Um, yeah, we're not that exciting...

Ben informs me that it's my turn to write on the blog. Problem is, we haven't done much lately! We've been trying to get outdoors as much as possible and spent Saturday riding our bikes down the lakefront path. Check it out:

View from the Peggy Notebaert Nature Museum.

Hanging around Belmont Harbor.

Sunday we awoke to our neighbors hammering, sawing, and building something right outside our kitchen window. At first it appeared to be a fifteen foot long storage box...but then we peeked out the window later in the evening to find, get this...a chicken coop! Seriously, who keeps chickens in the city of Chicago?! Is that even legal? This is an urban area! All I have to say is that none of those chicks better be "cock-a-doodle-doo-ing" me out of bed in the morning!

I guess Carmella is right, this blog is going downhill fast. But, later in the week I promise that Ben will have an exciting play-by-play recount of the Cubs first playoff game that we are going to Wednesday night. Be on the lookout for more of Ben and Katy's Wrigley Field shenanigans. Hopefully since the weather is cooler, we won't see any "WHS"-painted hairy chests this time...

...but you never know what we'll find.

Cat Scratch Fever

This blog is lame. Mom and Dad? Booooring. But at least they feed me. Not enough, or in a timely manner, but it's better than living on the streetz like I waz before. It's very hard to type on this low profile keyboard with my paws.

I like 2 party when Mom and Dad leave. I also like to watch squirrels from the front window. Squirrels are idiots.

Dad is allergic to me. He says I make him sneeze. Personally, I think he's just allergic to hard work. It's ok tho. Mom likes me better than him. Mom also gives me clean water. Dad just leaves the old crap in there from the day before.

Ok, I gotta go practice guitar and make sure those squirrels stay off the ledge. I'll start posting on here again when this blog stopz sucking so bad.

See ya.

Carmella

This is me sniffing the wine to make sure it's good. Dad usually buys the cheap stuff. Dad drinks alot.

Perks of the Job

The Four Seasons Hotel. Perfectly seared Kobe Rib Eye, mashed potatoes, ratatouille. Not pictured: a glass of Flowers Pinot Noir, the greatest wine that the author, an admitted wine novice, has ever tasted.

Also not captured via camera: The awkward moment where the waitress sets the cork of the wine bottle in front of me to sniff. Valuing my blue collar roots over trying to keep up an air of pretention (and quite honestly, not knowing what she was doing), there was a solid 10 second awkward pause before I kind of mumbled, 'um, you can keep that'.

Shenangians

On Thursday, we played hooky from work and headed south to the Friendly Confines for one last regular season game. We would be sitting in the bleachers for the first time since the infamous 'Thunderfist' weekend back in August, when all of my friends were in town. The bleachers always seem to lend themselves to drunken shenanigans, and Thursday was no exception.

After a gluttonous breakfast of cinnamon rolls and other sugar-covered pastries at Ann Sather, we arrived at Wrigley in time to stake out some seats in the left field bleachers. Little did we know at the time, but we had just entered the Cougar Den.

Middle-aged woman, freed from the bonds of marriage, surrounded us. Fanny packs, big bangs, estrogen, tight tops and drunken professions of Sarah Palin-love assaulted us from every direction. There were two girls closer to our age sitting directly in front of us that Katy quickly befriended. When you're stuck in the Cougar Den, you need to adapt or die.

Seated directly in front us were 3 older gentlemen, right next to the two girls that Katy befriended. One of these older gentlemen clearly had a soft spot for young babes and he began to chat them up about his 30 year reunion. They humored him long enough for him to buy them multiple rounds of beers.

Later on, much the horror of my PG-lifestyle, he removed his shirt and tried to get the girls to paint 'WHS' on his chest. Wheeling High School. Yeah, cause everyone will know what that means. The girls were appropriately appalled, and left to his own devices, he fashioned a crude and barely readable WHS on his chest. The 'W' sweated through shortly there after and ended up looking like 'VHS' instead.

"Look at this guy. He must really hate DVDs!"

There were also some younger guys a few rows up who were so inspired by WHS that they decided to paint various Cubs-related propaganda on their chest and back. The results were amateurish at best. One guy's friend wrote 'Lee' (as in Derek) on his buddy's back, but feeling that it lacked 'ooomph', added a crude drawing of male genitalia for good measure. I don't imagine that Derek Lee would approve of such imagery.

Oh, and then there's the game. It was one for the ages. The Cubs trailed 6-2 going into the bottom of the ninth and got 2 quick outs. A couple of hits later and it was a 6-3 game, with 2 runners on for Geovany Soto, who promptly deposited the first pitch he saw into the bleachers, tying the game at 6. Pandemonium ensued. Beer rained down from the sky, strangers were hugged and WHS guy had a mild heart attack. I even tried to high five one of the Palin Cougars, but she said 'thanks but no thanks' to that emotional bridge that I was trying to build.

The game went into extra innings and the Cubs won 7-6 on a two out single by Derek Lee in the 12th. I raised the roof. Off to the Gingerman Tavern after the game, where we celebrated the victory bellied up to the bar, laying waste to a couple pitchers of Pabst Blue Ribbon. A beer that's easy on the wallet, but hard on the digestive system.

Deciding that we needed something to eat since those cinnamon buns were a distant memory and the PBR wasn't doing us any favors, we headed across the street to Wrigleyville Dogs, a greasy spoon of epic proportions, where you can't order anything that is not either deep fried or covered in cheese. Most items are both. We settled on the cheese fries and Italian Beef, which given our impaired judgement, were deemed 'fantastic'. At this point I had put on a straw cowboy hat (over my Cubs hat) that we found lying on our table, so my judgement was questionable at best, potentially treasonous at worst.

We were the only ones in there, save for some completely inebriated guy who sat alone at a table, wondering where his life went. At one point, when Katy went up to the counter (to get us more cheese fries!), Joe Sixpack handed her his cell phone so that she could tell his buddy where exactly he was. The details of the conversation remain sketchy, but it ended with the guy getting mad at Katy, asking her if I was her 'BFF' and eventually hurling french fry at us from 3 tables away. Luckily my straw hat was able to guard against any further shrapnel that came our way.

Tired and sunburnt, our bellies full of cheese fries and cheap beer, we hopped on the Clark bus and headed home, where a soft bed and and a hungry cat lie in wait. The Cubs won. Straw hats won. But with a killer sunburn, indigestion and work the next day, one could argue that I had lost. But I didn't see it that way. Then again, as I mentioned previously, my judgement lost all merit once I threw that straw hat on. So let's call it a draw.

Someone threw this baseball into the air right as I was snapping a photo. Cool stuff.

Wheeling High School! Woooo!

His body is a canvas. A really, really crappy canvas.

Wrigleyville Dogs. Sunburnt, a mouth full of cheese fries and a Bret Michaels hat.

Things We Like: Palermo's Thin Crust Frozen Pizza

This pizza is phenomenal. The rising crust variety isn't too bad, but the thin crust is the real standout here my friends. Pepperoni, Margherita and Supreme are all worth fist-fighting over.

Many a lazy weeknight here at the Handfelt Hacienda have been spent eating Palermo's on the couch, flipping between the Cubs game and Project Runway. According to their website, it's also the official pizza of the Iowa Hawkeyes. Let us now make Palermo's Pizza the official pizza of The Handfelt Happy Hour as well. Sales just increased tenfold.

If I had to describe the taste of this pizza, I would say that it is "a buzzsaw of flavor" and that "it will awaken your tastebuds and curb your cravings for meth". It goes good with domestic beer, Diet Coke, and according to Carmella, "lukewarm tap water". Side effects are minimal. Fresh Parmesan cheese is optional but recommended, as is an adult diaper the first time that you try it.

I give it 4.5 fistbumps out of 5.

Taste of India

Katy: In early June, I went to our mailbox to find the largest and most ornate wedding invitation waiting for me that I've ever seen. It actually didn't even fit in the mailbox, it was waiting for us by our apartment door, it was so big. Printed on gold sparkly paper and covered in jewels, I discovered with surprise that Ben and I were invited to the wedding of my oldest friend, Mital.

To make a long story super short, Mital and I met on the school bus our first day of kindergarten and have remained friends ever since. Our school bus rides evolved into trips to France, Spain, and San Diego in high school, and included a few nights on "The Hill" for these Cedar Falls chicks. Because Mital went to the University of Iowa and then on to med school and Ben and I have moved to Chicago, we've fallen in and out of touch the last three years. You could say that I was thrilled (to say the least) that we would go to her wedding.

Conveniently, it was in a Chicago suburb, so I immediately informed Ben that we were going if he liked it or not. AND we'd know no one, except the bride and her family. AND it'd be a traditional Indian wedding. AND that's the way it's gonna be; we're going. He's a good guy for letting me drag him around like this. He took it well, but I secretly think he was just stoked to use the occasion to break out his suit and get all dressed up. He's kinda like that.

Ben: Who knew that such diversity and culture awaited us in the suburbs? (Elitist.) Skokie never struck me as a cultural melting pot, but then again no one ever accused me of being the brains of this operation ('brawn' is another matter). We arrived at the Skokie Holiday Inn strangers in a strange land. I was certainly the whitest guy there, but really, that's not saying much. I've been at Albino Conventions where I'm the whitest guy in the room.

Seeking out alcohol to ease our social anxiety, we stood there with our drinks, going through the awkward yet obligatory reception exercise of 'milling around'. I probably asked Katy, "Do you need another drink?" upwards of 84 times in the first hour. I am the JD Salinger of social mingling.

Katy: Yeah, I'll admit, we're two somewhat introverted people when facing a crowd of strangers. We've discussed at length several times how it really would've worked out to our favor if at least ONE of us were extremely outgoing and the other could just cling on for dear life and vibe off the other. Instead, we're both wallflowers...but we make it work! I personally like to use my shoes as an icebreaker. Luckily lots of gals will come up to ask me about shoes. Nice. It's a very high level socialization technique. Very advanced. Try at your own risk, especially if you are a man.



Ben: There was a room adjacent to the main hall that was lined with buffet tables brimming with exotic appetizers. We loaded up on samosas (the Indian version of a crab rangoon; puff pastry deep fried and filled with potatoes, peas and onion) and some sort of tempura vegetables. Both were fantastic. I immediately proclaimed that the next weekend would be spent in my underwear on the couch, eating frozen samosas and watching The Darjeeling Limited.

After a while, we entered the main ballroom for dinner. Assigned seats. They put us next to the other scared foreigners. We sat next to a nice couple from Omaha named Sarah and Mike. They were very pleasant, and Sarah was one of the only girls besides Katy that wasn't wearing a traditional sari. Alas, Sarah and Mike didn't imbibe in alcohol, said grace before their meal and talked of leaving early for the night, so our friendship was clearly temporary and forged out of necessity.

It really wasn't too far removed from your typical Anglo wedding. The best man and groomsmen spoke, along with the parents. They cut the cake. (I cut the cheese. Hi-Yo!) There was a first dance, a champagne toast and jokes by the Dads that were heartfelt and laughed at out of courteously.

The meal was great. I am no Indian food expert (my expertise lies in margaritas and mashed potatoes), having only really tried it a handful of times, but this was better than most of the Indian buffets we've been to. And it was vegetarian to boot. Don't ask me to recall the names of everything that we tried, but it was all really good. Naan (soft Indian bread), lentils, some sort of spiced cauliflower and then a version of 'butter chicken' (but instead of chicken, tofu!) served over rice all made for a very interesting meal. Normally I would shake my fist and curse hippies at the mere thought of tofu, but this was quite tasty. To borrow and overused cliche, it tasted like chicken.

After that it was on to the dance floor. Lots of Indian pop songs, which were catchy in their own right. Some song about going to the disco was played at least twice to enthusiastic results. I need to talk to someone over there about updating the word 'disco'. It's also good to know that despite cultural differences, the Indian people still enjoy singing along to 'Livin' On a Prayer' as much as the next Joker's regular. After the grandparents went to bed, the DJ broke out the American staples. Jay Z and of course, Bel Biv Devoe. The bartender knew us by name, and by the end of the night when he saw me coming, he immediately had two Corona's waiting by the time I got there. That's my kind of service.

Katy: I have to agree with Ben here. There were lots of jokes and drinks flowing. This crew was getting down. Mital's younger brother was even wearing pimpy white Saturday Night Fever style shoes. Everyone, even Mital's grandmother (who was in her 80s back in the '80's) was busting a move on the dance floor. No one was sitting in their seats once the dance started. And I dig the Indian music. I was jealous of all the beautiful young gals in their colorful and sparkly saris. I'll admit it. I may have to take a trip up to Devon Avenue to rent a Bollywood movie and purchase a sari for myself. It was a very cool experience.

I'm so glad that I was able to see Mital and her family again after all these years. Ajay, her husband, seemed great and we wish them all the best.

Ben: It was a long but fruitful night. Mital looked great and her husband seemed nice, from what could be gleaned from a 3 minute conversation. All in all, a great success!



The main ballroom. As the kids say, this is where all the magic happens.



Katy and Ben, circa 2008. We clean up nice eh? Well Katy does at least. But don't put it past me to sell you some insurance.

Katy and the blushing bride, Mital.


The meal. The orange stuff is the tofu, which was better than it had any right to be. The brown stuff is lentils; basically tasted like yummy beans. The stuff in the back is the naan. Then there's a big tortilla chip type thing. The desert is in the back where you can't really see it. Carrot cake and some orange concoction that elicited a soft, but audible, "mmmm".



Handfelt Happy Hour staple. The self snapped photo.



I usually charge money to teach fools these kind of dance moves.




This is reminiscent of the celebration that occurred when I won 8th Grade MVP for Blessed Sacrament football.

Cue the Theme Song to 'Family Ties'

Katy: We had a great Labor Day weekend. Ben and I put the "labor" in Labor Day on Saturday when we under took a 20 minute run. Now, you professional runners our there, don't laugh at us. My usual exercise routine consists of yoga classes and walking alot (we don't have a car). So, at the beginning of the summer, Ben and I started a running program appropriately called "Couch to 5K". You can find all the deets here. We follow a podcast that directs us what to do, and over the course of nine weeks, the goal is to build up our running time slowly and consistently to 3K. This week (Week 5) was our longest run yet at 20 minutes on the lakefront path. We are proud we've stuck with it this long!

So, after the run on Saturday, we got ready to indulge ourselves the rest of the weekend with my parents in town. After going to the Iowa football game on Saturday, Harry and Cindy pulled into the Windy City on Sunday afternoon. We gave them the tour of our neighborhood and did some shopping, then stepped into the Edgewater Lounge for the second week in a row for a drink (great dive bar with the bartender's dogs wandering around - a plus in my book) and to Moody's for the best burger (and patio) in Chicago!

Monday we watched the Cubs lose (boo!) to the Astros, but enjoyed the great weather and great company at the game. We also saw Ronnie Woo-Woo for the first time this year. Where has that guy been all summer? This is the third year in a row that my parents have come into town for Labor Day weekend/my mom's birthday, so it's somewhat of an annual tradition that we enjoy. Thanks for coming, Dad and Mom! Happy birthday! Be sure to check out the link to our photo website at the bottom of our blog. We periodically update it with all of our latest pictures and hijinks.

Ben: This was the first time that the Cubs had to raise the white surrender flag as opposed to the white 'W' flag at any of the games we had been to this year. I guess they forgot to take their chewable Flinstones vitamins in the morning. Our seats were decent enough considering that they were in the upper deck. Sitting in the front row allows for easy access to the beer man and also allowed me to show off some of my unique brand of athleticism by 'jumping the rail' to get to the bathroom.

All was not lost though, dear reader. We were able to take Kate's parents to Moody's Pub on Sunday night and indulge in some of their glorious onion rings, hand-breaded by Jesus himself (the cook, not the Savior). We also discovered Lucky's Sandwich Company outside of Wrigley, where they have pitchers of Old Style for $5. That may sound rather pedestrian, but trust me, it's hard to find a bottle of beer outside of Wrigley for $5 much less a whole pitcher. We also drank some beers and relaxed at Harry and Cindy's Motel, the Heart O' Chicago. There is something strangely relaxing about sitting in a sparse motel with the in-laws, drinking ice cold cans of Milwaukee's Best and shooting the breeze.

I often times imagine that I'm in one of those movies where the lead characters have just robbed a bank. On the run, they hole themselves up in a motel with the curtains drawn, watching the TV for news of their heist, while rolling around on the bed amidst piles of cash. Then I realize that if we did indeed rob a bank, we probably wouldn't be drinking Milwaukee's Best and that it would be really awkward if I rolled around on Katy's parents bed, laughing maniacally. But a few more cans of Milwaukee's Best and I might just do it anyway.

Moody's Pub last Sunday. Harry's hair is so long that it now has it's own Social Security number.

Outside of Wrigley