Miracle of Miracles

My prayers were answered!!!!

So I was at Halsted Foods the other day, doing my regular grocery shopping and....well... the way I shop for groceries is very structured. This is to avoid a situation where I become stressed out and start talking to myself because then no one will help me because they think I'm crazy. I go up aisle one, and down aisle two. Up aisle three and down aisle four. Always. It helps me. Truly, if you have never seen me in a large store then I must assure you that it overwhelms me. For instance, I was at Macy's the other day -- THE FLAGSHIP MACY'S -- looking for flannel sheets and somehow I wound up in this nearly abandoned part of the store stuffed full of product that no one was even looking at besides me. Pots and pans all shining at me like wanton prostitutes, a dining-room sized table stacked high with nothing but Pizza-Made-Easy! pans, a small clearing of petite Christmas trees overloaded with gold and red ornaments, display furniture of various shapes and sizes that all seemed to lumber around me as I walked down a glossy hallway absolutely and completely alone. I was ducking around pillars and blenders, trying to ignore the eeriness of happy-go-lucky piped in music when I finally encountered a sales representative. "HI OKAY WHERE IS THE ELEVATOR?"

"Over there."

"Thank you. Dear god, you are the only person I've seen in 10 minutes. I thought I might be trapped in some kind of art film!" I get so stressed out I actually say things like that to people. But this isn't what I was originally telling you about.

So I was walking up aisle two of Halsted foods, looking first to my left and then to my right AND THERE, TO MY SHEER AND EXTREME DELIGHT was a can of "Hungarian style" sardines in Polish packaging.

That's right. My local grocery store just started AN ENTIRE AISLE dedicated solely to Polish foods. I nearly died and went to heaven. Incidentally, I met YET ANOTHER employee of Halsted Foods. I don't know his name so we will call him Rather Large Cute (Highschool?) Boy. Rather Large Cute (Highschool?) Boy was stocking groceries on the other side of the aisle and I approached him with glee, wearing straight up awe-on-my-jaw:

Me: Excuse me....is...is...is..THIS NEW???
RLC(H?)B: Oh, yeah it is.
Me: Ohhhh myyyyy goddddd.
RLC(H?)B: Hahahaha, you like it?
Me: Let me tell you something, I used to live in Ukrainian Village and you could find this stuff anywhere. I mean anywhere. In an alleyway, down in the gutters, on the bus, ANYWHERE.
RLC(H?)B: Hahahaha, what is it? I can't read it.
Me: It's Polish.
RLC(H?)B: Oh okay cool!
Me: You don't even know how much this means to me.

Then I went to the deli counter but, alas, they don't sell chopped liver. And when I say "they don't sell chopped liver" what I really mean is, they have no idea what chopped liver is and need me to describe it to them before they tell me that they don't have it.


Le Sigh,
Toujours amour
pour tu,
parce-que tu es mon favori,
avec les bisous bisous,
Mackenzie

Symptom: No Appetite

Hello out there. Mackenzie here. Writing to you between shuddering coughs, wrapped tighter than a swaddle in flannel sheets, two fleecies, and two comforters. It may be difficult for me to go on but I will try. Like Poe's young songbird wife, so lovely and raven haired, brimming both with virtue and a bacterial fester of consumption, I will attempt to sing a simple melody despite the bloody expectorate it conjures. As feverish rapture devours me, not unlike poor and tortured Raskolnikov after his foray into murderous philosophy, I still tap forth with the last reserves of my courage and strength. To you, my friends, to you.


I really have had the flu for the past 4 days but I'm feeling better. It's been sort of a gentle malaise all day today. Speaking of gentle malaises, have you met my friend Luba? She volunteered to contribute the bulk of today's content since I was feeling so unwell.

Domestic Drinking

So after getting sufficiently wasted on vodka (bad vodka--from Indiana--big mistake: it actually tastes the way my garbage smells. No. Really.) I decided it was time to clean my bathroom and kitchen. I windexed  our glass-surface breakfast table and all the mirrors in our apartment before I moved on to cleansing the shower/bath. The minute I sprayed the stuff into our badly splotched tub I was transported to an early childhood memory. My mother is a psychologist and she tells me that smell is the sense most strongly connected with memory. I believe it. The fresh hillside smell of this bathroom cleanser reminded me of Maria.

My parents have a house cleaner. She is Polish. Her name is Maria. I have grown up knowing her (which may account for my my fondness for pickled things. Maybe not. Who really knows for certain?). She has twin sons who are my age. They are named Bartek and Robert. I used to hang out at their house playing video games and eating vanilla wafers. I don't know if you know this, but Eastern European people are crazy about vanilla wafers and really, wafer treats of any kind. When I used to live in Ukrainian Village I would go to the local Polish grocer for very cheap produce and there was literally a single aisle dedicated entirely to wafer treats. As long as we're on the subject though, I instruct you to never --and I mean never-- ever buy "Italian Style" tomato sauce at a Polish grocer. It was one of the most disgusting things I had ever tasted. Sausage however, is all system go.

I miss Ukrainian Village so hard. I used to walk around, admiring all the cool churches and buying currant juice, wafer treats, Polish beer, legit-fucking pickles, and Lithuanian rye bread. That was the life, my friends. Don't get my wrong, I like being able to buy El Cheapo Tortillas and canned refried beans for under a dollar but there is just no beating a meaty, saucy ambiguous buffet at Mitch & Janina's. Here, let me take you on a very quick photographic tour of my old neighborhood!

It's ALL about self-reliance, my friends.

St. Nicholas Ukrainian Catholic Cathedral

Lurking fatso cat who would spy on me on my way to the grocery store every week.

St. Volodomyr & Olha Ukrainian Catholic Church

Holy Trinity Cathedral (originally founded as St. Vladimir's Russian Orthodox Church)

Entrance detail of Holy Trinity Cathedral

"& other things"

One of my favorite memories at the Polish grocery was the time I practiced my (terrible) Russian. They had just sold me some delicious hunk of meat but I was in dire need of a napkin. I went back to the butcher counter and this time, instead of just pointing to what I wanted, I asked "Do you have a napkin?" They looked at me with intelligent and educated Non-Understanding. Clearly, there was a language barrier. Timidly, I asked, "Salfietka??" knowing full well the longstanding angst between Russian and Polish culture BUT

LO AND BEHOLD

I was rewarded with both a SMILE and a napkin. Best. Day. Ever.

But to bring things full circle, I just want to say, thank god for Maria, Bartek and Robert. I'm actually learning some Polish now. To jest dość trudne! [It is quite difficult!]. I believe Bartek is  a history teacher now and Robert lives in Poland. Thanks again for the purple Skip It you bought me for my 12th birthday. And, embarrassingly enough, I'm fairly certain I owned the exact same pink dress as the girl in that picture.

cześć!!
[bye!!]
-Mackenzie

»radiant devices« with dinner

So I eat dinner sometimes with my friends Mojdeh and Fyodor. They are also in a band called »radiant devices« which has been described to me as follows, 

"...like if Rage Against The Machine, Red Hot Chili Peppers, The Pixies, Einstürzende Neubauten, Swans, and Bjork had a love child."

You might be wondering "What would that look like?" Well, there are pictures:

As you can see, they know their way around large industrial objects which is no surprise since they use "propane tanks, parts of cars, metal chains, trash cans, satellite dishes, and other discarded/found objects as percussion instruments." »radiant devices« is Chicago based and they are currently collaborating (as we speak!) with electronica/avant-garde artists both local & international for their debut album!


Now that we've all been properly introduced (and because I am a serious blogger), it's time for an interview/dialogue:

Gargle in Health, Bubbela

I don't know anything about wine.

Actually, I couldn't even drink wine for years because of a traumatic young adult experience involving nail polish remover. You see, my grandmother was always in the habit of giving me a variety of useful but sort of thoughtless gifts including but not limited to:

1. floss
2. paper bags
3. pens
4. mouthwash

*** I want to just point out that she would also give me wonderfully thoughtful things too. It was just a funny mix. Anyway...

So one day I was over at her condo and she presented me with this sort of Old-Lady brand of mouthwash. It didn't come in a jacked-up, vaguely muscular bottle, you know, like the way Listerine does. Nor was it a crazy LOUD color to indicate cleanliness. Instead it was in this sort of frosty, tear drop shaped bottle with an off-white screw on top. "You should gargle at least once a day," she instructed me between bites of white fish and bagels. "Thanks, Nana."

I took the mouthwash home and pretty much forgot about it. To this day, I have no idea where I put it. What I do remember is that a few weeks later I was brushing my teeth before bedtime and I thought to myself, "Oh! I shall be such a dutiful granddaughter tonight if I use that mouthwash my kindhearted Nana gave me last month!" And thinking pleasant thoughts, I grabbed the nearby teardrop shaped bottle that was sort of frosted over and poured the liquid into the cap.

"Oh Nana," I thought as I poured, "you buy such weird mouthwash. This cap is so small. Barely big enough for a gulpful of this of this wonderful mouthwash you bought me!" And without a second thought, I knocked it back.

And then I entered a world of pain.

For yous see, it wasn't mouthwash at all but, in fact, Harmon's brand Nail Polish Remover that I was sloshing around my mouth. If you want to know what it felt like, imagine that your mouth is suddenly supporting a small liquid deposit of hatred. If you don’t want to know what it felt like, pretend you never read that.

Then I spit it out so I’m not blind or anything.

So for many years after this event, I couldn’t drink wine, ESPECIALLY white wine because it was just too familiar in that OH MY GOD I HAD THIS TRAUMATIC EXPERIENCE type of way.

But! Now I drink wine with increasing regularity though I don’t know much about it. I really like White Zinfandel but I’m told that this is an extremely lame and immature thing to drink. Still, it tastes good to me, so I drink rosés a lot.

Sorry,

Mackenzie

I Tried Horseradish Vodka and Loved It

I love vinegar. I love mustard, raw red onions, sauerkraut, and horseradish. I eat pickles for breakfast. The very idea of anything sweet in the morning makes me want to die. I drink water with two shots of lime juice in it.

Really, I like to think that I have something in common with the titular character from the movie Alien (i.e. alien) and if you cut open one of my veins it would burn straight through the floor.

I decided recently to start pickling my own veggies. I may branch out later to fruits/herring/what-have-you but for now we're sticking to:

1. Cucumbers (duh)
2. Bell peppers
3. Mushrooms

Now anyone who is a fan of pickled things will immediately cry out, "YOU HAVE LEFT OUT [insert hot pepper variety here], YOU FOOL!" Well, in a strange twist of genetic/cultural fate, I'm not the biggest fan of the spicy foods. Salty? Yes. Sour? Oh yes. Bitter? Marry me. And yet, I can't go past "medium" at an Indian restaurant without risking genuinely NOT enjoying my food. Go figure. Speaking of spicy foods, just the other day I made a stir fry that I shared with my roomie (she insists that it was good so yay!) that contained an entire jalapeno pepper. Which (mental note) is too much for me. HOWEVER. An amazing discovery came out of this. Pairing my homemade spicy Asian food with Leinenkiugel's Berry Weiss beer* turned out not to just good but in fact, GREAT.

*I just found this blog by googling the name of the beer but I thought the article was so funny I had to link to it instead of a picture.

But this is neither here nor there. Back to pickles.


I look forward to pickling the following things in the future:

1. Pears
2. Peaches
3. Chicken

I like using a variety of different vinegars and herbs to liven things up a bit. Also, I cheat & borrow the brine mix from my favorite brand of pickles. Here are some other ingredients I enjoy throwing into the jar:

1. Siracha
2. Blender-ed red onions / chopped red onions
3. Garlic
4. Honey


Sincerely,
And Brine-y Hugs
Mackenzie

Awkward. Period.

Have you ever been in a non-English speaking country and needed a maxipad?

This past summer I went to Budapest & Prague with my parents and had a lovely time. Well, lovely in the sense that even though my family is a little high strung, we all made serious efforts not to throttle one another. NO REALLY, I had a great time.

See? Like the Russian soldier (right) and the Hungarian civilian  (left), my mother and I were able to find peace in a difficult time. That's at Memento Park, in case you're wondering. Anyway, maxipads:

 So I was in Budapest with my family and I got my period. Ugh. So first I looked up the Hungarian word for pharmacy [gyógyszertár--at one point I did know how to pronounce that (Hungarian is a strange language, in fact! my professor Sergey Glebov told me that it is an Uralic language and therefore very closely related to Finnish and Estonian AND people who speak languages in this linguistic family are the most likely ON EARTH to commit suicide!)] and then I had to ask a few different Hungarians for directions in order to find said pharmacy, er, eh hem, gyógyszertár:


left/ balra
right/ jobbra
left / balra
right / jobbra

I finally found a pharmacy.

Dialogue

Me: Hello!
Pharmacist: Hello!
Me: Do you have maxipads?
Pharm: Errrrrrrrr I'm sorry. English not so good. A moment please? She speaks better....[indicating another employee]
Me: Okay! [internationally understood form of agreement]
.....a few moments go by....
2nd Pharm: Hello!
Me: Hello! Do you have maxipads?
2nd Pharm: Errrrrrrrr.....
Me: Okay like....I am having my period?
2nd Pharm: [blank stare]
Man Behind Me in Line: LOL 
Me: Okay. Okay. Ummm. Okay. Like....
Man Behind Me In Line: LOL
Me: Okay...,OKAY HERE WE GO. Every month a woman... [ambiguous gestures]
 2nd Pharm: OH! OH! OH! [retrieves a giant wicker basket FULL of feminine products]
Me: YAY!!!!!!!!!
Pharmarcists: YAY!!!!!


It was a great day for world peace. Except for that fucking guy behind me. Just suck it up man and help me out. You CLEARLY speak both Hungarian and English. Periods aren't weird. Get over yourself.

What does this have to with drinks or dinner? I'll tell you. I'm drunk and eating dinner as I'm writing this.


Also, here is the Hungarian translation of that entire conversation, just for funzos:


Én: Jó napot!
Gyógyszerész: Hello!
Én: Van maxipads?
Gyógyszerész: Errrrrrrrr sajnálom. Angol nem olyan jó. Egy pillanat? Ő jobban beszél ....[ jelzi egy másik alkalmazottal]
Én: Oké! [Nemzetközileg ismert formájában megállapodás] ..... néhány pillanatig menni ....
Másik Gyógyszerész: Hello!
Én: Jó napot! Van maxipads?
Másik Gyógyszerész: Errrrrrrrr .....
Én: Oké, mint .... Én a határidő?
Másik Gyógyszerész: [üres bámulni]
Az ember állt a hátam mögött: LOL
Én: Oké. Oké. Ööö. Oké. Mint ....
Az ember állt a hátam mögött: LOL
Én: Oké ... mint minden hónapban, egy nő, ööö, nos ...
Másik Gyógyszerész: OH! OH! OH! [Letölti egy hatalmas fonott kosár női termékek]
Én: YAY !!!!!!!!!
Gyógyszerészek: YAY !!!!!