Pirate Papa.

My dad's birthday is tomorrow.  Since the USPS is rather unpredictable on making the trip from Chicago to Colorado, I always try to mail any cards a week in advance.  This time, that meant that it got there a few days early, which was perfect as my family held my dad's birthday dinner early rather than on the actual day. I try to find unusual cards generally speaking but was particularly pleased with my find for this year: it was a pirate hat, complete with eye patch and parrot.  On the card, I told my dad that I fully expected him to be wearing the hat while eating his birthday cake -- no arrrrrrrrrg-uments accepted.

My dad is nothing if not a good sport when it comes to silly requests from me:

There you have it -- the western pirate look.  I actually think he is rocking it.  Maybe he was a pirate in a past life.

Goodie Bag.

I love me a goodie bag.  Usually, they are filled with sample sizes of things I don't ever intend to use.  Doesn't make me love them any less.  I don't think I'm alone in this -- free.99 is a pretty awesome price.

Last week I attended the launch of a restaurant in the Loop called Vapiano.  I learned that it is the 133rd location of this predominantly European chain.  It was a super fun event.  Great DJ, fun people, the servers and kitchen staff came out at one point to show off their pre-opening dance routines (they have a dance party every morning), and they were really pushing the food and drink.  In my experience, you usually leave a restaurant opening hungry.  Not this time.  Full bowls of pasta for everyone.  If you liked your slice of pizza, they brought you a whole pizza the next time they came by.  In addition to people pouring wine, there were just bottles everywhere for self-help.  Pretty incredible display of free.99.

But, the best part for me was the goodie bag:

Yup, a rosemary and  a basil plant.  Technically, it was supposed to be one or the other, but we are friends with the girl who was doing the PR for the party and she relieved us from having to make the tough choice between the wonderful basil but hardier rosemary.

Hump Day.

Don't judge me but this commercial makes me happier than a camel on Wednesday.

Guess what day it is.

Twins.

It was bound to happen.

M and I live in the same building and work in the same building.  We have a similar aesthetic in clothes and homes (obviously).  She is more stylish than me but we share a similar sense of the basics.  And, a love for the Banana.

Tonight was the triumphant return of Taco Tuesday. The first time in a couple months.  Neither of us had seen each other during the day nor have we shopped together, or talked shopping, in awhile.  So, when I saw her through the door as we were going to meet to talk to dinner, I burst out laughing.

We were wearing the same dress.  Styled differently but for both of us it was the inaugural wearing of a Banana dress that we both had used a 40% off coupon to get.

Honestly, I'm surprised it hasn't happened earlier as we have owned the same piece of clothing at the same time previously.  We both thought it was funny so we went to dinner as twins.  We had one delighted restaurant owner and one drunk guy who were both amused and fascinated by the matching dresses.  I like the dress.  I like it on her.  And, I think it is funny on both of us.

Win, win, win.

Better Late Than Never, Summer.

It has been a long, slow climb toward summer here this year.  Every time the weather would flirt with the idea of acting like summer, a big storm system would come through and knock it back down.  Which is why it took over three weeks since the pool opened for me to go for my inaugural visit as a member.

Yesterday was not exactly a perfect pool day but it was close enough: passing clouds, kind of breezy and about 80 when the sun was not obscured.  M had a free hour so we packed up our towels, pulled out the sunblock, grabbed our books and we were off to the pool.  Despite it not being quite a pool day, it seemed like A LOT of people had the same idea as us about ripping off the summer band-aid as the place was pretty packed.

It was really quite delightful.  I was there only about an hour but that was long enough for my pale skin to get a light pinking.  It was funny to watch the little kids do little kid things.  I had to ask M what we did in the pre-noodle days  because I honestly couldn't remember.  I know we didn't have noodles when we were kids but it seemed like everyone -- both kids and adults -- were using them.  Her response: we actually swam.  Oh, right.  Shark and minnows.  Marco polo.  Ring diving.

Good times.

Planting Day!

Today was finally planting day!  We had thought about making our annual trip up to Andersonville three weeks ago but I was out of town.  We were then going to go during Memorial weekend but circumstances combined to make that impractical.  So, while slightly belated compared to years past, on June 1, we have our flowers.

Even though we knew that it would likely be fairly busy at the flower place, we decided to stick without our usual morning workouts and then go, rather than go first thing in the morning like we did last year.  As we learned then, it doesn't change how busy the place is and then we don't get our ice cream cone because 10:00 am is just too early for ice cream.

This is our fourth year (surprisingly to me) and we have finally got it figured out.  It took us longer to get there -- and get a space in the parking lot -- than it took us to select our flowers and checkout.  Two and a half flats of impatiens plus half a flat of assorted other stuff plus one large bag of potting soil equals a fully planted balcony.  And, that is the only arithmetic I need to do today.

And, while it took two tries, we got our delicious McDonald's vanilla cones this year.  The girl working the drive through was markedly less enthusiastic than we were about them but I'm sure that's because she wasn't getting to enjoy the tasty goodness.

Baby Steps.

For some reason, I remember very clearly the day that I was first able to run a 5K straight through.  I had to check the date -- Tuesday, March 5, 2013 -- but I remember the day.  It was a gray, snowy, morning as I stared at that damn treadmill, willing it to reach 3.1 miles before I quit.  

Given how poor my memory is, the fact that I remember it shows that it must have been a significant accomplishment to me.  Which I find interesting now, as somehow, running a 5K has become relatively easy.  Once I get past that first three-quarters of a mile, of course.  That bit is always hard.  In fact, yesterday, in honor of my hometown's annual 10K race, the Bolder Boulder, I ran a 10K (6.2 miles).  By far, that is the farthest I've ever run in one stretch.  And, while I was ready to stop, I didn't NEED to, I was just bored and my calves were starting to hurt.  It was also the fastest I've ever run consistently.  I am still slow and probably always will be as my knees start to protest the pounding when things drop into the 8:00 or less per mile zone (I will do short intervals at higher speeds which is how I know this but never any real distance) but the 10K averaged probably 9:30 or so a mile.  I know when I started running this winter, it was closer to 11:00/mile. 

Progress.  Or, more appropriately, baby steps.

The Dreadmill.

I have been trying to run lately.  It is not my forte.  I have heard people talk about the runner's high.  I think that it totally fictitious.  For at least the first half mile, I active hate every single step.  After that, it settles into a more passive dislike.  People tell me that they just zone out and run.  I can do that swimming.  I easily zone out, get my Dory-on ("just keep swimming"), and quickly lose track of how many laps I've done.  But absolutely not with running. I stare at the time or the distance, just to see if it is time to quit yet.  I run because I feel like I should.  And, I have improved, longer distances and slightly faster (although no one would call me anything but slow). Yet, I do not like it.  And, I've been known to almost trip myself, with bruises to show for it.

I wish I was like this guy:

That is absolutely a broken ankle for a clumsy person like me but doesn't he look like he loves the treadmill?

Pool.

Hidden away in my neighborhood, about four blocks from my place, are two outdoor pools.  They technically belong to an odd little neighborhood-within-the-neighborhood called Sandburg Terrace.  But, they are run by one of the gym chains so are open to membership from the public (at a higher cost than the residents of Sandburg, of course).  Not quite the public pools from my suburban youth but close.  M joined last summer when she was a member of the gym that runs the pool and took me as a guest a couple times.  It really reminded me of the many, many summer afternoons I spent, including the lifeguard's whistle for adult swim.  Except this time, that meant it was time for me to get in the water, not out.

This summer, I decided to join the pool too.  It is on the not-cheap side but I really like swimming outside.  And, while I like the occasional lake swim, and get in there at least a few times every summer for a couple long swims, I have never gotten over the feeling that I should be taking a preventative course of antibiotics every time.  This way, I can swim outside without having to battle the waves, seaweed and cold of the lake.  And, of course, nothing like getting some time by the pool, laying in the sun (slathered in sunblock, of course), reading and taking a refreshing dip.

The pool opens in 25 days.  Now, I just hope it is solidly summer by then.  We hit 80 yesterday.  Unfortunately, tomorrow's high is 55.  At least we aren't Colorado, who got a mayday May Day snow storm leaving 6 inches of fresh snow.  

Accomplished.

I accomplished something today that I never thought possible.

Disclaimer: Despite that sentence normally preceding an actual accomplishment for a person is justifiably proud, that is not at all applicable here but the sentence remains true.

I have a love for Lululemon.  Forget the recent negative reports of quality issues with their products.  I have always found their products to be long-lasting, extremely well-designed, attractive, almost magical and addictive.  Whenever I peruse their website or store, I typically want to buy about 90% of their offerings.  There are only two factors that hold me back, one more than the other.

First, cost.  Lulu is not cheap.  $75 for a pair of crop leggings.  $40 for a tank top.  And those are the bare-bones basic models.  Get fancier and the costs rise.  But, I amortize it, as I do with most purchases.  Because Lulu lasts longer than your average workout attire and because I work out frequently, I figure that my cost per wear is significantly less than $1 (for the pants).  Totally worth it.

Second, that for some inexplicable reason, the business casual dress code required by my job does not include leggings, tank tops, hoodies, etc. within its confines.  The limitation on possible wearing opportunities factors into my amortization calculus and thereby constrains my purchases.

However, today I wore a Lulu tank top to work.  Lots of caveats: (1) it was a casual, jeans-sanctioned day; (2) I wore it under a perfectly business-casual appropriate cardigan; and, (3) it was barely visible.  Lulu has always posted pictures of its staffers wearing their clothes out in the non-gym-work world, looking all cute, stylish and comfortable.  I never thought I would get to be like one of those girls but look at me, wearing my Lulu to work.

So, yes, my big accomplishment was wearing a tank top.  Next post might be about tying my shoes or something.

Better Late Than Never.

Last week, I received a shipping notification from a UPS store in Colorado.  I had not ordered anything but the Colorado part told me who to ask.  My parents are in the process of buying a UPS Store franchise.  As part of that process, my mom has been doing training.  Last week, she was training in a store in Fort Collins so I texted her to ask if that email notification was just a test or if she had sent me something.  Her response was "MYOB."  Yes, my mama loves me.  So, I assumed that she actually sent me something and happily awaited delivery on Friday.

As it got toward 5:00 on Friday and still no parents' package delivered, I tracked the package only to find that there was a delivery exception saying that more address information was needed.  So, I got in touch with UPS and provided an overabundance of information on my office location -- firm name, floor on which I sit, cross streets, etc.  I was told I would be contacted within an hour by the Chicago service center.  Four hours later, I received a voicemail on my work line that said that the information was received but because I hadn't provided the information until after 7:00 pm, the package would not be delivered until Tuesday.  Seeing as how I had provided the information at 4:45, I once again called UPS. After two more phone calls and getting a manager involved, they acknowledged that I did meet the deadline and assured me it would be delivered on Monday and that I would receive a call on Monday confirming that.

And, I did.  At 7:57 am, I received a call saying that they had the additional information and the package was on the truck.  But, when it was 4:00 pm and still no package, the tracking information told me that they were missing information and was being held.  AGAIN.  So, again, two phone calls later, I get assured that the package will be delivered on Tuesday.  Of course, on Tuesday, I had to make two more calls because the tracking information still indicated that UPS was confused.  However, this time, they made a second attempt and actually delivered the package.  It was at 8:00 pm or so but it did finally get to my office.

I got it this morning.  TOTALLY worth the frustration and accumulated phone time and complaints:

Peanut brittle, toffee, caramels, mini chocolate bunnies and  jelly belly beans.

I might have diabetes by tomorrow as I love all things in this Easter "basket."  And, my parents' card was a little too prescient and appropriate, considering:

Reads "When it comes to chocolate, does it really matter who brings the basket?"

Being and Nothingness.

For the first time in 34 years, I celebrated my birthday in the warmth.  People with warm weather birthdays do not know how good they have it.  On the day I turned 34, I was in Anguilla where it was 82, sunny, with a breeze.  Just perfect.  And, it remained perfect the entire five days we were in the islands -- except as we were taking the boat to depart where we boated through a brief

Upon my return, people asked me what I did while on vacation.  In short: nothing.  It was wonderful.  For five days, I would wake up and go out to our lanai and enjoy the view from our backyard.

View from our backyard -- yes, the beach was THAT close.

We would order some light breakfast, my mom would take her morning nap, we would go to a beach, have some drinks, return to our rooms and take a nap, go to dinner (great food on the island), have some drinks and go to bed.  I read a lot.  I slept.  I did nothing and enjoyed the heck out of it.

We had a lot of beaches to choose from on the island.  Our backyard overlooked Meads Bay.  Also on the resort's property was Barnes Bay.  On my actual birthday, we went to Shoal Bay, which has at various points, been named the best beach in the world.  It is definitely more touristy than the beaches around the Viceroy.  (While all beaches on Anguilla are public, they don't have to make access easy.  The Viceroy offers a public parking lot that is probably a mile walk to the beach.  Shoal Bay is much more public but it truly beautiful.  One of the local hustlers is Ray De Man.  Even knowing that he is totally hustling the tourists by renting his umbrellas, towels, etc., you can't help but like the guy.  He has business cards and personalized umbrellas:

Yes, that reads I love Ray De Man.

Unfortunately, Anguilla is a bit of trek to get to from Chicago.  My parents flew from Denver to Chicago, where I met them at the gate (which was so unexpected in this post 9/11 era, that neither of them really recognized me at first) and we all flew to Miami.  We had a night layover -- where we got to the hotel at about 10:00pm only to be told our rooms were not yet ready! -- and then flew to St. Maarten and then took a boat to Anguilla.  Mom and I, having made this journey three years ago, had our eyes on the prize: our first beer on St. Maarten while we wait for the boat to Anguilla.  Neither of us really drink beer but for some reason it is perfect and delicious there.

Cheers -- to doing nothing!

First beer!

Anguilla is interesting in that most tourists you talk to have been there before -- in fact, have been there multiple times with plans to return.  It was my second time.  Even with snafus with our room and some annoyances with the resort (which happened last time as well), I have no hesitation in saying I want to go again.

The entrance to the Viceroy Anguilla 

Initially, I was concerned that my dad would not enjoy himself.  He is not a man who does well at doing nothing, at least when he is at home.  But, he took to it like a duck to water.

Getting into the swing of doing nothing.

Although, he and water are not really the best of friends.  So, he did not love the beach portion of our days -- at least the part where anyone actually got wet.  But, he did not mind sitting on the beach with a drink and book.  Not at all.

His beach look: shoes AND socks on, no way is he going in the water.

Mom and I LOVE the beach.  We are both pale people so we were slathered in strong sunblock and sat under umbrellas most of the time -- nothing worse than ruining a perfectly good vacation by burning yourself into discomfort -- but we just love the sand in your toes, the ocean, the breeze, the warmth, the drinks.

More appropriate beach attire.

Proof that everyone looks good in aviators.

Tea Party.

I have lived in my place for almost three years.  And yet, up until yesterday, I had never met one of my next door neighbors.  My other next door neighbor is roughly my age and a really nice girl.  She works from home a lot so not only knows my other neighbor but most of the people in the building.  She decided it would be a good idea to have tea with Wilma so that we could meet.  As it turns out, it was Wilma's 93rd birthday over the weekend so the tea party became a bit of a birthday party as well.

And, would you believe that a tea party for a 93 year old woman was actually a good time?  While she is on oxygen and has some other medical issues, she is mentally sharp.  In fact, she still goes to work for a few hours a day.  And, she has lived in the building since it was built (she actually worked for the company that built it) so knows EVERYTHING.

The tea party quickly turned into finding out what's the T regarding the building.  Like which neighbor had decorated her portion of the common hallway with giant paintings of her and her husband doing various activities.  And, which neighbor allegedly has hookers make house calls.  And, correcting our misunderstanding about which neighbor has a decades long affair with one of the most prominent attorneys in Chicago.   I realized I really don't spend a lot of time at home because I had no idea who most of the people discussed were.  But, I am also glad that I am friendly with these founts of gossipy knowledge!

It's not a big building but clearly, never a dull moment.