The good news: Marina City has 1960s state-of-the-art architecture. The bad news: Marina City has 1960s state-of-the-art technology.
When you live and work downtown, those lunchtime eateries we all frequent on weekdays merit added importance–and scrutiny. Comparing Oasis middle-eastern takeout with Marshall Field’s food court on opposite sides of Wabash, the one spectacularly worth making a special trip for is not the one you might think.
The street work that closed the Wabash Avenue Bridge is coming to an end. As the cute little sand tubers exit the east end of IBM Plaza and cars return, something else will exit, too: quiet.
I never thought that bad balcony behavior at Marina City could any get worse. Well, tie me up in rope lights, folks, because the corncobs have reached an explosive new low: fireworks dropped from high-rise floors.
Ever since I became a home cook, I’ve wanted to try my hand at coq au vin. This Saturday with Devyn, I finally took the plunge. We both agreed it’s one of the best things I’ve ever made. Here’s the recipe.
Being a good Marina Citizen, there are things that I just won’t do on my 175-square-foot, petal-shaped, 38th-floor balcony. Trouble is, the younger set has no tolerance for convention. From the ground, nothing would belie our beloved corncobs’ monumental mid-century modern style. But looking from one balcony to another, it’s a whole different world.
Open your mouth about the impending corporate murder of the Marshall Field’s nameplate by the evil retail overlords at Federated and some heartbroken local will immediately insert their foot and claim the real Marshall Field’s is no more. Is that so?
The way to a man’s heart is most assuredly through his stomach and let no one steer you wrong about this. Our grandmothers knew what they were talking about when they passed on this failsafe gem. All you need is a game plan. Here’s mine.
Today at work I received a link to an astounding photo essay of the day-by-day effects of Hurricane Katrina on New Orleans. It was created by Alvaro Villa, a trapped resident of the French Quarter, and includes an ongoing narrative of the situation, as it grew worse and worse.
It has been four years since I felt moved by both the pain and the passion of a city. Then it was due to the terrorist disaster that befell my hometown, New York. This time, though, there’s the federal government to blame–for the atrocious response to the the Hurricane Katrina disaster in New Orleans.