Top 10 Cleveland-Themed Halloween Treats

Want to give away something a little more meaningful this year? Stick it to Big Candy by passing out some of these Cleveland-centric treats instead:

1. pink slips
2. tiny vials of Harvey Pekar's tears
3. pierogies stuffed with candy corn
4. copper pipes ("Just don't tell anyone where you got these, OK, kid?")
5. Cleveland pears (like crabapples, only they don't taste as good)
6. bait
7. Christmas Ale (leftover from last year, of course)
   
8. urban chicken eggs
9. quarters to plunk in the slot machines when Issue 3 passes
10. gift vouchers for the Megabus

Marriage: Two Years Later

Today is our second wedding anniversary. Before you start cooing and asking what kind of special romantic evening we've got planned, know that we'll probably just eat hot dogs for dinner because I like hot dogs, and also that I am ruthlessly unsentimental about marriage.

Why am I so unsentimental? I think because I was the only one of my friends growing up whose parents were actually married. I had no illusions. I saw that marriage is not all rosebuds and moonbeams, it is hard work that is much less about romance and much more about friendship, compatible fiduciary values, and having another part of the house to go cool off in when you're mad.

We're not completely without heart, though. This morning after I said "happy anniversary," Jim said, "I'm just glad it coincides with how you scolded that guy who was booing Leonard Cohen's backup singers last night. I don't think I could remember both our wedding anniversary AND the anniversary of your most important act of folk heroism."

National Day on Writing

I just discovered this is the first annual National Day on Writing.

While not specifically about writing, here is a pep talk from Ira Glass on forging ahead and making your work into something presentable:

Favorites of the Week

Here's a short list of things I enjoyed this week:

Seeing Neil Gaiman at the Cleveland Public Library.

Epic Pooh is a classic essay wherein Michael Moorcock criticizes the likes of Winnie the Pooh and Lord of the Rings for being "too cozy." Found this via Wikipedia, and only because I wanted to prove to Jim that I could correctly identify Neil Gaiman's county of origin based on his accent (I was close; he's from West Sussex, not Kent).

Ecumenical Council on Tourism is an organization that looks at the negative impacts the tourism industry has on local economies worldwide. (Casinos, anyone?)

Amanda Palmer is someone I would not have known about if she hadn't been Neil Gaiman's girlfriend. She is tops at turning personal tragedy on its head, and that's something I always applaud in an artist.

Inspector Lewis may not have usurped Cracker in my black, whodunnit-loving heart, but he's something to look forward to on a chilly fall night. Plus, he's made me want to visit Oxford, for sure.

The Sausage Shoppe is one of those places that I've always known about, but had never been to. It's in a tidy brick-lined corner of Old Brooklyn, near Memphis and Pearl. Fall and winter are prime sausage-eatin' months, so stay tuned for recipes.

Take a look at Jim's review of Moon Cleveland.

These Brooklyn bloggers have been experimenting with spending no more than $30 a week on groceries. This concept could have gone so wrong ... but I guarantee you'll find no irritating smugness on their part. Just a lot of good food. (Thanks Cookbook.)

(Speaking of which, I've inadvertently started my own adventure in cheapskatedom: I'm looking for the best red wines under $5 that aren't Two-Buck Chuck. Any suggestions? Drop 'em in the comments.)

Unemployment: Month Three

As time marches on, I spend fewer sleepless nights worrying about myself and more sleepless nights (like this one) worrying about the other jobless people out there -- the ones who have debt and kids and no health insurance, who have an unemployed, underemployed, or disabled spouse, who may have only had three months' worth of savings if they were lucky. What is happening to them at this point in the game? One night I lay there staring at the ceiling, teeth clenched and shuddering about what might happen to a friend of mine, who has a chronic, lifelong congenital condition, if he lost his job and his health insurance. Could he go on his wife's health insurance? Would her company suddenly notice how expensive she'd become, and find a reason to quietly give her the axe?

During the third month of my unemployment, we acquired a washer and dryer. Second to the house, it was the most expensive purchase we'd ever made. We felt every penny of it leaving our bank account in horror-movie slow motion. But after four months' worth of plunking our quarters into the chronically out-of-order machines at the laundromat, this seemed like a good investment. I feel grateful for these darn things every day. That I still have not started to take the Greatest Innovation of 1908 for granted ... well, I feel that somehow, this means I'm on the right track in life.

Plus, I do a lot of laundry, which keeps me busy.

Otherwise, I've been following the example of a young PhD student who, two weeks after the stock market crash of 1929, returned from Europe to find no work and no hope of work. So he retired to Woodstock, where his sister lived in artists' colony, to do nothing but read for the next five years. Now I hope it's not going to take me five years to find another job, but at the same time I can't forget that after five years of intensive immersion in the books and stories that captivated him, this young man became Joseph Campbell.

Cleveland Dreams, Two

Last night I dreamed that Cedar Point was destroyed, and I was wandering through the ruins.

I haven't been to Cedar Point in years. I'm no longer a fan of roller coasters, and never was a fan of spending money. But in the dream I still knew exactly where everything was -- or should have been -- because of that deep-down map that gets imprinted in the imagination of every little child entering a new world of wonders. The one that makes me better at finding my way to Frontier Town than to Cleveland Heights.

There was a dust-to-dust quality about the landscape. This, an ancient voice could have whispered, is how things are meant to look. Except it wasn't quite -- the ground was still paved with concrete so that the sky, the lake, and the ground were all the same shade of grey. Like being in a children's storybook and wandering off the page into oblivion.

(Or at least an oblivion filled with steel girders and track, once painted cheerful colors and now scabbed over with rust, plummeted to the ground and mangled into shapes that would make even Frank Gehry's skin crawl.)

I approached the twisted wreckage of the Witch's Wheel, barely recognizable, with the same horror as a little kid the first time he ever sees the aftermath of a house fire. "That's not what it's supposed to be like," his mind says, in a small voice. "Mommy, what happened? Can someone fix it?" No, they can't. Or, maybe they can, but it will never be quite the same.

That's impermanence for you, son.

Reader's Choice: Pugs

For Mark.

When you gaze into the sappy eyes of a pug, you’re reminded that all God’s critters got a place in the choir. While a golden retriever might contribute a nice brassy baritone, pugs are content with singing the screechy, snuffly bits. They’re the not-so-sharp but well-intentioned kid who brings his flutophone to the symphony.

With the decision to host the 2014 Gay Games in Cleveland, I predict that the opportunities for pug-based small businesses will be enormous. Pugs, the unofficial dog of gay men the world over, will undoubtedly multiply across the city as 2014 approaches. Whole neighborhoods will have to be renamed: Pugland Heights, Pugwood, Pugmont, Wrinkle City.

The pug is, in fact, perfect for Cleveland. Although the origin of the word “pug” is often traced back to the Old English for “affectionate little devil,” it may also share roots with the word “pugilist,” or fighter. And we all know that to live in Cleveland, “you gotta be tough.”

Pugs can be hard to take care of: their wrinkly faces trap more dust than the average mini-blinds. And watch out for the few ‘07 pugs that are still waddling around out there, an adorable accident waiting to happen.

Above all, the pug is a cheerful dog. Put away the expensive antidepressants; one only needs to Google “pugs in funny costumes” when one is feeling blue. (There’s just something about a pug with Yoda ears.) Halloween is when pugs truly come into their own. No, really - take it from pugs.com:

QUESTION: Do Pugs really like to dress up in costumes like I see in all the pictures?
ANSWER: Actually, they usually do. Pugs are very extroverted dogs, and do just about anything for a laugh from their people. If they discover that wearing a costume makes you happy, they'll do it. If it gets them laughter and applause and more attention, that's even better!

I'm finding myself oddly preoccupied....

....so the theme for this week is Readers' Choice. You give me a subject, and I will write about it in 250 words.

36 Hours with a Native: Going Where You're Not Supposed To with Bridget Callahan

Bridget Callahan, 30, is a self-described cubicle worker/fate decider. She grew up on 54th and Clark, on the Near West Side of Cleveland, and has spent most of her life "successfully avoiding habitation anywhere else." Except, she says, "for a year and a half in Phoenix AZ, meth capital of the world and generally nasty place. Cleveland is cheaper and less demanding of my constant attention, plus the seasons change." She has been writing and taking photographs at BridgetCallahan.com since 2007.

When I asked her to describe what Cleveland is about in 50 words or less, Bridget had this to say:

Cleveland exists. It exists with you or without you. It does not falter or sway in its position of being Cleveland. It remains the same no matter how long you abandon it. Cleveland is a Rust Belt Icon, and it is the most constant, most un-romantic ex boyfriend you will ever have.

Of her 36-hour itinerary, Bridget notes:

The last time I was in NYC (like, the only time in...ever), I found myself practically begging my new friends to come visit me here. "The cheapest best vacation ever! Bring the dog!" I shouted. I was mostly just completely and utterly shocked how expensive everything was, especially when nobody was really that much more attractive. So here's me trying to back that up.

FRIDAY
Let's start off by getting some coffee and bread, and going down to Edgewater to eat. No walking. No biking. Just sitting and getting caffeinated, watching the old guys fish off the rocks.

Next we'll hit up the Cleveland Museum of Art, which is free! And it's better to go in the middle of the week, before the crowdy people who don't know how to hover properly around paintings show up. But we have to make sure we're out by 3, cause being stuck in traffic is not what I wanted to show you.

Then it's back to the West Side, to have dinner at Sahara Restaurant on Lorain for really awesome Lebanese food. Since I kept you hungry all day, we'll also get some East Coast custard and drive around Rocky River Metroparks listening to music and finding a good place to let the dog run around. [editor's note: if you add clove cigarettes and Renaissance music, this is how I spent most of high school.]

And if you're still up for doing stuff other than watching episodes of Angel while drinking (a completely normal Cleveland thing to do), we'll go get drunk at Now That's Class and watch some weirdo bands doing weirdo things.

SATURDAY
I assume we're hungover, I am anyway. But I know you're going to kill me if I don't take you to the West Side Market. We'll get some coffee and wander around buying random types of cheese and beef jerky to eat later. Then a tour of the Flats, starting with the glass factory at the bottom of Jefferson Hill, and ending up at the Temple of Lost Love. Then back up the hills to get some sandwiches at La Bodega in Tremont, stop in at Visible Voice Books to say hi to Jeff and hang out. More coffee at Civilization, and then the abandoned Clothcraft building! It's super easy to get into, I promise. And later, after we change and shower, we'll go see somebody play some music at Brothers Lounge.

SUNDAY
Lucky's Cafe for brunch, and then a little road trip out to Virginia Kendall State Park to be happy and gleeful about the glacial rocks. Be sloth like for a few hours upon our return. Go check out Flower Child and Suite Lorain. Ty Fun for dinner, and Crop Bistro for dessert and drinks. Then I'm sure, drunk as I will be, I will make you wander down to the river and look at that old wooden cabin. Cause I love that damn thing.