that needs to be destroyed by the last act. Star Trek did an even better job of that in “The Doomsday Machine,” in which the Enterprise fights a massive bugle corn snack that shoots death rays.

At first I thought “A Private Little War” was the (stupid) episode with the Yangs and the Cohms, in which Capt. Kirk recites the Pledge of Allegiance, among other looniness. No, that’s “The Omega Glory,” which we haven’t gotten to.

“War” is a jerry-built metaphor for the Vietnam War, involving as it does war among alien rustics, a Klingon plot to arm the natives, Kirk’s “balance of power” response, etc. Also, there was a raven-haired femme fatale with a bare midriff that got the attention of the 13-year-old I once was, and a creature that looked like a man in an albino gorilla suit, because that’s what it surely was. Spock bled green from a gunshot wound and Nurse Chappell got to slap him around. Why didn’t we ever see more of Dr. M’Benga? (Seems he was in another episode briefly.) Here’s why: actors cost money, as much as showrunners might wish otherwise.

One more item for today. Not long ago we got takeout at Asian Noodle House, a wonderful storefront that seems to be surviving on the takeout trade. We go there every other month or so. Fortune cookies come with each order, one per entre. Each wrapped in its own little plastic bag.

Today we got three little bags. One of them had two cookies tightly packed within. Is that like getting a double yolk? Does it mean extra good fortune or extra bad chi? Maybe one cookie is ying, the other yang.

The Case of the Missing Article

Got an email recently purporting to be from a financial services company that I do business with, X. It includes the X logo and small-letter verbiage directing me to visit the X web site in the normal way. Which I expect a lot of people don’t do, but rather click the message’s link.

The big lettering that forms the main message, with a highly visible link in the second sentence, says as follows, sic:

Thank you for your X account information. This message confirms your X account requires update.

To protect and keep your X account up to date, Please UPDATE YOUR X ACCOUNT immediately.

Ah, the want of an indefinite article gives the game away, if you didn’t know that companies like X don’t send messages like this anyway. As in, “your X account requires [an] update.” There’s also the matter of the errant capital letter in “Please.”

A missing article made me think of this scene. Remarkably enough, since I haven’t seen that movie since it was new in 1976. The scene was easy enough to find. I Googled “Murder by Death ar” (as in the first two letters of articles) and one of the auto-suggestions was “Murder by Death use your articles.”

East Branch

We haven’t been in any restaurants or theaters or concert venues since March, and our membership at the municipal indoor pool long ago lapsed. On the other hand, we’ve been to a lot of green spaces this year, now brown as fall has vanished into winter, including city parks, state parks, and one national forest, monument and park each. But especially that kind of undeveloped land specific to Illinois: the forest preserve, a localized legacy of Progressive Era activism.

I wondered how many we’ve been to this year, so I made a count. Five visits to forest preserves we’ve been to before, and 10 new ones, variously in Cook, DuPage, Kane and Lake counties. I doubt that we visited more than one or two new ones a year before 2020. Fifteen is only a small fraction of however many hundreds of preserves there might be statewide, but I’m glad we’ve taken the walks, and plan to continue doing so next year.

On Saturday afternoon, we took a walk at East Branch, a 521-acre unit of the DuPage County Forest Preserve District in Glendale Heights. Temps were in the 40s. That’s warm enough for a forest preserve walk.
East Branch forest preserve“East Branch was previously used as farmland prior to the Forest Preserve District acquiring it in the early 1970s,” the district web site says. “During the 1980s, wetlands were created along the East Branch DuPage River as mitigation for the construction of Interstate 355.”

A trail from a small parking lot off Glen Ellyn Road leads to a small lake.
East Branch forest preserveIt’s called Rush Lake. The district asserts that it’s a good place to see waterfowl, and so it was. Ducks, at least.
East Branch forest preserveThe main trail circles around the lake, though sometimes a little ways from the shore. Hoofprints in the mud along the way meant horse riding is an activity there, but we didn’t see any riders. We saw two men with fishing poles, a woman walking a dog and a man simply walking around. That was all.
East Branch forest preserveIt was about an hour until sunset. The view to the west.
East Branch forest preserveThe view to the north.
East Branch forest preserveThe dome off in the distance is St. Andrew Ukrainian Orthodox Cathedral.

Wintertime Social Zoom

On Friday evening, I participated in another social Zoom, once again attended by old friends. Really old friends. As far back as I can go among my friends, since I doubt I’d ever be able to contact my best friend in first grade, whose name was Smith.

The recent Zoom involved two friends I met in elementary school and another in junior high, and who continued to be friends in high school: Steve, Rob and Kevin. After that, we weren’t in touch so much, with sporadic contact over that last 40 years, though Kevin went with me and two other high school friends to New Orleans in the summer of ’81.

Steve I met in 1968, Rob and Kevin in the early ’70s. As I said, taking things back as far as I can go. Only my brothers have known me longer.

Two participants were in Texas, one in New Mexico, and one in Illinois. Steve is a high school band director, Kevin a graphic artist, and Rob a retired computer programmer.
One of the things we did as a group in the mid-70s, beginning in junior high and petering out in high school, was play penny-ante poker at my house. Good fun, as I recall.

So was the Zoom call, though occasionally awkward. After all, there’s been a lot of water under the dam since we hung out.

Look Right (Or Else)

Some years ago, I scanned one of the pictures I took in London in December 1994, a streetscape. I forget where exactly. Something inspired me to scan it in black and white, which captures the December gloom all the better.

Noir London

Not that London’s a particularly gloomy place, in December or any other time. But old movies on long-ago Saturday afternoons conditioned me to think of old London in foggy black and white, and I caught something of that in the image. Maybe not London in 1994, but 1934.

Looking at the image again, I noticed LOOK RIGHT painted on the edge of the road. Sound advice, I’m sure. When did that message start being painted to warn visitors whose first instinct is to look the wrong way?

A 1991 NYT article mentions the paintings in the context of pedestrian deaths in London, but it only says, “this city has always been tough on foreign pedestrians, who can often be observed at street corners wearing the slightly startled look of deer edging alongside a freeway. It was for them, mostly, that London officials years ago began painting reminders along curbs suggesting that pedestrians ‘look left’ or ‘look right’ before venturing into the street.”

Perhaps for the influx of U.S. soldiers during WWII. That would be my guess. Of course, the hazard is present for Britons visiting our side of the Atlantic as well. After all, Winston Churchill almost bought the farm in New York in 1931 because he failed to look the right (correct) way crossing a street.

Winter ’20

Winter starts on December 1, as far as I’m concerned. Some past years, that day has obliged us with snow cover, or least snow flurries, such as in 2006 and 2008 and 2010.

Not this year. I had to be out early in the morning to be somewhere, but it was merely dry and below freezing.

Or maybe winter started the night about a week before Thanksgiving when I was out ’round midnight and spotted Orion riding high in the sky, trailed by the loyal Canis Major.

 

After I got home yesterday, I had a lot to do, and so didn’t spent much more time out in the early winter temps, or even thinking about them. Early in the evening, I looked up the local temperature. About as cold as I thought: 28.

Then I had a moment of idle curiosity. The Internet was made for just such moments, so I looked up what I wanted to know: how cold it was at that moment in Anchorage, Alaska: 37.

Not as cold as I thought. The kind of thing TV weather presenters occasionally yak about, though usually in January: Look, it’s colder in Illinois than Alaska! But according to the respective 10-day forecasts, it will soon be single-digits in Anchorage, but not here.

Machines Come, Machines Go

About a month ago, our long-serving toaster oven gave up the mechanical ghost after how many years? No one could remember. Eventually, its heating element refused to heat, so we left it out for the junkmen at the same time as the standard trash, and sure enough it vanished in the night.

We replaced it in the modern way, ordering another one online. A brand I didn’t know, but since toaster ovens aren’t a major outlay, research was minimal.
toaster oven
Soon a Mueller brand device arrived and was put into service toasting wheat-based edibles. It was not a smart machine with a wifi connection to send data on our bread usage to the National Association of Wheat Growers, the Wheat Foods Council or the North American Millers’ Association, or a machine equipped with AI to encourage us to eat more toast. Just a box with a heating element and knobs to make it go.

For about a month, the new box worked without problem. Except for a squeaking from the veeblefetzer that keeps the oven door shut, every time we opened and closed it. The squeaky part is circled. The noise got worse as time went on.
toaster oven
Soon the squeak came with resistance by the part, and on the Monday before Thanksgiving, as I opened the door I heard a loud snap. The part broke and the door would no longer close, as seen in the photos above.

Inquires were made and arrangements arranged, and before long I ventured into a retail store, all masked up, to return the item at an online return point and then pick up a replacement elsewhere in the store. Hadn’t been in that particular store in a long time, since early 2020 at least. Not many other people were around.

The online retailer wouldn’t or couldn’t replace it with another Mueller, so I took a refund and bought a Black + Decker replacement. That was the brand we had before the Mueller, so I hope it will last a while. Certainly more than a month. So far so good — no suspicious veeblefetzer noises.

Grassy Lake Forest Preserve

Up among the various Barrington-named towns in northern Illinois — Barrington itself, but also North Barrington, South Barrington, Barrington Hills, Lake Barrington — is the Grassy Lake Forest Preserve, a unit of the Lake County Forest Preserve District. Its 689 acres are tucked away along the banks of the Fox River, a tributary of the Illinois River.
Grassy Lake FP
“Silver maples, cottonwoods and willows line the banks of the Fox River and its floodwater-storing floodplain,” says the Lake County FP web site. “Burly old-growth oaks occupy slightly higher ground above the river, and former agriculture fields now being restored to prairie can be viewed.

“Prominent geological landforms such as kettles and kames tell of Lake County’s not too distant glacial shaping, while providing sweeping views of the river valley and the surrounding area. Centuries-old landscape plantings of catalpa trees, Douglas firs, and a hedgerow of osage orange remind of us those who lived here before us.

I’m not sure exactly what a kettle or kames might look like, but I assume they’re some of the undulations we saw in the landscape. We arrived soon after noon on the day after Thanksgiving. This year, we participated in Buy Nothing Day by taking a hike.Grassy Lake FP
Grassy Lake FP
Grassy Lake FP
The trail winds into the forest preserve. Soon you come to a memorial to an unfortunate lad named Derek Austin Harms that includes trees and benches and a boulder with a plaque.
Grassy Lake FP
It isn’t hard to find out more about the young Mr. Harms, 1997-2018.

Side trails wander down to the edge of the Fox. The river widens quite a lot at this point, perhaps forming the feature called Grassy Lake, though I haven’t found anything to confirm that.
Grassy Lake FP
Grassy Lake FP
Grassy Lake FP
Follow the main path far enough and it rises to the highest point in the forest preserve, where it dead ends.
Grassy Lake FP
Not the highest view I’ve seen recently, but on a clear warm-for-November day, a good one.

Thanksgiving ’20 &c.

Clear and cool lately, with daytime temps in the 50s. Not bad for late November. So far, no snow yet except for a dusting we had a few days before Halloween. It didn’t last. Next time, it probably will.
october snow
Pleasant Thanksgiving at home. Nothing made from scratch this year except the gravy, but the boxed macaroni and stuffing you can get at Trader Joe’s isn’t bad at all. And what’s a Thanksgiving dinner without olives, I tell my family. They aren’t persuaded.
Thanksgiving victuals
Took a walk last weekend at Fabbrini Park in Hoffman Estates.
Fabbrini Park
The geese were still around, mucking up the place.