Commuter Shoes: The End of an Era

Friday was my last day as a Metra commuter. When I bought my house, I drew a one mile radius from the three Elgin train stations. My goal was to live within a mile - easy walking distance - of a train to ease my commute downtown as much as possible.

After living in Chicago for seven years, moving to the farthest reach of the suburbs was a shock to the system. My commute grew to an average of about 80 minutes - ten minute walk from the house to the train, 60 minutes on the express train, and about a ten minute walk to the office downtown. Another 25 minutes could easily be tacked on if I deigned to work late or go out after work, stranding me on a non-express train, watching the freight trains breeze past.

I learned a lot from my train commuter days, though. The train becomes almost like family, in a way, with the same characters sitting in the same seats five days a week. You learn the rhythms of the train, the cadence of the conductors and what it means when you slow down through Franklin Park. In November, you pass the Ringling Brothers' circus train, nearly a mile long, parked just west of the city. In the dead of dark winter evenings, the strategically set fires light the night like fireworks, keeping the switches from freezing. Passing just south of O'Hare, there's a steady stream of planes landing and taking off - you can see them queued up for miles off toward the horizon.

You learn that if you typically finish the main news section of the Chicago Tribune around Itasca, though on Mondays and Tuesday, it may be as soon as Schaumburg. By Friday, when the paper is larger, the Elgin Courier may not get read until the train ride home. Occasionally there would be entire weeks where nothing sounded appealing, so I'd do the crossword puzzle and Sudoku from the morning papers. If I had work to do - especially editing - I'd tackle it on the way home, since working on an express train was preferable to staying late at the office and then taking a slower milk train home.

At first, entertaining yourself for the commute is almost fun. Finally, a chance to read, uninterrupted, every single weekday! I got into the very comfortable routine of bringing coffee and reading both newspapers in the morning. In the evenings, I would usually read for pleasure, either a novel or magazine (National Review or Verbatim). Over time, though, I would grow antsy with the sheer length of the commute, especially when nice weather beckoned. In winter, it didn't seem to bother me as much, since regardless of when I got home, it was cold, dark and miserable. In summer, though, with beautiful sunshine rapidly diminishing, I couldn't wait to get home, and the train would seem to creep through suburb after suburb.

Overall, I like Metra. It's clean, safe, relatively quiet and usually on time. Since I live out in the boondocks, I always got a seat in the morning, often on the upper deck where I could sit in a single seat and spread out with my newspapers. Coming home, especially lately since gas prices have been rocketing up, it's been increasingly difficult to get a seat, but leaving work five minutes earlier helped.

Plus, my years commuting fueled my first (and thus far only) novel, Commuter Shoes. It was written for National Novel Writing Month in 2006 and comprises a series of vignettes about fictionalized characters I saw on my daily commute. The title comes from my observation that suburban women who commute to the city often have a pair or two of commuter shoes that they reserve for the trip, carrying dress shoes with them or having a stockpile at the office to change into. Commuter shoes are often tennis shoes or the newish athliesure shoes, allowing comfortable walking and the occasional sprint to the train. I recently had a whopping eleven pairs of shoes under my desk at work.

But over time, I was nagged by a voice in my head, whining, "Are we there yet?" I never really slept on the train, always afraid I'd sleep past my stop. But I'd stare out the window in bored exhaustion from my day, anxious to just be home.

As I hunted for a new job, I pondered whether I wanted to stay downtown and remain a Metra girl, or if I wanted to be driving distance. I ended up finding one in Schaumburg, about a 35 minute drive from home. I accepted the offer, hoping that the drive wouldn't hurt. There appear to be a different possibilities for routing myself that I'll have to explore and time. Even though it will likely be relatively heavy traffic - as it was the morning I interviewed and clocked the drive at 35 minutes - I'll still be home sooner in the evening and leave later in the morning. And that's appealing to me. I envision going to more City Council meetings, finally joining the book club at the library I've eyed for the last year and doing more with my evenings without having to dash out of work early or plan ahead and work from home.

I would commute on Metra again, but maybe not from the far reaches of a line. If I could afford to live closer to Chicago and could buy a place near one of the closer stations - say no farther than zone D (vs H, as Elgin is), that might be okay. But for now, I hope I've made the right choice.

We shall see. The driving era begins Monday.

Mower Wars: The Finale

After months and months of frustration with my reel mower, I finally caved and bought a real mower. Mind you, I didn't go the full-fledged gas guzzling route. Rather, I went with my alterna-yuppie tendencies and bought an electric mower. My yard is small enough that even the far edges are reachable with a 100 foot extension cord. Plus, an electric engine is far more environmentally friendly and doesn't entail the sparkplugs, flooding threat and other hassles of a more traditional gas mower.

I started my research a couple weeks ago with a stop at Lowes. I had nearly made up my mind that I wanted to go the electric route, but I wanted to actually see an example. While there, I snagged a brochure, jotted my notes and weighed the relative merits of each. The kindly Lowes employee - an older gentleman - came by to offer his sage advice: "Women usually prefer the self-propelled. They're less work." Now, there would have been plenty of other ways to suggest that upsell without inserting the gender aspect. He could have mentioned a number of features that may merit the higher cost. Instead, when I explained that I was interested in an electric and asked for the difference between the two models on display, he tried again: "You know, electric means you have to mess with a cord. You should really consider a self-propelled." I smiled, thanked him and walked out.

Later that week, I again mowed with my reel mower. Even after cross-cutting the lawn, it was still uneven and looked ragged. Over the next ten days, it grew and grew and grew as unrelenting rain prevented me from cutting. So Saturday morning, I set off to (a different) Lowes and its neighboring Home Depot, notepad in hand, and compared the scarce few models available at each. I came home and discovered that my leading front runner was $30 cheaper on Amazon, with no sales tax and free shipping! Nearly ready to Add to Cart, I stopped by Menards while I was out running other errands. Success! They had a very comparable model on sale for even less money. I snagged it and brought it home.

Sunday morning, I donned my grubby yard clothes, did the small amount of necessary assembly and sat down to unravel the extension cord. With it sufficiently untangled, I ran into the screened porch to plug it in. Suddenly, for the eleventh day in a row, the skies opened. Within the next two minutes, as I frantically pulled everything back to the garage, thunder rumbled and lightning brought torrents of hail. I sighed and went about my day. By the time I got home from a Cougars game, the sun had been out long enough to make things nice and steamy, while drying out the lawn. I mowed my lawn with the words of reviewers in my head. It did look like I was vacuuming my lawn! But in a relatively quick span, the lawn was nice and even and looked better than it has since I've lived in this house.

I'm sad to give up my defiant reel mower. But the resulting lush suburban grass makes it worth it.

And besides, I can keep using the reel mower on the slower-growing, shaded backyard - just to keep it real.

Easy Electric

I bought my timer switch last weekend, read the directions, and realized that it may be a better daylight project since it entailed cutting power to the circuit with the hall light.

Finally, I got around to it today. I cut power - thanks to some previous owners for meticulously labeling the breaker box with "Living room - South Wall" type detail - and tested my switch to make sure it was good and dead.

I pulled off the faceplate - there are three switches right there - and evaluated the situation. The switch had obviously been there since the Carter administration (at least), as it took some prying to expose the poof balls of black schmutz and insulation. The switch wasn't grounded at all. After a minute of gentle tugging, I realized wire snips were the easiest way to cut the old wire from the switch - after I triple-checked that the power was indeed off.

One of the joys of an old house is the old wiring. While the breaker box has been updated, some of the internal wiring is, well, old (and I have some old, retired outlets to prove it!). The wires in the wall are wrapped in black cloth. I used my wire snips again to gently peel back about half an inch of insulation so I could fit the wire into the caps with the new switch wires. I lined up the wires, made my connections, grounded the thing (an improvement already!) and then struggled to get all the new wires back into the hole. I kept at it until the (much whiter) new timer switch was nearly flush with its old, almond neighbors. Then it dawned on me that before I finished the arduous tightening, I should probably turn the power on and make sure that everything was connected right. Success!

In many ways, the hardest part of the whole project was getting the faceplate back in place and lined up. It's still not quite perfectly flush, since the new switch is a tad larger than the old ones, but it gets the job done. I set the program - lights on at sunset, off at 2 AM - and we're good to go.

It was my very first solo electric project - hooray!

More windows

One week into summer (going by the Memorial Day standard), I've got nearly all of my windows at least quasi-operational. Yesterday, Don helped me with the living room window which, while pretty (its wood is stained to exactly match the rest of the living room), is a trainwreck as far as operation is concerned. The sashes are so old that it doesn't reliably stay up without the aid of a stick - a concern due to the cat.* This is also one of the worst as far as wind and cold leakage, compounded by its location directly behind the couch. Opening it in the summer requires a delicate ballet of sliding the storm window up to balance on top of the new screen - all while holding the window itself up so it doesn't come crashing down. Plus, to reach it, I have to balance on the back of the couch. Having a second set of hands is immensely helpful.

The only windows still not operational are the upstairs bathroom which is still sealed shut (and also sashcordless), one of the paired back hall windows (which has a horribly rusted and broken screen), and the larger of the office windows (which has no fitting screen). Oh, and there's one more in the back hall that I can't reach, since it's perched above the stairs, so it's a moot point anyway.

I plan to scrape the last of the removable caulk from the upstairs bathroom, though I hope to soon have the money to completely replace the whole bathroom. The way the window's frame is bisected by the wall with the shower plumbing, replacing that window requires a ton more work - one that a new bathroom can fix.

Overall, by my count, I have four new windows in the house (two each in my bedroom and the kitchen), six old ones in the main living area, two in the basement, and a whopping eleven geriatrics on the porch. The living room window is first on the list for replacement, and I'll also replace the two cracked window panes on the porch. From there, it's up to budget.

*Right after I moved in two years ago, the cat was hanging out in one of the porch windows that we knew was sashless but "seemed to stay in place just fine," in the words of my ex. One morning, we heard the most blood-curdling yowls. The window had fallen and trapped Collette. In her haste to escape, Collette's back paw had gotten stuck in the window, and she was hanging, dangling, flaying her other three paws against the wall, trying to get traction. Once we freed her, she slinked off to drip blood all over the new carpet and didn't walk normally for a couple weeks. To this day, she occasionally stops and shakes out the affected paw - I think it was likely a broken toe. Since then, if a window lacks operational sashes, it either remains shut or is firmly propped into place.

Next Up: A Timer

I like having my front porch lights on when I come home in the dark, especially in winter. Plus, studies show that a block whose homes are lit up have less crime. In my neighborhood, it sure can't hurt. And since I switched to the snazzy new CFL bulbs, the electricity impact is relatively negligible - though I did discover, less than two weeks after installing the first pair, that they are susceptible to brownouts.

In winter in northern Illinois, it gets dark by 4:30, long before I get home from work. Around Christmas, I string up Christmas lights on the inside of my porch windows and use a plug-in timer so they come on at sunset and go off about bedtime. I flip on the porch light when I get home. In summer, I flip on the light when it gets dark - lately around 8:30. But in summer, I wake up to blazing sunshine at 6 AM - and the porchlights are still on.

This weekend, my friend Sarah was showing off all the great updates her dad helped her with recently, one of which was a neat automatic timer for the front lights. Rather than plugging into an outlet, it's designed to fit in the existing switch slot. The model she got can be programmed for your timezone, whether or not you adjust for Daylight Savings, and your local area. From there, she was able to set it to have her lights on from dusk to dawn - exactly what I'm looking for.

I think I'll stop by Home Depot and pick one up.

Failure

The great sharpening experiment has failed. Saturday, I excitedly mowed my lawn. Yep, the blades are sharper, but the cut is still horribly uneven. My lawn looks like (shorter) crap. I'm weighing my options for next steps.

In happier news, I planted a tomato plant in one of my big clay pots that line the driveway, as well as numerous herbs - basil, oregano, cilantro and dill. I plan to add a bell pepper plant in the next few days, once I find a worthy candidate.

It's been another beautiful day that triggers my allergies, but that didn't stop me from my inaugural 5 mile bike ride through the my and neighboring neighborhoods.

Springtime Wandering

On this beautiful sunny day, I strolled through the neighborhood, buoyed by Claritin. This was the first such destinationless stroll this year, and it was divine. The air was clean and crisp - a nice 65 degrees with a slightly nipping wind in the shade, but beautiful sun permeated the trees.

I had nowhere to go or be, so I meandered through streets I don't usually wander through. I deviated from the main streets and drank in the neighborhood in springtime. It was all very suburban - kids galore, out on bikes and kicking soccer balls around. There were even a couple moments reminiscent of driver's ed videos, with kids darting into the street after a wiffleball without checking for traffic. But you can get away with that through much of the neighborhood.

There were blocks of old houses like mine, and a few blocks of identical ranches houses with only slight variations on shutter color and front door placement. There were a couple blocks of all brick homes, built in the 20s to replace the blocks destroyed by Elgin's infamous 1920 Palm Sunday tornado.

I walked past tiny local businesses I never realized were there in my car-fueled haste. I stopped into Herb's Bakery, which I've heard so much about, only to find their selection picked over and sparse. I never realized just how many tiny auto repair shops are in the neighborhood. I suppose it comes with being a less affluent area. I also passed dozens of homes for sale, and a couple with the tell-tale signs of foreclosure - including one on my corner.

But that's what I love about Elgin and my neighborhood. There's so much diversity in the houses and the people who live in them. When I was house-hunting, I was adamant about not wanting to live in a cookie-cutter subdivision where an overzealous homeowners' association dictates house colors and suitable flowers for planting. Sure, the lack of such covenants does open the door for the occasional teal house or the pink bodega, and you get your fair share of tall, unkempt lawns - but it always provides conversation. For example, in my neighborhood, there's a parakeet house, where the screened in front porch is filled with at least a dozen cages packed with the birds. You can hear it a block away!

I'm looking forward to many more such walks in the warming weather. I bike a lot, too, but even at 10 mph, you miss a lot of the details.