Breakin’ the law.

Since we moved to the city a little over two years ago, I’ve been ducking the police like a teenaged vandal. Why? Because I believe my dog deserves to run free.

Now, after living in three different neighborhoods, I’ve found that I’m not alone. Take a closer look at any vacant lot, park or open area inside the city of Chicago and you’ll see one of us. Hiding behind a tree stump or creeping around a bank of shrubs, we’re there with our Poodles, Boxers and strange humane society combinations, plastic bag in one hand and a leash in the other.

But this morning I had my closest call yet. With Jez nearby, recovering from yet another failed squirrel chase, I saw the white Crown Victoria run the stop sign directly in front of Senn High School. Hot pursuit? Looking for some perps? Perhaps another burglary in the neighborhood? Nope. The cop was after us.

There was a moment of panic. I went for the leash. I called to Jez, who seeming to pick up on the urgency in my voice, ran obediently to my side. Moving quickly, with one fluid motion, Jez was hooked. Above the parked cars on Glenwood Avenue, I saw the blue and red lights quickly change direction. The cop made an abrupt u-turn heading right for us. Ducking behind a cargo van and continuing to walk—slowly—I heard his car roll by. We went north. He drove south. We were free.

Of course there were other people in the park who probably weren’t as lucky as we were. While it’s only speculation, I imagine tickets were written and, for at least 10 or 15 minutes, Senn High School was free of us dangerous dog walkers. Now as I sit here it occurs to me that no matter how tame my life may be, I’m never beyond the reach of the long arm of the law.

Such a magical time of year.

Well, my friends, Meat Meet season is here once again. Like Christmas for hardcore carnivores, the Meat Meet is all about good friends, good food and skill on the grill. Of course, our move to the big city has kept me from cooking anything besides the basics, so I’ll skip all the bragging and admit I’m probably not coming home with the trophy this year.

It can’t always be opposite day.

I hate it when microwaves send reminder beeps when they’re finished warming things up.

I hate it when people call me “guy”.

I hate it when people don’t use their turn signals.

I hate it when people water the sidewalk instead of their lawn.

I hate it when people use dumb expressions like “cat got your tongue” and “threw me for a loop”.

I hate it when people use the word “bling”.

I hate it when guys try to strike up conversations while they’re standing next to you at the urinal.

I hate it when people think it’s hilarious to bring up the ‘Wizard of Oz’ when I mention that I’m from Kansas.

I hate it when people say hate is a strong word.

I hate it when I wake up and all I can think about are things I hate.

DIY takes a toll on R&R.

Paint brushes. Spackle. Light fixtures. Hooks. Knobs. Noose.

Indeed, now that I’m a card-carrying member of the Ace Hardware Rewards Club, Cristi and I have the same conversation every Friday morning. It goes like this:

Cristi:
“What’re we doing this weekend, Greenie?”

Me:
“Don’t know. Maybe we should head over to Wicker Park and do our performance art in front of ATM machines?”

Cristi:
“Weren’t you thinking about painting the hallway? What about the front room? And you know the blinds keep falling down in the kitchen? Oh, but you know we could take a weekend off . . .

And then Saturday morning rolls around. And we stand there, coffee mugs in hand, the whole glorious day before us and suddenly things get fuzzy. When we come out of the haze, we’re walking the dimly lit isles of Clark-Devon Hardware, little red baskets in hand, debating what kind of foam to put around the window unit in the bedroom, whether the toilet seat needs to be replaced and the finer points of towel rack design.

Yes, just I feared a few months back, the place we live in has taken over our lives and we’re too far gone to save ourselves. Which reminds me, I’ve gotta go—I have windows to measure, wires to clip and drains to clean.

The latest weekend project. It would’ve gone faster, but my teardrops kept causing the paint to run.