bintlog v2.0
Friday, June 17, 2005
The Great Southwest
Southwest suburbs, that is. After a week of not getting more than 2 or 3 uninterrupted hours of sleep at a time thanks to various dog issues, I dragged myself out of bed and drove to the Palos Forest Preserve to hunt for plants. Did I find any? Well, not the ones I was looking for. It was very discouraging. However, I did see other things:

The advancing edge of the cloud mass that made my day cool and dreary. Incidentally, taking pictures while driving is not recommended. I wonder if the limo driver thought I was an international spy?

I found this little guy in Rubio Woods. Spent some time pondering the nature of fear and wondered if he was afraid of me, or if I was just one more thing to look at in this new and interesting world. His mom of course was all about the fear, and lit out of there with her tail flashing the moment I came near.

A sign on an empty lot at the corner of Cicero and 147th St. Hard to imagine that this sign was appealing even in its heyday. In fact, as I drove Cicero all the way from 147th to Irving Park (that's 187 blocks, or 23.375 miles, for those keeping track), I found much of the southwest suburbs to be pretty soul-killingly dreary. It reminded me of big chunks of Detroit, your typical commercial strips from the days before strip malls. Fast food, liquor stores, family restaurants, insurance agents, marching in endless ranks along a busy 6-lane street with stoplights every block. I continue to be amazed by all the little 1950s motels that are still in business ("Air conditioning! Switchboard!"). Who stays at those places? Are they on Expedia? Or do they all subsist on the hourly-rate trade?


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