PaperGirl Blog by Mary Fons

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28 Sep 2014

Paris In Chicago.

by Mary | posted in: Chicago | 0

Chicago's Old Water Tower - don't call it a comeback. — Chicago’s Old Water Tower – don’t call it a comeback.

I’ve arrived in Chicago in order to see my doctor tomorrow. Will the hospital admit me? Quite possibly. I’m ready for anything.

Yuri has come to be with me for the anything. We met at Midway late last night and took flying leaps into each others’ arms. I’m betting there were bluebirds of happiness flying around our heads, but I was too busy smiling like a dweeb at him to confirm it. The man looks good. He needs some home cookin’, but he looks real, real good to me.

And though we’re at a beautiful hotel in the fancy-schmance Gold Coast for the next two days, I do feel like a guest in my own house. Yuri and I will return to Chicago after the New York adventure, pending a few key transitional things in the hopper; until then, Chicago is looking at me with sad dog eyes and I’m defensive and short with it, saying things like, “I know! I’m just… Just don’t… Stop looking at me like that, would you?”

That uncomfortable conversation was playing in my head this afternoon when I walked to Walgreen’s for toothpaste. I was at Michigan Avenue and Chicago, right by the Chicago Avenue Water Tower and Pumping Station, a.k.a., “Old Water Tower.” This castle-like structure, with its finials and its flourishes is one of the few bits of construction in the entire city that survived the Great Chicago Fire 1871. Not bad for a big ol’ pipe.

There was a family walking behind me and suddenly I hear a girl of about six cry with unhinged delight,

“It’s the Eiffel Tower!!! Mommy! Mommy, look, it’s the Eiffel Tower!!!”

The mother, father, and only slightly older sister tried to tell the child that no, no, that was the Water Tower, but the girl was having none of it.

“But Mommy! It’s the Eiffel Tower!”

You bet it is, squirt. It’s our Eiffel Tower. When you’re older, I could share with you that the Ferris Wheel — I’m sure your folks have taken you to the Ferris Wheel at Navy Pier, non? — debuted in Chicago at the World’s Fair in 1893. Well, Mr. Ferris designed his Wheel to rival the grandeur and splendor of the Eiffel Tower that you’re talking about. I think he did pretty well, especially since you can go up to the top of the Eiffel Tower, but you can’t swing your legs.

26 Sep 2014

Video: A Course In Quilty — Starts Sept. 29th!

by Mary | posted in: Quilting, Work | 0

Starting on Monday and for the next six weeks, you can enroll in an online course, designed by me, to will teach you how to make beautiful, accurate patchwork. It’s fun. It’s relaxed. It’s Quilty time, is what I’m saying.

Enjoy this nifty video I made the other day about the course. I hope to see you in class.

🙂
Mary

http://iframesrc=//player.vimeo.com/video/107298483width=500height=281frameborder=0webkitallowfullscreenmozallowfullscreenallowfullscreen/iframepahref=http://vimeo.com/107298483ACourseInQuilty:Let'sMakePatchwork–StartingSept.29th!/afromahref=http://vimeo.com/user25411909MaryFons/aonahref=https://vimeo.comVimeo/a./p

24 Sep 2014

On (Not) Hating Your Body.

by Mary | posted in: Day In The Life, Fashion, Tips, Travel | 2

While washing my hands in the bathroom of the Des Moines Airport, I overheard two girls of seventeen or eighteen having this conversation:

GIRL A: I’m 136 right now. Which isn’t too bad, I guess.
GIRL B: No…
GIRL A: But this summer —
GIRL B: What were you this summer?
GIRL A: 128? 127?

The anxiety was palpable. Both of the girls were pretty, even dressed as they were in sweatpants and UGG boots.

The weight conversation pained me for reasons that tangled up in my head as I lathered up at the sink. I felt first the Ms. Magazine stab, angry that young girls were wasting breath on an eight-pound fluctuation in weight while they’re clearly still forming. I felt a stab of nostalgia for an age I will never be again; seventeen was lousy in some ways (e.g., school, acne, etc.) but so great in others (e.g., inventing sex.) I’m ashamed to admit that there was a flicker of jealousy (or envy? I never know the difference) as I glanced at their tanned wrists and thick hair. I feel so poor today, so compromised — I had a pretty grim setback last night. Ah, but to be a young adult in good health is a beautiful thing — for a split second, I longed to change places with either of those kids.

The pair also reminded me of a promise I made to myself many years ago. At Mayo Clinic in 2008, in the darkest hour of that period, in a lucid moment — there were many moments I was not present for — I looked down at my infected ileostomy site, at the four different IR drains woven through my belly and rear, the IV, the PICC line, and all the bruises and my rapidly disappearing pounds of flesh and I said, “If I get through this, I will never hate on my body again. I promise. I will never complain that I feel fat, I will never say I look bad. I will love myself.”

I have not kept that promise. I still complain that my thighs aren’t toned enough. I worry about my hips. I try various Retinol treatments to improve the quality of my complexion, which is never satisfactory, ever. The desire to measure up to a beauty ideal has shown itself to be — at least in me — stronger than the memory of all that mortal devastation. And it’s about the saddest thing I can tell you.

It’s good to look your best. You’ve only got one life: Dress for it. And eat right because you’ll feel better if you do.

But girls, girls, girls. Ain’t nothing wrong with you.

23 Sep 2014

Whistle a Neptune: On This Day In History

by Mary | posted in: Tips | 0

Neptune and Amphitrite, by Renaissance painter Paris Bordone (1500-1571.) The planet Neptune was just round and blue, so I went in another direction. — Renaissance painter Paris Bordone (1500-1571) with his “Neptune and Amphitrite.” The actual *planet* Neptune is just round and blue, so I went with this.

On this day in 1846, Johann Gottfried Galle discovered Neptune.

You know how, when you’re flipping channels in your hotel room, and you land on an episode of The Cosby Show, it’s the same episode of The Cosby Show you saw like five years ago when you were flipping channels in your hotel room? The one where Rudy finds the baby bird, right? Yeah, me, too.

It’s the same with the “On this day in history…” thing. On this day in history, some scientist discovered a planet. Every time. Could be Venus. Could be Neptune. But it’s always a planet discovery and those guys always have three names.

I took a terrific astronomy course at the University of Chicago. (I’m taking a leave of absence from pursuing my MLA at the moment, obviously.) I learned about red shift and wrote my term paper on Pluto’s demotion, and I went to Fermilab and everyone got a little colder because the universe is expanding. It was great, but we didn’t spend any time on Neptune. Since today is Neptune’s sorta-birthday, I thought I’d find out a few things about it.

FACT: The most violent weather in our solar system is on Neptune. It’s bananas up there.

FACT: Fourteen moons. (Do you think our human experience would be significantly different if Earth had a handful more moons? Like, culturally speaking?)

FACT: It doesn’t appear that anyone who could go (read: astronauts) is planning to visit Neptune anytime soon. Neptune has made no comment, but that could be because its just trying to keep warm.

You’re welcome!

22 Sep 2014

List: 10 Things I’m Going To Do When I Get Back To New York City

by Mary | posted in: Chicago, Day In The Life, New York City | 2

I frequently google image search "kitten in a pocket" or "kitten in a sock." And I can do that from anywhere. — I frequently google image search “kitten in a pocket” or “kitten in a sock.” And I can do that from anywhere.

1. Make Yuri dinner.
Before I left for Atlanta, I made food for Yuri and packed it lovingly into labeled containers and stacked it all in the freezer. I’m sure he’s gone through it all by now and has moved onto Operation: Chipotle Every Day. (My darling!!)

2. Make Yuri breakfast.
When we first began living in sin, I wowed this man with my oatmeal-making skills. “Do you like oatmeal?” I asked him. He said that he didn’t, exactly, but that he knew how good it was for him, so he could choke it down. Not a ringing endorsement for oatmeal, but then, he had never had my oatmeal. When I served up piping hot organic oats with real cream, slivered almonds, dried blueberries and a scoop of soft brown sugar, well. Yuri likes oatmeal, now.

3. Make Yuri laugh.

4. Do an Aztec Mud Mask.
Yuri has this jar of weird “Aztec” clay powder that you mix with (smelly) vinegar and smear all over your face. It hardens in 15 minutes and when you wash it off, you have skin smooth as a baby’s for at least five minutes.

5. Get a glass of wine with my sister Nan at Bar Veloce.
Bar Veloce only serves wine and beer (and small sandwiches?? I can’t remember.) It’s kinda snobby but also kinda great, and you know all the wine is fresh. It better be, sister, at those prices!

6. See my NYC doctors and make sure they’re talking to my Chicago doctors.

7. Go to a live taping of an Intelligence Squared Debate!!
It’s not happening till November, but I am already wiggling. Google “Intelligence Squared Debates” and read all about it. Then look at the debate for November 13th. Andrew Solomon is of my favorite authors of all time and is possibly one of the smartest people alive and writing today — and he’s a freaking panelist that night. Live IQ2 and Andrew Solomon on the same night? The topic is less important than the event itself. Andrew Solomon could be debating whether quinoa is a seed or a grain and I’d be riveted. I will be in wannabe-intellectual, academiac heaven that night and I can’t wait.

8. Sew.

9. Catch Mickey so he doesn’t eat my quilts.

10. Try to get my head around New York City.
Because I haven’t, yet. Not really. Confession: Every plane trip I’ve taken since June, if I could avoid it, I’ve tried to not fly through Chicago. It’s too painful. I miss her terribly. I can’t bear to see Midway Airport because Midway Airport is so close to my home, my real home, in the South Loop. I ache for Chicago, I long for her shores. When I go back to New York, I must embrace New York again, go to the monolith differently; open up anew. There’s more than enough there for me, but if I don’t want it, I’ll be tossed nothing but scraps.

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