ChiKat

These days, with my arthritis pain in full swing, I haven't felt like leaving the house that much. Instead, I hang out inside with my boy, cooing at him and cuddling with him.

Across the street, there is a new building going up. I've been watching the construction with vague interest. There were a bunch of burly, grizzly looking men who dug up the earth to make room for the basement. Then a bunch of large, old men came to lay the foundation. Now the brick-layers are on site. Interestingly enough, brick-layers are young, fit, tan men. The view isn't so bad. I'm suddenly much more interested in the construction of the site than I was a few weeks ago…

I ache everywhere. I can't curl my toes because they are swollen. My ankles crackle when I walk. My knees send shooting pain up my legs when I try to stand up. My fingers look like sausages. My writes have jutting bumps that are red and warm. My shoulders can hardly support my baby when I am burping him.

All in all, arthritis sucks. Time to go back on the restricted diet. It's hard enough to cut out dairy and sugar. But these days I visit family so much more. I already feel bad demanding a vegetarian diet. Putting further restrictions on what I can eat while visiting them is such a hassle. But the arthritis pain has really gotten out of control. I don't want my son to see me constantly wincing in pain. I have to fix this.

Yesterday, when my husband was walking home from work, he saw a family being evicted from their condo. It was pretty ugly, with lots of yelling and furniture strewn across the yard, sidewalk and street.

The building I live in is still recovering from two units being foreclosed more than a year ago.

The Wall Street Journal just ran an article about the rise in subprime mortgages. According to the WSJ, "African-Americans were between 6% and 29% more likely to get higher-rate loans than white borrowers with the same credit quality."

That's 2006 data. I'm reading a book about urban housing in the 70's, and it faults unequal lending practices as one of the biggest reasons that black neighborhoods in Chicago have had so many problems with poverty and foreclosures.

Thirty years later and there is still unequal lending. It hurts families. It hurts communities. In my mind, it goes against everything this country is supposed to be about. But when I watch the Republican debates and they ask Mitt Romney what he dislikes about America, he says, "Gosh, I love America. I'm afraid I'm going to be at a loss for words...".

Dude. Let me help you out. You can love America, but still hate the poverty that exists here. You can love America, but strive to end the racism that still exists.

I feel like Republicans are totally unwilling to admit that anything is wrong with the country, for fear of being labeled "unpatriotic". I can be patriotic and still want to make our country a better place.

Hmmm…apparently, this has become a blog that is updated on a weekly basis. I'm not sure when I'm going to get back to daily postings. Maybe when my son goes to college.

Things with my husband's job are going ok. Now that he has handed in his notice, he is his boss' new best friend. ??? Yeah, we can't figure it out either. His boss doesn't want him to stay, but is super nice to my husband now that my husband quit. It's very strange.

My husband is updating his resume. Hopefully he will submit it to some new places soon. He's totally burnt out and sick of dealing with career stuff, so he is dragging his feet on finding a new job. I'm waffling between being the super supportive wife (with a touch of "please, don't ask me to get my own full time job" thrown in) and mildly hysterical wife because we don't know what will happen at the end of July.

I'm not freaking out for financial reasons. I just hate not knowing what he will be doing and if we have to move.

I have suburban girlfriends and city girlfriends. My suburban girlfriends rock. They have given me wonderful baby advice, lots of support and are a ton of fun. But their experience as moms is often different than the city experience.

My suburban girlfriends all recommend the high-end convertible stroller, which is designed like a mini-tank. I looked into it and found out it weighed 35 pounds. When you live in a house, a 35 pound stroller isn't a big deal. When you live on the third floor, it is a very big (heavy) deal.

When you live in the house, you have a wonderful thing called a basement. That means they can randomly say, "Oh, I have the perfect thing for you that I used once a few years ago and have since kept in my basement for just this occasion…"

I have a closet and a dresser for storage. That's it. I can't imagine what it is like to have the luxury of keeping stuff just because it might possibly come in handy for someone else in a few years.

Until now, none of my city girlfriends have had kids. However, I just found out that one of them is pregnant. I'm beyond thrilled. It will be so nice to have someone who can relate to the space challenges, the public transportation challenges and the three-flights-of-stairs challenges.