Bit of Bubbly

Jesus Year.

2012-02-08T10:53:00.002-06:00

Today I start my Jesus Year. Before you ask, it is a totally made-up thing. My friend K deemed her 33rd year, the Jesus Year. A way to put a positive spin on what is an otherwise kind of blah birthday. So long as you avoid crucifixion, it is a year to reinvent yourself, start a new chapter, mutatis mutandis.

My birthday fell on a Wednesday this year. My Wednesday mornings always start with a swim and today was no different. Appropriately enough for my Jesus year, I turned water into wine today -- because I went to swim, I was able to receive a gift from a friend at the gym of a bottle of Veuve.

Gospel Brunch.

2012-01-31T09:37:00.003-06:00

The House of Blues hosts a Gospel Brunch every Sunday. When I lived in Austin, going to gospel brunch at Stubb's was always a good time. What's not to like about all-you-can-eat barbeque with some live music in the background? My friend, K, invited me to join her, her grandparents, cousin and a friend to join them at the House of Blues version last Sunday. With Stubb's in mind, I accepted without hesitation.

The HOB version is an entirely different type of gospel brunch. First, they start by warming up the crowd with some Hallelujahs and Amen's scattered among HOB trivia questions. Honestly, I'm not sure that this is the best plan. The crowd was hungry and we could smell the food awaiting us. After giving us detailed instructions, we were allowed to enter.

I had been at the gym prior to meeting K at HOB. I was STARVING. Priorities: mimosa first, then omelet. I got in the omelet line and almost snapped from the hunger. The people in front of me were tourists who kept bringing more people into line once they got to the front and ordered three omelets per person. The people behind me were new teachers and kept talking about topics that I have heard from years from my mom and her teacher friends. At this point, I had to stop myself from correcting them on theories and just telling them to shut up. I had to put my hands over ears at one point. But, once I got my omelet everything was better. The food was good -- standard brunch offerings with a slightly southern flare (the lunch offerings were of the fried chicken, potato salad, and mac and cheese ilk).

Unlike the Stubb's version, there was no live music as we ate. Instead, it was delineated into eating, then music. The music was fun. As it started, K's grandfather leaned over to me to ask if I had ever been to black people's church (I have) and said that "this is how we do it." Sister Eileen started the show in fine form, giant sparkly hat, pink satin suit with huge lapel pin and glittery shoes. A drag queen could take a note from this woman. The choir put on a good show, although occasionally got showed up by the audience participants that they called to the stage. I enjoyed it, but as I told K, if it wasn't in Sister Act, I did not know the song. Or, in other words, the only song I knew was "Oh Happy Day."

Elevator Edition.

2012-01-26T12:52:00.003-06:00

I was talking to my parents this morning about a change to my 401K investment mix. They explained to me that Portugal is currently suffering larger debt problems than Greece. News to me. I immediately blamed the WSJ-Elevator Edition for failing to keep me up to date.

I like to think of myself as fairly well-informed. I tend to know a little about a lot of topics. Almost all of my news sources are non-traditional. For example, Twitter gives me a lot of my news and keeps me the most current.

But, I can't remember the last time I bought a paper version of a newspaper. There are some people in my office who like to walk around with the WSJ tucked under their arm. I assume it is solely to let everyone know they read they subscribe to the WSJ. I have nothing against the WSJ. I actually really enjoy their Friday style section and have a standing request with a friend that he send it to me whenever he remembers. But, beyond the WSJ-Elevator Edition, I don't read it.

When I mentioned the Elevator Edition, my mom burst out laughing, assuming I was making a joke that I got my news from the elevator. My dad assumed that I was using the elevator as a stand-in for a water cooler. But, for the record, I am not making it up. In most newer buildings (or at least rehabbed buildings) in cities, the elevators tend to have screens that display the weather, time, and news. In my office, we get the WSJ-Elevator Edition. Which is, by far, their most inferior edition since it tends to be 15 words or less. Hence, why I didn't know about Portugal. It takes a few more than 15 words to explain that situation in full. Although I think I can nutshell it in three letters, if my parents are right about its current fiscal standing: S.O.L.

2012: Mutatis Mutandis.

2012-01-09T09:50:00.003-06:00

I have retroactively decided that my New Year's resolution is: Mutatis Mutandis. What's that you say? It is Latin for "changing those things that need to be changed."

Obviously, the first thing that needs to be changed is for me not to be the kind of asshole who unnecessarily sprinkles Latin phrases about to prove that they speak Latin and you don't. Actually, the phrase was in a proposed order that M received and the judge, prudently, red-lined it right out. Since neither of us actually speak Latin, we both had to look it up when she told the story.

But, I think that Mutatis Mutandis is a good theme for your Jesus year. Termed by K, the year of your 33rd birthday is your Jesus year. A year to make some changes, re-invent yourself, turn a new chapter, hopefully all without that whole crucifixion thing. I think it is always helpful to have a theme, for attire, parties and now, birthdays.

Sisyphus Day.

2012-01-03T10:17:00.002-06:00

For the record, this day -- not specifically January 3rd, but whatever day happens to be the first official work day of the new year -- is always my least favorite day of the year. I always feel like Sisyphus staring at that damn rock, once again at the bottom of the hill.

As Mary Poppins said, in every job that must be done, there is an element of fun. Of course, the trick is finding it, so that "poof! the job is a game." I'm not sure what Mary Poppins would have told old Sisyphus though.

Here's to hoping and finding the fun for 2012 at work.

Holiday Dinner.

2011-12-20T10:43:00.002-06:00

Last night was the Third Annual Trump Girl Holiday Dinner. This dinner is always a logistical nightmare (trying to find both a date that works for six schedules and a place that has reservations during the holidays) but always so so worth it. No matter what else is going on during what is always a super busy time of the year, this is the one event that no one has ever bailed on.

Our first year, we celebrated at Bistro 110. The next year, we moved across the square to RL. This year, I think we found our holiday home for years to come at NoMi. LS is an "ambassador" for NoMi. As a result, she was able to get us a table with the most fantastic view of Michigan Avenue. When we arrived, there were gifts awaiting us, including a gift certificate to the Spa, hand and hair oil and a bottle of bubbly to toast the holidays. We fancy, huh?

This year's dinner was just fantastic. As we sat down, I put the holiday poppers around the table. They are my annual contribution to the table -- I just love the little extra dose of fun they add. Our server took one look at the festive, gift-filled table and us and said "this is going to be a fun table, I can tell." Obviously. The view was incredible. The food was delicious. And, the girls are awesome.

Everyone is soon to be off for their Christmas travels but I always feel like Christmas officially starts with our holiday dinner.

Blackhawks Down.

2011-11-30T08:50:00.006-06:00

Last night I attended my first ever Blackhawks game, courtesy of H. She couldn't believe that neither M nor I had ever been to a Blackhawks game and decided to make it her mission to rectify it. The game had been on our calendars for probably two months and we were all super excited to go.

We arrived about 45 minutes early so we headed to the club, to have a snack and a drink. Once we got there, we realized we were some of the only (1) people not wearing Blackhawks gear and (2) women in the room. Add to those two facts that we were drinking wine and eating calamari (not good) and crabcakes (apparently, awesome) and suffice to say that we stuck out a bit. However, that worked to our benefit as we quickly made some new friends. New friends who had on-ice seats. While the seats that H got us were great -- tenth row, behind the net -- one does not pass up the opportunity to sit on the glass.

Each of us got to sit on the glass for a period. One of the guys served as our "coach" while we were there, explaining a few of the intricacies of the game and mostly, encouraging us to bang on the glass whenever the players got anywhere near us. In the third period, it was M's turn and she was following his direction. As it turns out, his direction was wrong and they threatened to kick her out if she didn't stop. Whoopsy. Putting that aside, sitting that close is just awesome -- the puck whizzing by, the players hitting the glass, and the fans cheering. I was disappointed that there wasn't much fighting though. The one "fight" was more like two guys in a hug headlock than anything.

A couple photos from last night, although you will need to be eagle eyes to see us. First, there is me sitting behind the net at the glass:

And here you can see M, with the coach behind her in the red:

The only bad thing about last night was that it was the first game I've been to in Chicago that resulted in a loss, 4-1, to what was called a mediocre Phoenix team. I might be losing my touch. Despite that, I'd happily go to more games. Go Blackhawks!

Dammit, Lulu.

2011-11-28T10:05:00.003-06:00

Cyber Monday is supposedly the best day for online deals of the year. Before 7:00 am, I had about 15 emails telling me retailers' great deals for the day, ranging from 30-75% off.

But not Lulu, oh no. Only they would take Cyber Monday as the perfect day to introduce their "special edition" items. Rather than presenting a great deal today, they offer already expensive items with teeny tiny extra details for 30-75% more.

Maybe it is a cultural barrier. . . they are Canadian after all.

Apologies to Nike.

2011-11-28T09:48:00.005-06:00

I have never been a runner. I think the runner's high is a lie. My favorite thing about having arthritis is that it gave me a reason not to do something I've always hated.

And yet, I recently decided that I want to run. It is only because I want to get to cross an actual finish line at a triathlon rather than having the anticlimactic just stopping in the transition area while doing the 2/3rds aquabike. My knees are pretty under control these days -- except when the weather is bad -- so I decided to start running. While cardiovascularly I'm pretty sure I can handle it, I know my joints need more time (a thought confirmed by my favorite Ironwoman). So, I googled it and found a running training plan that would have me running for 30 minutes in seven weeks:

Week 1 - run 2, walk 3, repeat six times

Week 2 - run 3, walk 2, repeat five times

Week 3 - run 5, walk 2, repeat four times

Week 4 - run 7, walk 3, repeat three times

Week 5 - run 8, walk 2, repeat three times

Week 6 - run 9, walk 1, repeat three times

Week 7 - run 30!

Seems totally doable. And, until week 4, it was. However, I seem to have confronted a case of body-willing, mind-weak or mind-willing, body-weak, depending on the day. I have been on the run seven minutes for the past two weeks now because I just can't seem to make myself do the full 30. Sometimes my knees legitimately hurt. Sometimes, I just think they do because I don't wanna.

But as of today, no more. I am telling myself: "Just f-ing do it." And, if it takes telling myself to just f-ing do it three times or thirty times over the course of 30 minutes, that is what is going to happen. Because I know I can do it even if I don't like it.

Wimp.

2011-11-27T16:54:00.002-06:00

I am a self-admitted fair-weather bike rider. I think I am kind of a wimp when it comes to riding in bad weather. I define bad to involve rain, snow, ice, strong wind, and cold. Yet, there are lots of sites dedicated to telling you how great it is to ride through the winter. They use a lot of words like "brisk" and "bracing" and "layers." I really do enjoy riding my bike but I also enjoy feeling in my fingers and toes.

I did not start riding my bike regularly until late May despite having it for six weeks or so prior. I kept wanting to but the highs were not breaking 60 and M reminded me that I would have lots of time to ride so why do it when I'd dislike it. As the fall entered, I said that my goal was to ride through October. Thanks to a mild November, I rode my bike to work probably half of the time. (It helped that I spent a week in Colorado though.)

Today was not ideal riding weather, definitely falling into my definition of bad as it was around 40, light rain and wind. But, I rode anyway. I had let M borrow my car so I was faced with walking, taking a cab, riding, or skipping the gym. I think walking takes too long and I'm cheap but I'm not lazy, so I got on my bike. Surprisingly, it was not as bad as I thought it would be. It was brisk, bracing, and I did wear layers. I do not think I will be a year-round rider but maybe I am slightly less of a wimp than I thought.

In ConText.

2011-11-27T09:03:00.003-06:00

It has been about two weeks since my mom entered the brave new world of texting. And, speaking solely for myself, I love it. When she is not frustrated by her phone, I think she likes it too.

For me, having her send and receive texts is fantastic. Given that she is still recovering from surgery, I like to hear from her and know that she is doing okay. It makes me anxious when I don't hear an all quiet on the Western front, since the last time around, she did some wacky, not-good, needing-more-surgery things while recovering. Now, instead of me bugging her with a call, she will send me a text in the morning and let me know that all is well, more or less. Of course, when I have something real to talk to her about, I still call her and talk her ear off.

And, incredibly, on Thanksgiving, I received my first -- and probably last, knowing him -- text from my dad. He can be a bit of a Luddite sometimes but read some story about people only being able to get help in some emergency situation via text so he was convinced that he too needed to enter the 21st century when it came to texting.

Thankful.

2011-11-27T08:50:00.003-06:00

This Thanksgiving, in no particular order, I am thankful for:

My friends. Much like last year, I spent Thanksgiving in the company of my friends and their families. And, it was wonderful. I went to the Parade with H, cooked and ate with M and her family, and then M, her mom, and I all headed over to see O and J, where L and S were with their parents. All are such wonderful, interesting, intelligent, different, caring, welcoming people. I feel lucky to have them.

A delicious dinner. I'm not much of a Thanksgiving food fan but there is something to be said for sitting down with a group of people and just enjoying the food and company.

My first-ever pie without my mom's supervision turned out. It definitely looked homemade (a tad ugly) and it did require an emergency pie-crust-burning call to my mom but it was pretty tasty, if I do say so my biased self.

My mom's recovery from neck surgery. It seems like second time was the charm. She is still in pain but that is not surprising considering that she only had surgery a month ago. Putting that aside, she has movement and motivation that she did not have last year. All positive signs.

My dad's recovery from his emergency gallbladder removal. You'd never know he came within hours of dying this year by seeing him today. Thank goodness for timely, knowledgeable, skilled medical intervention.

My floors FINALLY being almost fixed. After three weeks and two nights in a hotel, the most recent leak is nothing but a varnish-smelling memory. Soon, I will have new carpet installed and the summer will be clean-slated too.

My RA being mostly under control, at least enough to try running. I don't think I will ever be "a runner" but I do want to be able to run enough to do a full triathlon and actually get to cross a finish line, rather than my anticlimactic two-thirds races.

2011 almost being over. This year has kicked my ass and done a number on my parents. I feel like 2012 is going to be a better year.

Seatmate Soulmate.

2011-11-14T22:06:00.004-06:00

I think everyone wonders about their seatmate on a flight. Nobody wants their space infringed by a stranger's stuff, smell or size. But, as a single person, every flight, I like to hope that my seatmate might be my soulmate. And, I know this game isn't restricted to women. My friend K, who travels WAY more than I do, and I always joke about his seatmate soulmate before his flights.

About six years ago, I was returning from San Francisco with a co-worker. As we were boarding, we both noted a tall drink of chocolate milk getting in line behind us. Long story short, the long straw turned out to be my seatmate and my date for a little while. We are still friendly so I guess that has left me an optimist in the seatmate soulmate game. An optimist despite the fact that my last seatmate was a forty-something lady who was wearing bedazzled jeans, a leopard print shirt, and an especially tacky acrylic French manicure.

Of course, I'm probably 0 for 123 at this point. K is probably 0 for 327, although he said one of his more recent seatmates was close. He was due -- his seatmate the previous time was a big dude who offered him drugs and made him shake him awake on landing since he drugged himself into oblivion. Maybe all this seatmate karma will eventually payoff in soulmates for both of us. Either way, it makes boarding less boring.

Competitive.

2011-11-14T21:48:00.003-06:00

I don't generally think of myself as a competitive person, but I know I can be.

Proof: Walking home from dinner tonight, M and I realized that a horse carriage was beside us. And, worse, it was beating us. I mean, I know a horse has four legs and was hauling both a carriage and three people but ain't no way, no how, that the horse was going to beat us.

Sadly, for a block or so, it was a close call. Whenever the horse got close to passing us, it would snort like it knew we considered him competition. And, I would start cracking up. Clearly, I did not have the eye of the tiger tonight. But, thankfully, my lack of focus did not result in us losing to a carriage horse. We pulled away and did not look back.

A win is a win, right?

Floored.

2011-11-12T09:09:00.002-06:00

When I left home, I left behind a flooring mess. Thanks to a leak on the 12th floor, I spent four, very long and loud days with drying equipment in my kitchen and hallway. When they came to remove the equipment on Sunday, it did not appear to me that the kitchen floor was dry. I sent a text to the project manager mentioning that. He was supposed to go look on Monday. Then, he said it would be on Wednesday. With me being out of town, apparently he could not be bothered to actually go look until Friday. And, when he did see the floor, he realized I was right. The floor was not dry and needs to be replaced.

So, thanks to no plumbing issues of my own, I have to replace every floor in my place with the exception of my two bathrooms. My kitchen tile needs to be replaced -- hopefully it will be done soon since I cannot currently use my dishwasher or stove. My parquet floors need to be matched, patched, sanded and re-stained. And, the carpet in my bedroom and closet needs to be replaced from June's sewage fun.

I cannot decide if the worst part is the expense, the hassle or the fact that no one has said sorry.

Brave New World.

2011-11-12T08:58:00.003-06:00

For the past year or so, I have been bugging my mom to get a phone that she would use to at least accept text messages. My parents are not cell phone users. They have them in case of emergency, travel and meeting me at the airport, as far as I can tell. My dad has the razr that was popular when I was in law school eight years ago and my mom has a cell phone that I'm pretty sure dates back to probably ten years ago. When I had a phone without a qwerty keyboard, I hated texting too. Such a pain in the ass to have to hit the 5, four times to get an L. So, I made it my mission to go get my mom a phone with a qwerty keyboard.

Yesterday, mom was having a good afternoon. We got lottery tickets, went out to lunch (a first since pre-surgery), and then went to Best Buy. There, she astounded me by not only picking a new phone but picking a smart phone. After traveling with my brother and I, she came to realize how useful having a smart phone can be in terms of maps and google. Believe it, I could not.

As she said, she has dipped her foot in the waters of the 21st century now. She isn't jumping in the deep end with all the other technological possibilities but no need for that. And, luckily, I have all weekend to give her lessons on how to use her phone. But, so far, so good. She has sent texts, taken a picture, sent it, and can use her phone as a phone, both taking and making calls. I can feel my life getting easier already!

Fall Fun.

2011-11-12T08:41:00.003-06:00

Part of my goal for being in Colorado is to make my dad's life easier. The other part, obviously, is to help my mom recover from surgery. So while he has been at work, I've done my parents' laundry, done the dishes, taken care of the pets, cooked, etc. Because it is fall, there has been yard work to do in the form of leaf-raking.

Colorado is an arid climate. I know most people just picture mountains everywhere but my parents live on the high plains near the foothills of the mountains. Because it is dry, the landscaping is generally a bit of grass that is expensive to maintain, a lot of rocks, and a few trees. My parents' yard definitely fits in this generalization. Not a huge yard and three, small, leafy trees.

Despite that, somehow, it took me three hours and five bags to clean up their yard. And, that wasn't even to a high standard. Definitely nowhere near the level of their backyard neighbor who has OCD and picks the leaves out of the rocks by hand everyday. It was just getting it done. While I was outside working, three of my parents' neighbors stopped to talk to me. Most of them see me maybe once a year or so but I think the powers of deduction should make them figure out that I'm not some hired hand doing the yard work. Each of them made some sort of joke about how fun raking leaves is.

And every time, my response was "This is why I live in the city." Of all the trade-offs between living in a house in the suburbs and a condo in the city, I think it is hands-down a clear winner for the city to not have to do yard work.

Walmart.

2011-11-08T16:49:00.003-06:00

As a preface, I understand that the following makes me sound like a snob and/or yuppie and/or urban elitist. And, maybe I am, I don't know. I just know that they don't have Walmart in Chicago, at least not until you get to the very-very edge of it.

I'm currently in Colorado, playing Florence Nightingale as my mom recovers from neck surgery. One of my tasks for today was to go to the store to get some things. Unfortunately, the store involved was Walmart. I don't remember the last time I was in a Walmart but I can say that they have become super-sized. Walmart and Costco and the like might be the reason that the terrorists hate us. I felt like a stranger in a strange land. The people. The clothes. The people. The amount of stuff. The people. The people. The people.

The second runner-up as best part about this was the glee my mom took in sending me to "go be like everyone else in the country and shop at Walmart. The third runner-up was the amount of distaste my grandmother expressed for Walmart when I told her about the trip. Apple seemed to skip a generation on falling from that tree. Obviously, the best part was crossing something off the list of things to be done for my dad. Even with three good things having come from the trip, I'm in no hurry to go back to Walmart.

Karma.

2011-11-03T14:49:00.003-05:00

I tend to think that my family consists of good people. I'm no saint and certainly could do more but I give to charity, try to help others, and the like. Overall, not bad. But, recently, my family has gone through some things that make me think that my karma is not very good.

Back in February, I celebrated my birthday with a corneal ulcer. In June, the plumbing in my building backed up during a big storm leaving me with sewage-spewed carpeting. In July, my dad had to have emergency gallbladder surgery, coming within hours of dying due to septic shock. Two weeks ago, my mom had to have her second neck fusion in a year. When my mom asked me what I wanted for Christmas, I gave her two present ideas: (1) a time machine that would go back about four years and trap my parents in their then-healthy state; or, (2) fixing all the plumbing in my building.

On Tuesday, one of the units on the 12th floor of my building suffered a leak. As the water worked its way down the building, a lot of units were left with wet drywall along that pipe. Lucky me, I was the only person with serious damage. Apparently, there is a divider under my unit that meant that the water had nowhere to go and nothing to do but pool under the floors of my kitchen and hallway. Even luckier me, the building bylaws deem this an accident, making me responsible for fixing the damage. So far, it looks like my home owner's insurance will cover the damage after my deductible. In the past two days, I've gained experience with water remediation processes and insurance claims.

Unfortunately, I will be putting that experience to use next week. My mom just called me to tell me that their roof had sprung a leak. I will be out in Colorado, playing Florence Nightingale, as my mom recovers from surgery. Apparently, I might get to play Bob the Builder too.

I'm not sure what my family has done but 2011 is kicking our asses a bit. I think I need to investigate more charitable work or the like immediately, if not sooner.

Pool Etiquette.

2011-10-28T09:07:00.002-05:00

I'm no expert but I suspect I've spent more time swimming laps than your average person. In a perfect world, no one would have to share a lane. You could swim down the middle, doing your weird elementary backstroke, zig-zagging all over the place, to your heart's content. But, sadly, the pool is often not a perfect world and people have to dig deep to that kindergarden place and share.

There are two ways to share a lane: circle swimming (which only really works well when the swimmers are roughly the same speed) and splitting the lane (which only works when there are only two people who need to share the lane and that they can manage to stay on their side of the lane). Pretty simple really.

BUT, here is the key: before jumping in and sharing the lane, you need to stop the person already swimming in the lane and ask/tell them that you will be sharing the lane. That way you avoid what happened to me this morning.

I had followed proper etiquette and was splitting a lane with an older guy. He clearly was not happy about it. Both from his grumpy "fine" and the face that he kept crossing over to my side. I was hugging the lane line but one time I could not avoid my arm hitting his. Thankfully, another lane opened up and he went over there. Everyone was happier. I was mid-way through a sprint set, when another person showed up and wanted to swim. The coach on deck suggested she share with the guy rather than me because they were better matched speed-wise, as I was sprinting while he was slow and she wanted to do drills. Apparently, he did not like the idea of sharing with her for whatever reason. I was at the far end of the pool, making my turn, when he pushed off the wall, went under the lane line and started swimming in my lane. I didn't know that though because I had my head down and was swimming hard. I only learned that when we collided, with him punching me in the chest. I popped out of the water with a loud "motherf-er" from the shock and pain. He didn't say anything but kept swimming. I made it to the end of the lane but it hurt!

By that time, he had gotten out of the pool in huff saying he couldn't share lanes because HE kept getting hit. He said I hit him twice. Which, I guess if you count my chest colliding with his fist, is right. But, I don't count that because he punched ME. He never did apologize either. Swimming usually makes me happy in the mornings but today it left me in a much more aggressive mood!

Taco Tuesday.

2011-10-11T20:59:00.005-05:00

I know this is silly but Taco Tuesday is one of my more favorite things. Taco Tuesday is not unique to Theory, but man, are the tacos delicious there. So much so that my parents call Theory the taco place, as if it were some hole-in-the-wall taqueria instead of a sports bar on Hubbard.

M and I try to go every week. We don't always make it but I think we always love it. For people who live in the same building, work in the same office, and work out at the same gym, we can go a surprisingly long time (a few days) without having an opportunity to actually talk. Sometimes, other people join us, which is always welcome. The more the taco-loving, the merrier.

So, what I love about Taco Tuesdays is:

1. Tacos;

2. Prosecco;

3. Tacos;
4. Time to catch up on every detail and story, however small;

5. Tacos;

6. Theory.

No (e)Harm, No Foul.

2011-10-10T15:21:00.002-05:00

A couple weeks ago, I gave in and joined eHarmony. The past couple years proved to me that I need help meeting men. Maybe up until five years ago or so, I think there was a stigma attached to online dating. At this point though, even my 76 year old grandmother thought it just makes sense, given the realities of being a younger professional. If you didn't meet your spouse in college or grad school, it is just not easy to meet eligible people when you work (more than) full time. But I digress and will stop being defensive.

Within a couple days, I progressed through the stages of "guided communication" with a guy. On the fourth stage -- email communication (which comes with a full page warning to the extent of "you're on your own, kids . . . don't forget, once you give out your number or address, you can't get it back") -- he asked if I wanted to get a cup of coffee or glass of wine sometime. Since I didn't join for a pen pal, I quickly agreed. He gave me four options of where to meet, all of which were good.

At 8:30 on a Thursday night, I met him for drinks at NoMi. I love that place, as an aside. Drinks went well. I was nervous, which was obvious by the fact that he advised me to catch up with him and drink my drink quickly. Solid advice. After that, conversation was pretty easy and interesting. He asked if I wanted to go out to dinner. Sure, sounds good. He wanted to drive me home because he felt uncomfortable knowing I would be walking alone. Nice touch.

That Sunday, we went to Perennial. This time, he was nervous and I wasn't. Again, nice time had, capped off with drinks at the Pump Room. Because of busy and uncertain schedules, tentative plans were made for a third date. We agreed to drinks on Wednesday night. That afternoon, he had to cancel. No big deal, I understand having a busy week. He wanted to get together over the weekend but I had a friend in town so I was not available until Sunday. He seemed slightly irritated by that but agreed to Sunday for dinner. On Friday, we had a brief, friendly text exchange. On Sunday, I sent him a text asking about his weekend, and was going to confirm dinner.

But, he never responded.

I was surprised by that. Further proof that I do not understand men. As others have pointed out, I've made back my membership fee from just two dates -- not my fault he choose expensive places. So, no eHarm, no foul.

The Hat.

2011-10-09T10:07:00.001-05:00

Picture it:

It is 7:30 on Saturday night. K, M and I are sitting on the couch, watching Good Times and trying to figure out what we wanted to do that night. We had options; we did not have motivation or decisiveness. We were all just kind of eh about everything. Then, M had a silly but brilliant idea: we would take a poll. And, out came the Hat of Indecision.

Each of us got three ballots. Three was the perfect number as it thereby guaranteed there would be no ties but also properly reflected our indecision because if any of us could make a decision in one ballot we wouldn't need the Hat. Our first vote was whether to stay in (I) or go out (O). I pulled the ballots, while M narrated in a combination of lottery girl and Biggest Loser type drama. In a 5-4 split, the O's took it. We were going out.

But, gosh, where? Well, we could go to Adobo. Or, maybe Butch's. Or, oh, I don't know. No need to suffer the pangs of indecision when you have the Hat. We took another ballot and once again it was a 5-4 split, with Butch's taking the win. As it turns out, both times, K and I were 2-1 in favor of the ultimately winning outcome. But, even though M technically "lost" her ballots, she was not unhappy. You can't be unhappy when the Hat speaks. (Again, if any of us felt strongly about any of the decisions, we wouldn't have used the Hat.) The Hat gave us the motivation we needed.

We got to Butch's in the best mood. K and M played the soundtrack of our night through the jukebox. The two bachelorette parties/girls' weekend groups should have thanked them. We were singing, dancing, making friends. The Hat was not wrong. Do not doubt the Hat.

CAbi Day.

2011-09-29T09:33:00.000-05:00

Two things I forgot to mention that I enjoy about CAbi:

1. You don't get the clothes immediately (the instant gratification portion of my personality doesn't necessarily agree with me on this one). Instead, about ten days later, you get to have CAbi day, where a bag of clothes is awaiting you. As most of the party attendees work at the same place, we get to go pick up our clothes at work. And, this time, we got to say "Ponte (Wooooooooo!)" every time we referred to what we had purchased. Good times.

2. Vanity sizing. My rational mind knows that I do not fit into a size four. But, I surely did ten days ago to try a skirt on. And, buying a size six (getting warmer to my actual size but still VERY flattering) in skirts and pants? Awesome. Apparently my ego is no match for my rational mind -- it is totally willing to be flattered even in the face of knowing it is just vanity sizing at work.

Broseph.

2011-09-25T16:04:00.001-05:00

My broseph came to visit this weekend. He lives in Colorado and makes infrequent appearances outside of the Denver metro area. He came to Virginia and Texas to see me graduate. After seven and a half years in Chicago, my bro finally realized I would not be graduating from this location and booked a flight. Actually, he went to visit our grandmother in Milwaukee for three days and then took the train down to Chicago for a day.

I suspect my day or so with him has left him with the impression that my life is just non-stop fun and fancy. To be clear, it is not . . . just the non-work part is.

We went to Theory for a snack. I walked him over to Millennium Park to see the Bean and the Fountains o' Faces. We stopped to Garretts on our way back to the office for happy hour. From there, we headed home to change and then walked down to dinner at LuxBar. We ended the night with drinks at the new and improved Pump Room. (Side note: so happy to have the new Pump Room in the neighborhood. The space is lovely. The drink prices are not unreasonable. The servers are friendly. All that and only three blocks from my house. Love it.)

On Saturday, I may have broken him a bit. We went to the gym where he survived 45 minutes of a strength and conditioning class before I treated him to a spa service, while I finished the class and went to spin. We went to old faithful, Butch McGuire's, for lunch and then walked down Michigan Ave. We didn't get all that far when he asked to head home. His suburban feets just are not used to walking more than a couple blocks. He sent me a text when he arrived home today saying that walking was painful. Whoopsy. So, we headed up to Milwaukee that afternoon, where we had dinner with our grandmother and aunt.

I don't think my brother and I have ever spent that much time together, just us, as adults. And, we are very different people. He said that he has all the nice genes and I have all the brains. I don't agree with that statement but he is a very nice guy. He believes the best of people to the point that he ignores the reality of the present in the hopes of how they will be in the future. Despite how different we are, we generally get along very well. That's probably true because we have long been set in our roles and those have not changed much in thirty years.

What has changed, most significantly from my perspective, is that my brother now cooks. In my mind, my brother is the kid who made cinnamon pancakes so bad that our dog would not eat them. Now, he identifies spices in foods and makes cheesecakes for fun while on vacation. I still have not wrapped my mind around it even though I had no problem wrapping my fingers around my fork.

Welcome, S.

2011-09-22T15:07:00.000-05:00

Last week, the littlest Trump Girl made her appearance. After almost 23 hours of labor, at 10:54 p.m. on September 13, O gave birth to Simone Margaret.

Unfortunately for me, I had a cold last week so I could not go visit O, J, and S in the hospital. By the time I was no longer contagious, O was back in the hospital for high blood pressure issues. Poor girl had a catheter and was drugged up on magnesium for two days, unable to walk around or be with her baby. It sounded pretty miserable. Thankfully, everyone is home and healthy now. The most positive spin I can put on it is that now O has a story (with a happy ending) to scare other pregnant ladies with as she surely heard a zillion herself while pregnant.

Yesterday, I got to go visit everyone. S is the first really new baby I've held. She still has that new person smell. Her little hand can barely wrap around my finger. She is an adorable little tamale all swaddled up. As M said, all the mistakes you've made in life, the things you wish you could do over? S has none of that. A perfectly clean slate where her only job right now is to eat and sleep. And, thankfully, she is not a baby who has trouble achieving her goals, at least during week one. From what I can see, she is a rockstar at her appointed tasks, especially the sleeping. The eating seems to be her less favored job -- who can blame her? It gets in the way of her beauty rest and she seems to get rewarded for her efforts with hiccups frequently. Now, if only her parents can get some sleep too.

No doubt, S will make mistakes going forward. And, no doubt that O and J will too. But, it seems like they are all off to a great start, after an initial hiccup (and not just with the eating).

Clothing Amnesia.

2011-09-19T20:57:00.000-05:00

A CAbi party is an unusual experience. What is a CAbi party, you might wonder. I know I did. I had never heard of it before about six months ago. A CAbi party is essentially a tupperware party for clothes. (CAbi stands for Carol Anderson by invitation.) The idea of buying clothes out of a person's home was just hard for me to wrap my mind around. I passed on my first invitation to a CAbi party, despite hearing that the clothes were cute. However, when M hosted one, I really had no way to avoid attending, considering she lives two floors above me.

Based on very limited experience, I believe that a good CAbi party involves probably two elements: (1) alcohol and (2) a fun CAbi representative. Part one is easy. Part two may or may not be. Both parties I've attended have involved the same representative and she puts on quite a show. She somehow talks her way through about 50 pieces of clothing, trying on maybe a quarter of them, in about 45 minutes.

After she's done, that's where the unusual experience begins. All of the sudden, it is a free-for-all of women trying on the clothes. At both parties, the attendees were a mix of friends and co-workers. That distinction seems to go out the window, as does one's dignity. Ladies who may intimidate you at the office are suddenly in their underwear, waiting to take the shirt or skirt you just tried on. There must be some sort of immediate clothing amnesia (and/or just locker room mentality) induced by the CAbi clothing so that when you see these same ladies the next week, there is no embarassment.

CAbi: the party where you end up with a buzz and cute clothes.

Trapeasy Take Two.

2011-09-19T10:31:00.001-05:00

About six weeks ago, M, her mom and I went to trapeze class. It was not our idea; it was suggested as a networking event at work but we both had a conflict on the original date so we went on our own. However, the original date got rained out so we got to attend our second class for free as part of the re-scheduled work event.

The first class was exhilarating in a facing-fears type of way. I'm not particularly scared of heights but climbing a tall ladder and leaning out over the edge of a high platform was definitely a challenge the first time around. The second class had none of that fear. It helped that the person holding you at the top of the platform was a big, strong guy (who happened to have been the guy who caught us during the first class, giving me even more confidence in him) when the first class had a little girl assuring me, bigger than her, that she had me. She did but I couldn't help thinking that gravity plus my weight could easily bring her down with me.

So, the second class was just fun. We learned two new tricks which were super fun. The first trick everyone learns is called the knee-hang. It leaves a rather distinctive bruise on the back of your dominate side leg. (So much so that when we were walking to work this morning, M and I noticed the bruise on a girl ahead of us and then realized she was one of our co-workers and trapeze classmates.) After we demonstrated proficiency with the knee-hang, we learned the heels-off. Despite the name, that sucker leaves you a nice little bruise along your Achilles. Finally, we learned the whip. As far as I can tell, that one is bruise-free, although I only got to try it once. But, from a bruising perspective alone, I love it.

I have to admit that I was enjoying a little bit of schadenfreude. The girl who suggested this event is not my favorite for a variety of reasons and I suspected that she would not be particularly good at trapeze. Trapeze takes some degree of fitness and I'm pretty sure she never works out. So, I was not surprised that she had trouble on her first swing. I'm a bad person but it made me smile to see her struggle, as she is generally very smug about her accomplishments. However, I was surprised at how quickly she quit though. No "if at first you don't succeed, try, try again" with this girl.

Short story long, I really enjoy trapeze. I'm not sure it is much of a workout, although it definitely uses your shoulders and abs, but it is A LOT of fun. I am pretty sure that I will be back for more classes in the future and hopefully leave with fewer bruises.

Street Art.

2011-09-07T14:52:00.006-05:00

On my friend K's recommendation, I recently watched "Exit Through the Gift Shop." As a result, while in Paris, I had my eyes peeled for the work of Space Invader. Unfortunately, I was disappointed. But, there was a lot of graffiti everywhere. Of course, there is a difference between graffiti and street art. And, I saw some cute pieces of street art in both Paris and Palma.

In Paris, on the same block as our hotel, there was a grate that had been turned into a skeleton's ribcage. We saw an incomplete version elsewhere. I failed to take a picture of them (which I regret) but I found these examples:

In Palma, I saw these two stencils:

Buenisima Binissalem.

2011-09-07T14:20:00.005-05:00

S is our spin instructor. At 50, she is one of the fitter people I know. So, it was no surprise that our time with her involved A LOT of exercise.

Her house is straight out of House Hunters International. It is four floors, four bedrooms, five (gigantic) baths, a rooftop terrace, and a beautiful garden with a small pool. It has fantastic heavy wooden front doors (as do seemingly all of the houses in the village) and great archways.

The house is in a small village called Binissalem, a thirty or so minute drive northwest from Palma:

Once we dropped off our bags, we changed for a swim in the municipal pool. One small detail: it was a three-mile, fast-paced run (for M and S)/ride (me on a borrowed bike) uphill. The ride was not a problem, although it brought back a few hangover symptoms. I do not envy M and the run though. That seemed rough. It was nice to get in the pool though. Beautifully blue tiled, seemingly an infinity pool off the hill top. Easily the most beautiful pool I have swam in. Thankfully, what goes up, must go down so the return home was much easier.

Our reward for that exercise was some tasty pizza and wine. We somehow ended up chatting until 1:00 am. Which would not be late if we weren't scheduled to go to the gym at 8:30 the next morning.

Sad to say but the spin class was one of the highlights of the trip. So much energy and enthusiasm. It was a party in there. Great music. Great workout. Extremely attractive instructor. What's not to love? From there, it was back to the pool for another swim.

Our last hours on Mallorca included lunch at the Port, with the delicious Spanish omelet, croquettas and sangria.

From there, we were back to London for a night. It was a rainy day in London, so we took it easy in the morning. Enjoyed our complimentary continental breakfast. Saw the workout suite. We headed back to Heathrow and hung out in the lounge. We actually almost missed our flight back to Chicago because they don't assign gates until essentially boarding time and our gate was four people movers, an elevator, and a train from the lounge. After that excitement, it was a very smooth flight back home.

Palma - Part 2.

2011-09-07T14:06:00.006-05:00

After we finally turned the corner on our hangovers, we were nearing checkout time so we had no option than to rally. We had thought that maybe lunch would make some magic happen. It did not. BUT, ice cream did.

It was Sunday in a very Catholic country. It seemed like everything was closed. EXCEPT ice cream stores. After our first ice cream stick, almost immediately, we felt 90% better. Better enough, that I was able to notice how pretty the local architecture was:

We soon crossed another ice cream store. On the theory that two would be doubly good, we got another cone. And, magic! We felt totally human again. Just in time to find an open souvenir shop to stock up for family and friends.

Soon, we found the Plaza Mayor. From there, we could see the Cathedral that we noted the prior day that looked like a giant sandcastle:

On our way there, we came across some beautiful gardens:

We finally made it around the front of the cathedral:

From there, we continued our stroll, toward the port. Took a seat in a park. Had a snack. And, then it was time to head back to our hotel, where our spin instructor was going to pick us up.

To kill the time, we played some scrabble. As a tangent, I have been friends with M for maybe five years now and played scrabble a handful of times. I never win. It took probably ten hours of playing on this trip for me to win one game. It was a delightful afternoon, quite warm but we were in the shade with a breeze, a cappucino in front of us.

Soon enough, S arrived to take us to her house in the country.

Palma de Mallorca.

2011-09-07T13:57:00.002-05:00

After our unplanned layover in Barcelona, we arrived in Palma around 4:30 pm. We got ourselves to our hotel without problem. Because Palma is Spanish, we knew that a late dinner was on the agenda. So, we killed some time in the hotel spa, alternating between a super-hot sauna, a hot lounging chair, and a cool jacuzzi.

For dinner, we took a recommendation from the N.Y. Times. In a "36 Hours in . . ." article on Mallorca, the author recommended tapas at Bar Dia, but warned that "[t]he owner will be sitting in a corner smoking and playing cards with his mates, and couldn't be less pleased to see you." Truer words have not been written. The food was incredibly good but it seemed like the people working there had a word limit. However, as we were closing our tab, the owner poured us a shot of hierba, which is a local specialty, an anise-flavored liquor (I think). We were heading for the door, when some of the owner's mates stopped us to point out that it was raining and surely, we would rather stay and have a drink with them rather than brave the rain. Surely.

Except that a drink seemed to turn into ten.

Don't get me wrong. We had a blast. We met a lot of very gentlemanly locals who took us out. One of our fellow diners was an American bar owner who married a Mallorcan bar owner, whose father also owned a bar. Soon enough, we were at his bar. The night begins to blur for me after that. All I know that the next morning was not kind to us. We felt awful. And, upon some pained recollection, we realized that at no point during Saturday did we have a single drop of water. No bueno.

But, Palma itself es bien, with very friendly and welcoming locals.

Snafu.

2011-09-07T13:23:00.002-05:00

After Paris, we were bound for Palma de Mallorca, the largest city on the largest of the Baleric islands off of Spain. Not a place that normally would have made our itinerary but we were chatting about our trip in the early summer in our spin class. Our spin instructor is British and was giving us London recommendations and then invited us to Mallorca to stay with her at her house there. Apparently, Mallorca is a popular holiday destination for Brits as it is only a two hour flight and the weather is SIGNIFICANTLY nicer in that you can see the sun frequently.

We arrived at Paris-Orly for our 9:30 am flight bright and early. But, when we went to check in, all we got was a look of confusion in response. We were then told that our flight did not exist, that it did not operate on Saturdays and they had no idea why Orbitz sold us a flight that didn't exist and/or didn't inform us when it was cancelled. They directed us to talk to Iberia.

Iberia told us we needed to talk to Orbitz, as they were the ones who sold the flight. So, we pulled out our phones. Actually, initially, I was just calling but I got hung up on twice in the process so we both called to try to get this resolved. I was told that Orbitz would have to call Iberia so I was put on hold. For 25 minutes. On international roaming. I shudder to think what my phone bill is going to be.

Of course, once I am taken off hold, I am told that Orbitz can't reach any Iberia agents in Paris and the people they could talk to in the U.K. said that they could not do anything until Monday. Clearly, not helpful. Finally, I just handed my phone to the Iberia agent standing not 15 feet from me. Orbitz told me that they were sorry for the "inconvenience" but there was nothing they could do. Also known as, sorry but its not my problem that you're stranded in Paris even though I sold you a flight that does not exist. Thankfully, the Iberia agent took pity on us dealing with the Orbitz idiots and re-booked us on her own (even though technically, I guess, Orbitz was supposed to do it) to Palma via Barcelona.

Long story short: Orbitz is getting a letter.

Paris - Part 2.

2011-09-07T11:43:00.007-05:00

We loved the night bike tour so much that we decided to take the day tour too. And why not, it was a totally different route and half price since we already took one.

Prior to the tour, we strolled the streets and had a delicious lunch which was capped off with a nutella pizza. I had never had nutella before. But, a little kid was seated next to us and the look of pure bliss on her face while she ate the nutella pizza was enough for me. And, it did not disappoint.

The tour met at the Eiffel Tower again.

From there, we saw the Ecole Militaire, bullet holes from WWII still present because the French "don't plaster over history," the Dome Church, which contains Napoleon's tomb, and the Tuileries Gardens. In the Gardens, which once served as the house arrest location for Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette (a lovely place to be imprisoned), we stopped at a cafe. In honor of Louis, we had a glass of champagne. From there, it was back to the Louvre, a much different experience in the day:

We also saw the Champs Elysees, the Place de la Concorde, the Alexandre III bridge (under which, we learned that there is a club that gets going after midnight) and the Rodin Museum.

That evening, we decided to go to Montparnesse, which has Paris's only skyscraper at about 50 stories. From there, we were able to take some lovely pictures of Paris at night:

On our way back, we had a delicious dinner at a neighborhood cafe. At our server's suggestion, we had dessert. It was beautiful but this is all we left:

Paris - Part 1.

2011-09-07T11:29:00.012-05:00

We arrived in Paris around 12:30 pm. We had no problem getting on the metro (aside from purchasing the tickets) to get us to our hotel in the St. Germain district, 6th arrondisement. Our hotel came recommended from one of the partners we work with whose daughter spent a semester abroad and he went to visit a few times. It was charming, from the view from our window: to our key:
Can't misplace that sucker.

We had a late, light lunch and then strolled the lovely streets of Paris. We walked through the fantastic Luxemburg Gardens, saw the Orangerie and found Notre Dame: After about four hours, we came back to the hotel to change for our evening plan, a night bike tour of Paris: Fat Tire Bike Tours offered a four hour, nine mile bike ride around town. I was so glad we did this because all day in London, I kept thinking that I missed my bike. You can cover so much more ground on a bike. We met at the Eiffel Tower: Rode to Notre Dame and saw it at night, learning about the cleaning it recently underwent via laser. We made an ice cream pit stop (delicious). Rode toward the Latin Quarter and then hit the highlight of the tour, riding into the Louvre, with live music playing behind us: From there, it was a boat trip down the Seine with red wine and then a short, reckless ride back to the Eiffel Tower for the light show:

I loved the bike tour. I will say though that it was something that would NEVER HAPPEN in the U.S. We didn't sign any waivers. They didn't provide helmets. Our bikes were cruisers with no lights. A lot of the people on the tour pretty clearly do not ride bikes regularly, or at least do not ride them on big city streets. They did however provide us reflective vests:

City of lights, no doubt.

The Chunnel.

2011-09-07T11:22:00.003-05:00

We took the Euostar to Paris. It was a good decision for a couple reasons. First, it was one less flight on a trip that had four (which turned into five) in six days as it was. Second, it was just kind of cool to go by fast train. I'm used to the El as far as train speed goes.

Save for some really misbehaving kids and inattentive parents, it was a great way to get to France. I will say that I was a tad disappointed by the Chunnel though. I was kind of hoping for a Jaws III type clear tube around us, minus the killer shark. Instead, it just seemed like another tunnel we went through. There was no fanfare or even announcement. You only realized it was the Chunnel when it was much longer than your average tunnel -- about fifteen minutes.

A side note on transport by train in Europe: it is great BUT a pain for Americans to buy tickets. The Eurostar is the exception since you can buy them online. But for every other mode of public transportation, American credit cards don't work because they don't have some sort of chip. So, you have to wait in line with people who want to have their hands held every step of the journey when you just want to buy two tickets and get on with it. That said, if you're used to one public transportation train system, you can easily figure out others. Although, would it kill people to put a little "You are here" dot on their maps?

London.

2011-09-07T10:58:00.004-05:00

Once we arrived at Heathrow, we took showers and breakfasted at the British Airways lounge, on the assumption that we would just drop off our bags at the hotel and go. A forty minute ride on the Picadilly Line and a little dot following on our phones (God bless technology -- as a person with no natural sense of direction at all, the iphone dot is amazing) and we arrived at the Cavendish. Incredibly, our room was actually ready.

We took about fifteen minutes of quiet time, laying down, until the bells of St. James rang 10:00 am. We began our death march through London from Trafalgar Square:

Yes, that is a giant ship in a bottle:

From there, we walked through the National Portrait Gallery and headed south. We saw the WWII memorial to women and 10 Downing Street. We stopped at Churchill's War Rooms. They are really interesting. They were a bunker that served as the headquarters for the British war council. People lived in the dark underground for four years there. The rooms have been mocked up. There is a museum of Churchill's life as well. I've always had a fondness for the man -- he has some really fantastic quotes -- and I found it a very interesting stop.

We kept walking, walking past Westminster Abbey, toward Big Ben:

At that point, we were near Parliament and starving. Unfortunately, it was a real struggle for us to find a lunch spot. (We had this problem frequently -- we'd be near a tourist location but for our stomachs or bladders could not find restaurants.) We were successful ultimately though. With full bellies, we went back to the Abbey and walked though. I've been before but I still find it one of the more fascinating places in London.

The death march continued, heading up toward Green Park and Buckingham Palace. We had to take a break and catch a cab to Harrod's. In some ways, Harrods reminds me of Macy's on State Street, but about a hundred times fancier. Proof alone is that their food halls are like Whole Foods and their wine bar is a Veuve bar. We took the opportunity to have a super expensive, but delicious, glass of rose. From high brow, we slightly lower to TopShop across the street. A walk through that store confirmed my excitement for it to open on Michigan Avenue this week.

By this point, it was 4:30 in the afternoon and we were EXHAUSTED. But, so so close to making it through the day. We took the tube up to Notting Hill for dinner. One of our neighbors used to live in London and recommended a bar called the Churchill Arms. Just a neighborhood bar with a lot of Churchill memorabilia but attached to a cheap and delicious Thai place. It was really weird but perfect. We spent our last paper pounds on a cab, having to walk the last mile or so back to our hotel.

We were in bed by 6:30 and probably solidly asleep by 7:00. That's what you get for not really sleeping on the plane and trying to beat jet lag.

Business Class.

2011-09-07T10:51:00.002-05:00

In a raffle, I won two business class tickets to London on British Airways. The raffle ticket was $100. The tickets were worth somewhere between $3,000 - 4,000 pounds, according to one of our flight attendants. Winner winner, chicken dinner. (Literally, actually -- chicken was a dinner option on the flight over.)

It took a little effort to schedule the trip but man, was it worth it. We planned to go from London, train to Paris, fly to Palma, Mallorca, fly back to London and then back to Chicago. Flying business class on the front and back was awesome.

First, check the seat:

Lie flat bed. A zillion new release movie options. Unending flow of champagne. The attendants really pushed the alcohol -- I'm sure they wanted people to drink and pass out, making their jobs easy for the majority of the flight.

Second, the lounges. I like airline lounges generally but the BA lounge is wonderful. When you arrive at Heathrow, you can shower, sign up for free massages and facials (we didn't simply because we didn't have the time to waste), have a full breakfast and open bar (again, passed, since we arrived at 6:30 am in London).

Business class is really such a HUGE step up compared to the coach cattle car that I almost can't imagine first class. We walked through it and it seemed that there were pajamas involved along with bigger televisions. I guess that's what an extra $5,000 buys you. Our free.99 business class was more than sufficient for this girl.

Bait and Switch.

2011-08-23T11:03:00.004-05:00

My brother called me last night to tell me a story that has been cracking me up for a solid twelve hours now.

He recently added one of our aunts on my dad's side of the family as a friend on Facebook. We don't see that side of the family very often but he wanted to try to increase communication and whatnot. Well intentioned. What he didn't realize is that my dad had not communicated some pertinent details about my brother's life to his sisters. (My broseph did not realize it because he is very open about these details.)

So picture it:

My aunt, and her husband, live in the middle of Wisconsin. They have two sons. I'm not sure that it is fair to call them rednecks -- although it very well might be -- but I do think its fair to say that they are not particularly worldly and have a pretty limited exposure to things that are not the Republican dream. My aunt accepts the friend request and begins to peruse my brother's page. She sees that he is in a relationship with "Angelina." She takes the next natural step and clicks on Angelina's page to find that Angelina is actually J.:

Apparently, my dad didn't tell his sisters that my brother is gay, much less that his partner is a drag queen.

Ah, to be a fly on that wall.

Cubs "Fan."

2011-08-23T09:35:00.004-05:00

This is not an original observation. Not even close.

But, I am always struck by just how bad of baseball fans Cubs fans are. I'm sure there are some people who go to the games because they care about the game, know the players, actually watch the game, but those people seem to be a pretty silent minority. And, I say this as a person who is not a baseball fan. I'm a sports fan generally so I can certainly enjoy a baseball game when I'm there, but I don't care enough to follow it -- especially since I find baseball games dreadfully boring to watch on TV.

H organized a block of tickets for her various friends to attend last night's game. I hadn't been to a Cubs game yet this summer so I was in. I usually try go to at least two baseball games during the summer -- one Sox, one Cubs. I was in the Sox box on Saturday and last night satisfied my Cubs obligation.

I have never been to the Cubs box. I have always slummed it in normal seats at Wrigley. And, thanks to the bad baseball fan nature of the Cubs fans, I have a lovely time. Wrigley is a fantastic place to sit, eat a hot dog, have some drinks and chat with friends. If you happen to catch some of the game, great. If you don't, well, you probably missed a loss so no harm, no foul.

I guess after seven years, I've decided that if I were to be a baseball fan here, I'd be a Sox fan. But, I am a Wrigley fan.

Spoiled.

2011-08-21T09:52:00.002-05:00

This weekend is one of my favorites of the summer -- Air & Water Show weekend. There are plenty of people who object to the show for various reasons: waste of fuel; blatant military recruiting; first timers think the practice runs during the week are Chicago under attack; etc. I can understand all of these objections but I have trouble understanding that even those with logical objections can hate it because it is just. so. cool. The things pilots can do are very impressive. By all rights, I should be a hater for an "etc." reason -- my neighborhood is essentially the Show's center point and therefore overrun all weekend. But, I'm not. I'm an unabashed fan.

So, when I woke up Saturday morning and saw overcast skies, I was a tad concerned. When I was getting ready to leave the gym and saw the downpour (wind, lightening and thunder included), I was sad and not just because I had to ride my bike home in it. But, by 1:30, the rain cleared out and the planes were flying.

I am so spoiled sometimes. From my own balcony, I can see some of the maneuvers. But, my friends, L & A, have a fantastic, unobstructed view from their balconies and are always generous enough to invite us over to watch. Not only that, they are fantastic hosts. One year, there was mini cotton candy. This year, it was catered by Burrito Beach. Delicious food and a fantastic view? Cannot ask for anything more.

Or can you? As it happened, I ended up with all of the tickets to my firm's White Sox Box for last night's game. So, we just moved the Air & Water party down to U.S. Cellular Field. For some people, it was their first time in a box. For the rest of us, it was just nice to be in a box with nothing but our friends. Hot dogs, drinks, snacks, dessert cart, all topped off by a Sox win and great fireworks show? Who would have thought that a day that started off so ominously, with most of us anticipating that the day's activities would be rained out would end up so lovely. Just super.

And, spoiled.

Presto-Change-o!

2011-08-18T18:06:00.002-05:00

I was bored. So, I went, presto-change-o, from this:

to this:

with a pit stop in the middle of this:

My theme, if you can't tell, was RED!

Showereception.

2011-08-16T14:49:00.004-05:00

This weekend was O's baby shower, or actually, a cocktail reception honoring the birth of her baby girl. It was a lovely party. Several people have commented that it is the drunkest they have ever been at a baby shower, but of course, that's because it was a cocktail reception, not a baby shower. Very important distinction. We had a photographer there to take pictures so I don't have any to post currently, not even of the adorable cupcakes.

Instead, below is a picture of the pre-party, me sitting with the hosts' gigantic, young, energetic, labradoodle. He is a big, goofy boy who has no idea just how big he is. I think he's great. This actually took a few attempts to capture since he has doggy A.D.D. and cannot sit still very long.

Fire.

2011-08-14T16:12:00.003-05:00

A planter on a balcony a couple floors above me caught on fire this afternoon. No big deal, it was put out quickly by the owner. However, some passers-by on the street saw the flames and called 9-1-1. I only noticed -- and learned -- this when four fire trucks came screeching to a halt in front of the building. A whole lot of excitement for thankfully nothing. I did learn a few things:

1. The CFD has a fast response time to the building;

2. Either it was a slow day at the fire house, or four trucks is a standard response for a multi-story, multi-unit building; and,

3. The CFD employs attractive men.

Glam.

2011-08-14T10:16:00.004-05:00

I just love Glamorama. It is really one of my favorite events of the year. This year the show itself was particularly fun because I liked the musical guests the most out of those I've seen -- Cee Lo Green and Far East Movement. I enjoyed the clothes -- especially the Karl Lagerfeld capsule collection! -- and the spectacle.

Then, it was on to the afterparty at Macy's. The afterparty reminds me of prom afterparties but for adults. We ran around tasting the food and drinks, getting airbrushed tattoos (I got Mona Lisa on the inside of my wrist, which when I woke up on Saturday morning was also anywhere my wrist rested on body), and dancing.

They had a "graffiti wall" where we could leave our mark. Apparently, we (royal we here, as I was not the author) were feeling pretty confident Friday night:

There was a "photo shoot" sponsored by Patron. We have all watched our fair share of ANTM, know about not losing our necks and smizing, and yet, they seemed to catch all of us mid-something else. Nonetheless, I really like the picture since we all look happy:

Finally, there is always a goody bag. In addition to all the things pictured below, Macy's included a pair of flip flops. God bless them.

Glamorama is just fun.

Motto?

2011-08-09T17:21:00.000-05:00

Thanks, KWW. You know me well.

Unsolicited Advice.

2011-08-09T16:53:00.004-05:00

One of my favorite events of the year, Glamorama, is on Friday. It is a mix of fashion (fall lines) and music (this year, Cee Lo and Far East Movement are performing) with a fun after-party, replete with tasty food,drinks and dancing. It tends to be girls and gay guys. Goes without saying that a fun party dress is necessary.

Earlier this year, I bought a dress because it was a crazy good deal. White, long-sleeved jersey with a sparkly black waist band. The obvious drawback to the dress for this event in August is the long-sleeves. Last month, I was shopping with K and M and found a dress on super sale that a magpie would love. Sleeveless, short, silvery-blue sparkles everywhere.

I was texting with my friend, K. He and I have been friends since high school. We were joking about Glamorama so I decided to get his opinion on which option was better given all the circumstances. After seeing pictures of both dresses, he voted for the shimmer silver. Just for fun, I sent the same two pictures to my brother to get the gay guy perspective, seeing as how that demographic will be represented while K's straight guy demographic will be sparse at best on Friday. His response:

"The white one is fierce. Joel [his partner, and a drag queen] says wear a thong."

Duh.

But seriously, I was somewhat insulted that they thought I would need such advice. Apparently, Joel's sisters need the advice but I have those basics under control!

From Russia With Love.

2011-08-06T16:39:00.002-05:00

My friend L has been living in Moscow since last October working for the JDC. It is a not-for-profit organization with a Jewish focus, doing aid and rescue work around the world. In Moscow, she does a lot of work with the elderly and disabled kids, providing assistance and a safety net that Russia does not. She travels A LOT, some places seem awesome, some -- mostly the former Soviet Union countries -- do not.

After ten months, she is back in the U.S., doing a combination of speaking, fundraising and visiting in San Francisco and Chicago. She spent a couple days in New York a few months ago but that was more due to administrative snafus than actually getting to see many people.

Last night M and I scored a coveted weekend night date with L. She joined us at work happy hour, while we killed time until our table was ready at Frontera. We were all probably three drinks in by the time we got to dinner so not surprisingly, we had a fantastic time. Later, another friend joined us. We headed to Theory for some drinks, then moseyed up to the Hunt Club to try to dance (failure due to an awful DJ), and finally ended the night at Butch McGuire's. It was a super fun evening.

L is the happiest I have ever seen her in the eight years I've known her. She was great at the law but the law was not great for her. Despite the facts that she does not speak a lot of Russian, it has been slow going making friends in Moscow, and it is really far away from her family and friends, she loves it enough to re-up for another year. She took a huge risk by leaving the law but returning to her roots clearly suits her. It makes me wish I had roots to which to return.

Trap-easy!

2011-07-31T18:26:00.002-05:00

What started as an impulse decision on Friday afternoon became the most anticipated event of the weekend for me. M signed herself, me, and her mom up for a two hour trapeze lesson this afternoon. For some of us, calling it anticipation connotes optimism that was not there. There were several conversations involving possible death and/or paralysis. Not me though. I just thought it would be fun.

It helped that I had watched some videos of what we would be doing but I had no fear of injury, much less death. All I had was anticipation. Honestly, that anticipation did have a tinge of fear when I saw the very tall ladder we had to climb. And, I had a very difficult time putting my second arm on the trapeze. You're leaning out at a thirty degree angle over twenty feet high and all that is holding you is a little tiny girl with her hand on your safety belt. Putting the second arm on the trapeze took a lot of effort over fear.

BUT, once I was flying, IT. WAS. AWESOME. I loved flying. I especially loved swinging upside down, hanging by my knees. I loved the dismount back flip. I loved the catch. When I told my mom about this, she was not surprised. Apparently, I've always loved hanging upside down. And, to this day, I love going to play on the swings. Plus, a lot of the movements reminded me of my long ago synchronized swimming days.

The only negative is that the trapeze is rough on your hands, and strangely, calves. I'm pretty sure all of us are going to have some random soreness tomorrow.

2/3rds.

2011-07-30T11:19:00.004-05:00

Today was the South Shore Triathlon, or my case, the South Shore Two Thirdalon. I really hate the term Aquabike, even though that's what my 2/3rds is actually called, so I'm just going to pretend that it does not exist.

M and I were down at 63rd Street beach by 6:00 am. When we went to go pick up our packets on Friday night, the anxiety began to set in. All the triathlfreaks talking about what races they've done, times, nutrition, etc. made me nervous. I felt slightly better when I overheard other people this morning who were worried about a leg of the race or confused about what the swim course actually was. But, only slightly.

Once the swim started, nerves changed to frustration pretty quickly. The swim course was so shallow in parts that you actually could not swim. Where it was deep enough to swim, I did. But, not everyone judged depth the same way so I ended up receiving a few elbows, kicks and/or jumps from others. That said, I think the swim ended up being respectable. The bike was kind of fun. 20K is not quite 13 miles which isn't too far. I passed a few people but definitely got passed by a lot, including M. There's only so fast you can go on a hybrid rocking Chuck Taylors:

I waited for M to do the third leg of the race and then we hit the finish tents. I am pretty sure that today was the first time I've had corn on the cob and a beer before 9:00 am.

Update: I actually won my age group in the 2/3rds. Of course, if M had done the 2/3rds instead of 3/3rds, she would have won the age group. But, whatever, I will take it. I am currently undefeated in my age group -- mind you, last time, I was the only person in my age group.

Thirty-Five.

2011-07-24T09:16:00.002-05:00

Today is my parents' thirty-fifth anniversary. On July 24, 1976, with red, white and blue as her colors -- in honor of that month's celebration of the bicentennial -- my mom married my dad in Elm Grove, Wisconsin.

Today, my parents are in Colorado. My brother lives about an hour from them, although drives by their exit on the freeway every day on his way to work.

The thirty-fifth anniversay is either the coral or jade anniversary. To celebrate, my brother and I sent my parents a jade bonsai tree. For one thing, coral is a tough thing to find an appropriate couples present. For another, jade is a symbol of luck. And, I don't think you get to thirty-five years without some luck involved. I think its fair to say that they have gone through their better and worse times. They have definitely gone through the sickness part of the vows. That seems especially true over the last year or so. Hopefully, they will get to enjoy some of the health part of the vows in the coming years.

I think thirty-five years is really impressive. Especially today, when divorce is a 50-50 bet, thirty-five years is definitely an accomplishment. Oddly, many of my friends' parents have been married at least thirty five years. And, in my opinion, not coincidentally, a lot of my friends are still single. I think its possible that we see and admire our parents' marriages and want to emulate them. It is a high bar. An admirably high bar that I hope to meet some day -- although, I better get cracking!

Cheers to my parents on their thirty-fifth anniversary!

A Dark And Stormy Night.

2011-07-23T08:16:00.004-05:00

I slept like sh*t last night. Almost literally.

As I keep saying, no one moves here for the weather. Not quite six months ago, thanks to the Groundhog's Day blizzard, people were complaining because of the snow and cold. For the past week, people complained about the heat and humidity. It was five days straight of high 90s, heat indices hovering around 110, and high humidity. Now, we have some extreme thunderstorms. Last night, we received half a foot of rain, apparently a single-day high since they started keeping records in 1871.

As a result of all the rain, the sewage line in my building backed up. It flooded the garage, and slowly made its way up to my third floor bathrooms. Around 1:30, I woke up to this loud splashing noise and awful smell. As the storm raged outside, with each lightening strike or wind gust, the disgusting grew in cadence with the storm. I took this while it was happening:

As I type, I'm waiting on professional cleaners to arrive. (My homeowner's association fees paying a dividend.) Because, it looks like this right now:

Just be thankful I can't insert the smell.

**UPDATE: The cleaners are here and working their magic. However, it seems that I am going to have to replace the carpeting in my bedroom because the sewer water flooded on to it. As M pointed out, I've had a toilet in my bedroom and dining room at various points in this house's life so in the grand scheme, this isn't all that bad. **

Aquabike.

2011-07-19T08:58:00.006-05:00

Isn't aquabike a stupid-sounding term?

It makes me think that it's a comic hero's mode of transport.

Or, what Spongebob rides around town under the sea.

Or, some super-low impact bike-like contraption you use in a pool.

But, it's not.

Aquabike is what they call a triathlon without the run leg. A triathlon without the swim leg is called a duathlon. That sounds respectable. And, like the triathlon, its ameniable to punny phrases. Triathlon: if at first you don't succeed, tri tri again. Duathlon: just du it. Aquabike: . . . I've got nothing.

Despite the embarrassing, and/or vaguely insulting, but definitely nobody has a damn clue to what you're referring name, I'm now signed up for two aquabike races in the next month. I'm such a follower sometimes. M asked me if I wanted to do the South Shore Tri (Aquabike). Sure, seems manageable (750M swim, 20K bike, and M gets to run a 5K) and close to home as it starts from the 63rd Street Beach. Bonus. Then, she asked if I wanted to do the She Bangs Tri (Aquabike). That one is over an hour away from home -- meaning we need to get up at 4:00 am -- and the day after a cocktail reception we're hosting, but what the hell. (As it turns out, the She Bangs Tri, is the sprint distance while we are signed up for the Olympic distance. Technically, we are doing the Bangs Lake Triathlon (Aquabike) but since I like puns, I'm sticking with calling it the She Bangs.)

Random Re-cap.

2011-07-17T10:31:00.002-05:00

A few quick-ish thoughts from the weekend:

1. Mario van Peebles may look like a homeless man these days but he seems like a very nice guy. We had dinner at the restaurant formerly known as the Beachstro on Friday night. He stopped on his run to use the restroom. K loved him when she was in middle school so she recognized him. M and I frantically googled/wiki'd/IMDB'd him. When he was leaving, M yelled out "MARIO!" -- he turned around, came over to say hi, and let us take a picture with him.

2. We brought our friend K to the gym with us to do "the double." I love the double but I also think its hard. At the same time, sometimes I also think I'm just being a wimp. But, K is in good shape and by the time hour one was done she was vacillating between hating us, wanting to punch the instructor in the throat, and not wanting to move anymore. She pushed through to spin like a champ though. My point is that its nice to be validated that you're not just being a baby sometimes.

3. Ravinia can be a really lovely time. It is kind of like baseball to me -- if the weather is perfect, I think its a great way to spend an evening. And, last night, it was perfect. The day's weather started questionably, clouds and maybe rain potential. My knees told me that was just a grumpy Mother Nature rather than an incoming storm. By the time we arrived at Ravinia -- around 7 -- it was sunny, not a cloud in the sky, and no mosquitoes either.

4. We brought so much stuff with us to Ravinia, it looked like we were embarking on a week-long camping trip rather than three hours in the park. Table-in-a-bag, two chairs-in-a-bag, two RECLINERS-in-a-bag, three blankets, two coolers, and a grocery bag. Even with all that, we forgot something (corkscrew -- no big deal, some blanket neighbors let us borrow one).

5. Jennifer Hudson can SING. I know that's not news but the woman is really good and puts on a great show.

6. The good and the bad thing about getting older is the inability to sleep in. This morning was a touch too early for me for a Sunday (5:40) but the heat and humidity is coming this afternoon and I wanted to get in a bike ride and lake swim. It's 10:45 am and I rode 24 miles, swam 2 miles in the lake, walked to Walgreens, started my laundry, and had breakfast already.

7. I love pancakes. That is all.

Waiting.

2011-07-12T09:01:00.005-05:00

Living away from your family can be a blessing and a curse. I like to think that I'm blessed with distance so I often have perspective on family issues that those who live near to each other do not have. On the other hand, when there are health emergencies, it is an absolute curse. ESPECIALLY when your family members who are there are not good communicators.

Over the past year, my mom had a couple surgeries, both with worrisome complications and long recoveries. I spent many hours glued to my phone, waiting for updates. Last night, I experienced the same thing with my dad. He had been feeling sick and running a substantial fever for a day. He finally went to the doctor yesterday afternoon and upon arrival, his vital signs were so alarming that the doctor called an ambulance and rushed him to the hospital. One of the worst things about this for me was that my dad is supposed to be the healthy one.

For three long hours, that's the last thing I knew. My mom does not have text-capability on her phone and was not answering calls. My brother did not go to the hospital, taking my mom's "don't come until we know something" at face value. (Side note: Idiot. She should not have to sit alone, worried, no matter what she said. That absolutely would not have been if I lived there.) Finally, I told my brother to call the hospital to see if my dad was admitted. And, by golly, he was. And, he was having surgery! Finally, finally, my brother got in the car and drove up there. At that point, communication improved some. Nonetheless, it was a very long night, sitting and waiting to hear. Not that it would have been all that different if I was there but at least you know you're getting all the information real-time when you're there.

Around 1:15 am, I got the text saying that my dad was out of surgery, his infected gall bladder removed, and he was doing okay. Today, I wait to hear an update. The latest is that he is in the ICU, still suffering from a serious infection. He arrived at the hospital in septic shock and if he had waited much longer, he may have died, so I guess a serious infection is a step up.

** UPDATE: He got moved from the ICU to a regular room. That is a baby step in the right direction, even if the earliest he will be released is Thursday. **

Related, why is reception the worst in hospitals? I know there is a lot of machinery and such but of all the places where people want to be able to contact others, a hospital has got to be VERY high on the list. Someone needs to fix that.

Observations.

2011-07-05T08:57:00.002-05:00

After a long, fun weekend, a few wrap-up thoughts:

1. They grow the mosquitos big in the suburbs. I have the biggest bites and in some odd places. How does one get a mosquito bite on the knuckle of their index finger? Shouldn't I have noticed that? Mosquito ninjas. And, I'm pretty sure I got my first bite (on the inside of my foot, no less) the minute I stepped off the train in Wilmette.

2. Because I didn't go to the gym, I showered more at home this weekend than I have in the entire 14 months I've lived there combined. This was helped because I kept getting super-dirty. Lake swims, bike rides, beach time. All required showers so I was showering two or three times a day. Kind of a sad little record I set.

3. The city of Chicago did not put on its own fireworks this year. Instead, it left it to Navy Pier to put on the show. I was walking home from an impromptu BBQ last night when the Navy Pier show began. People were stopping on the street, pulling up chairs and the like. I felt vaguely unpatriotic because I didn't even really turn around to glance at them. But, the fact is, they do that exact show every Wednesday and Saturday throughout the summer. I just hope that the people who were camped out for the show were people who don't live downtown and don't see it twice a week.

4. I now have a very sad feeling that summer is over. Ever since studying for the bar, I have felt that way but this year is worse. When you study for the bar, the common wisdom is that you buckly down and get serious after the Fourth. While all of July is ahead and essentially free, I think every weekend in August through September 10 are spoken for with planned events. Blink and summer is going be gone at this rate.

Journeying.

2011-07-04T10:14:00.003-05:00

One of the people in M's department at work was hosting a BBQ last night. Plus, he lives close to the beach for optimal fireworks viewing. Sounds great, right? The only hitch is that it was up in Wilmette.

While one person suggested that we get car service, we went the frugal route and took public transportation. First, we took the 22 bus up to the end of its route -- I swear it stopped every block. A little over an hour later, we were waiting for the purple line to take us to its very last stop. Our host's directions told us that it was just a block and a half walk from there to his house. Even discounting the fact that we missed a turn and got off on a tangent -- we saw a HUGE and beautiful Baha'i temple which was our confirmation we were going the wrong way as you know that would be a landmark on the directions -- it was more like a half mile walk.

But, the journey was totally worth it. It was a fun party, great margaritas (and I don't even really like margaritas!), good people, and fantastic fireworks on the beach.

However, we took a cab home.

Take Two.

2011-07-03T10:45:00.002-05:00

This morning was take-two on the longer bike ride, after yesterday's unfortunate tire-pop. And, putting aside that M had to get a new tire, I actually think it was for the best. Yesterday morning was probably 80 with high humidity and no breeze. Today it was mid-70s with low humidity and strong breeze. Yesterday, the lake was pretty calm. This morning, there was a pretty strong chop. All in all, today was a better day for a ride and yesterday was a better day for a swim.

I've lived in Chicago for seven years but I've never been to the end of the lake path. That makes me feel kind of silly but I didn't have a bike until this year so I guess its understandable. We were supposed to ride for 90 minutes. That turned out to be 22 miles total, or almost to the end of the lake path on the south side. Its really pretty -- you get some surprising bits of nature, lake views, and the most lovely view of the city from the end of the path. Although, technically, our 45 minute turnaround point was a mile short of the end. Next time.

The plus side to riding south is that you get "open road" pretty quickly. The north side of the path tends to be much more cluttered with dogs, walkers, strollers, runners, rollerbladers, etc. The minus to riding south is that the turnaround means you have the wind in your face in the entire return trip.

By the time we got home, we were both starving. In fact, we pulled up to our building but decided that we had no time to waste in getting food so we rode to Elly's. I'd be lying if I said we looked good but we did put on an impressive display of eating. Pancakes, omlette, potatoes, coffee, all good, all gone. Great start to the morning.

Pop!

2011-07-02T21:38:00.003-05:00

M is doing a training group for an Olympic triathlon. She has done a couple triathlons before but a shorter distance. For the shorter distance, she never did anything that I'd count as "training" -- more like she'd go for a longer bike ride, come to swim class, and occasionally go for a run. Her Saturdays are generally a ride with her training group but because of the 4th, she was on her own. She asked me if I wanted to join her for her scheduled ride and, since the gym canceled classes for the weekend, I was in. We agreed to ride early in the morning because it was supposed to be hot. (And, it was. At one point, it was 92, but felt like 103 per the weather channel.)

We got maybe a mile south when all of the sudden we heard a POP! I thought maybe her tire cap had just come off. As it turns out, she rode over a piece of glass at JUST the right angle that cut through both the inner and outer tube of her tire. At first, she thought lesson learned, I will carry an extra tube and tools in the future. I have not learned that lesson yet. Especially because, even if she had a tube and tools it would not fix the problem -- she had to buy a whole new tire.

However, since we were at Ohio Street beach, we decided to jump in the lake. (We were planning on swimming after the ride anyway.) Mark it down -- July 2 was my first swim in the lake. The park district tells me it was 64 degrees. It really was not bad. I don't know how long it took to swim half a mile but I was not bone-chilled. Especially not after we had to carry her bike back home. Her bike is lighter than mine but it still is cumbersome and awkward on the shoulder so we ended up taking turns. By the time we got home, I was hot again.

The rest of the day was good -- farmer's market, breakfast and mimosas, garden center, ice cream cone, nap, grilled out, and dog walk. Tomorrow morning is take two on the bike ride. Hopefully, the only pop we hear will be from fireworks later in the day.

Big Money (Tree).

2011-07-02T21:28:00.003-05:00

Over a year ago, my parents gave me a money tree to mark my entrance to the 30-year club, also known as buying my first place and getting a mortgage. I was impressed with myself for just keeping it alive for a year. Until I realized that maybe my low expectations on my money tree were keeping me down. While talking to my mom last week, I asked if maybe the lil tree needed re-potting. She told me that if I re-pot it, the money tree would grow bigger. Small pot, small tree. Big pot, big money tree. To me, which I said as I was pondering out loud, that clearly means that big pot means big LOTTERY money tree. As my mom said, "get a bigger f'in pot."

So, before:

After:

Tonight is Saturday night aka Powerball night. I fully expect to wake a multi-millionaire.

Why Not?

2011-06-27T10:05:00.002-05:00

Post-meet, M and I went to brunch. After food and a few mimosas, we decided it was too pretty to go back home. So, we strolled down towards Michigan Ave.

As we walked by Sprinkles, we realized, it was the first time either of us have ever been by it when there was not a line out the door. So, we decided, why not? We had to share a cupcake. I guess neither of us are cupcake people because while good, there is no way either of us would stand in line to get one.

We ducked into 900 N. to comparison shop Lulu but got suckered into MaxMara by a sale sign. MaxMara is not a store I normally shop. But, on sale, its almost affordable for really nice clothing. So, why not? M and I tried on what seemed to me like the entire store, all of which was chosen by the shopper, not us, while sipping free prosecco. Definitely my idea of how to shop.

We wondered down to the new All Saints store. Have to say that I don't get it. To me, it looks like it falls into the H&M and Zara genre but their prices are definitely NOT -- dresses seem to average $300 there. But, the store still had the new-car smell and everything was merchandised well so it was fun to look around.

We decided to take the longer, but lake, route home. The sand at Oak Street was actually hot, even though it was probably only in the mid-to-high 70s. By the time we were getting up to North Ave, M decided that it was a good idea to jump in the lake. What's the point of living so close to the lake if you can't jump in it every once in a while? It would probably be a five minute walk home in soaking clothes. (Mind you, not really a good idea since it was only 62 and she is on antibiotics for a sinus infection.) I decided why not? We both climbed down a ladder, fully-clothed, and swam a bit. We definitely got some weird looks on our five minute walk home that we totally deserved. But, why not? It was invigorating.

Winner.

2011-06-27T09:51:00.004-05:00

Well, my question has been answered. Compared to the average person on the street (or splashing around in the pool), I'm a good swimmer. Compared to people who do masters swimming, I'm weak.

The best part of doing the meet was when I walked out to my car to head to the pool, bright and early Sunday morning. M had decorated it, high-school style, with signs.

We have now decided that if we ever do some sort of race together that we have team colors -- black and turquoise, based on my nail color this week.

Once I got to the pool in the suburbs, I knew almost immediately that I was WAY out of my depth (so to speak) in this. There were people wearing their state masters team shirts, the Razr suit (or some cheaper version of the serious-swimmer-suit), talking about how they sandbagged their times to be seeded in certain heats. They were doing dive starts. I was not even sure which lane was which and have never done a dive start in my life. Honestly, I should have cannonballed in -- it would have been funnier at least.

The race was not awesome. I was not used to swimming in a pool that length (50 meters, as opposed to my usual 25). The pool was clearly not usually configured at that length so the lane stripes on the bottom were kind of hard to see. I actually got disoriented on my turns, even though I was not flip turning. My time was way slower than what I expected and I just did not feel good.

All that said, I am a winner. Again, the beauty of being the only person in your age group.

Carb Loaded.

2011-06-27T09:08:00.002-05:00

My mom called me on Saturday afternoon to wish me good luck on my swim the next day. She half-jokingly asked me if I was going to carb-load that evening. Now, a 1500 totally does not require carb-loading. It's no marathon. So, I told her no. At least not intentionally.

But, I did end up carb-loading. On Saturday night, M, her mom, and I went to see Super 8. I was a little hesitant to see the movie because I knew it was sci-fi and that's not my favorite genre but it got good reviews so I went. And, I'm glad I did. The movie has everything a summer blockbuster should -- explosions, fear, emotion, etc. On my left was a guy who talked to the characters in the film, advising them to drop their guns or telling them they were dumb. On my right, I had the bonus entertainment of M -- its sometimes more fun to watch her watch a movie than watch the actual movie. At one point, her mom and I said that maybe we should have gone to see Bad Teacher or something because Super 8 was really an emotional rollercoaster for M.

I have trouble going to a movie without getting the delicious movie theater popcorn. Thankfully, M's mom also loves movie popcorn. We shared a giant tub, including butter. We both believe that if you're going to eat it, you should do it up right. It is not as if it ever started off healthy. And, I also feel the need to cut that popcorn salt with twizzlers. M came prepared with a two pound bag for all of us to share. Popcorn + twizzlers = carb-loaded. Dinner of champions?

Bits.

2011-06-21T08:54:00.002-05:00

1. When I entered my upcoming swim meet, my goal was to not come in last in my age group. Depending on how you look at it, I can already predict that I will meet that goal. Call me an optimist but since I'm the only woman in my age group, I'd say I'm the winner.

2. I've noticed a trend of people taking an already well-known phrase, tweaking it just slightly, posting it as their status and calling it a their-name-ism. I would never say, for example, "LP-ism: when life gives you limes, make mojitos." I can't decide if doing that is hubris or ignorance, to think that they really came up with that basic idea and phrasing -- around for ages -- is original to them.

3. Today is the first official day of summer. It is 9:00 am, 77 degrees and ridiculously humid. Definitely summertime-Chi.

Never Say Never.

2011-06-13T10:20:00.004-05:00

I cannot remember what motivated me to add the Justin Bieber documentary "Never Say Never" to my Netflix queue. I like documentaries. And, I think I remember hearing good things about the movie. I don't know. I forgot about it until all of the sudden it was at the top of my queue and in my mailbox.

Once you, as a 32 year old woman, have what is essentially a concert tour DVD of a 16 (17? I don't know, young) year old boy in hand, if you're not insane, you're at least a tiny bit embarrassed. I think the not-insane caveat is important because (1) there were some clearly adult women in the movie who were screaming and crying like the pre-teen fan girls; and (2) I recently read a story about NKOTBBSB fans who never grew up -- women in their 30s who have their offices plastered with pictures, t-shirts, and articles regarding their boy band of choice. Not normal.

But I digress.

After a very random and late Friday night out and full day Saturday, I was happy to lay low on Saturday night. Thankfully, M and my friend K, who was in town visiting, were of a similar mode and invited me up to hang out and have some pizza. I brought Never Say Never with me. It is MUCH better to watch that movie with a group. Here are some takeaways:

1. Unlike the heart, you cannot transplant vocal chords.
2. Boyz 2 Men, probably at their height of popularity around the time Justin Bieber was born in 1994, is now singing backup for Bieber. It was just sad.
3. We have Usher to blame for Bieber's penchant for sagging pants, vests and hoodies. My guess was that Bieber was trying emulate Usher's style. But, I learned that Usher actually sent one of his stylists to Bieber to style him.
4. Will and Jada Pinkett Smith seem like really great parents. When Jaden's first-ever performance got (surprise!) moved up, they seemed to drop everything to get a helicopter to be there to see it.
5. Taylor Swift has to be a little pissed that the fangirls have co-opted her hand-heart gesture. Of course, it is actually incredible that it took until the past few years for someone to use that regularly. Surely the Beatles or Elvis or someone should have come up with it.
6. It bears repeating that unlike the heart, you cannot transplant vocal chords. That seemed to be the vocal coach's go-to phrase. Every time she got any camera time, she reminded us.

P.S. I just heard that Bieber is the second highest paid celebrity under 30, having made $53 million last year. Kid is doing a whole lot of something right.

5K.

2011-06-05T19:39:00.003-05:00

I have never ran a 5K. I'm pretty sure that even though I've been on 5K charity walks, I've never walked a 5K (although, to be fair, I've certainly walked more than 3 miles before, just not as an organized activity). So what made me decide that I would do a 5K swim in Lake Michigan, I really can't say. I do not think I have ever swam 5K continuously even back when I was a swimmer. I certainly haven't done it recently. Hell, my personal best of continuous swimming was 2.5K.

Until today.

After boxing this morning, I planned on doing a long swim, thinking about 2500. My arms were tired from the boxing, but for some reason, I was feeling the water. I got to 2500 and thought, well, let's swim two miles (3300). I was still feeling just fine so I figured, what's another 700, for a nice even 4000. By the time I got to 4000, I was getting tired and hungry. But, I had a Finding Nemo moment, with a little voice telling me to "just keep swiming." Plus, I checked the clock and had about ten minutes to end on an even number in the water. So, I ended up swimming 5000. I certainly did not swim it quickly but now I know that I absolutely can do it and have the next three months to work on doing it both in the lake and faster.

Memorial Day.

2011-05-30T17:29:00.004-05:00

Today is Memorial Day and it seems like Chicago suddenly decided it is summer. After yesterday's ride, both M and I were chilled for hours. Today could not be more different. It is sunny, hot and humid. It is fantastic.

I rode to the gym, lifted and swam, rode home. M and I walked toward the beach, with a pitstop to buy sunglasses. We got there around 11, securing some lounge chairs at the place formerly known as the Beachstro. It is under new management and that new management foolishly changed the name to something bland and unpunny. On the plus side, they serve prosecco. On the minus side, its in a plastic cup of a size to make the price insulting. We switched to -- gasp -- beer. A beer was actually perfect in the weather. By the time we left at 2, people were stalking our chairs. Early birds get the lounge chairs.

We headed home, to shower and change. We strolled down to Lulu (they FINALLY are selling biking gear with reflective strips on the back. It seems like an idea they should have had a long time ago. It's Lulu so it is, of course, expensive perfection. The shirt I wanted was sold out in my size at both stores in the area AND online. It just got into stores on Thursday if that tells you anything but what an obvious but brilliant idea it is) and Anthropologie. I found a lovely new dress to come home with me. There are so many biting flies out that I almost gave up on the dress because the line to check out was so long and the flies were so bad. But I preservered. Later, we headed back out with Scout to have dinner at Bistro Margot. While sitting on their patio, we noticed people walking by with ice cream cones. We headed in that direction to track down the ideal ending to our day. Not to state the obvious, but ice cream is so good. We both made a bit of a mess of ourselves with dripping cones as we walked home but it was perfect.

It's now Monday night and I have a belated case of the Sunday blues. Good thing today was really a low key but wonderful day. As M said, I think tonight we will both sleep like little kids in summer: tired from playing, too much sun, and with ice cream in our bellies.

Bike the Drive.*

2011-05-29T12:46:00.008-05:00

Thanks to the seasonally inappropriate weather we've had this spring, I have not been riding my bike as much as I anticipated. I'm kind of a wimp. And, although she is not a wimp like me, I don't think M has been either. Putting that aside, we both signed up to Bike the Drive. As we don't do anything half way, this time literally, we decided we were going to ride the whole thirty miles. The ride kicks off from Grant Park on Jackson. You can ride south on Lake Shore Drive to 57th and return (total of 15 miles), or, ride north to Hollywood (also 15) or you can do the whole loop. We figured that if we started at 7, we'd be able to do the thirty by 9:30 when riders needed to be off the road, before it opened again for car traffic.

This morning dawned on the cool side (my phone told me it was 57) and with heavy fog. We needed to make a pit stop at the gym to get bike shoes so we actually left at 6:35. M saw people at the gym who had already completed their ride by then (I have to assume they only did 15, since the ride didn't start until 5:30)! We were ready to roll.

We head south first. The fog was so heavy that as we rode past Soldier Field, you could barely tell it was there. Once we made the turn to head north, the fog actually got worse. For the most part, you could not even tell there was a lake, right beside you. Despite that, it was a fun ride. M and I rode pretty much together the whole time -- we're optimistic that we'll be pictured together by the photographers stationed on the course. There was a real variety of riders out: the serious-looking triathlfreak types (including one dude who had his racing helmet on), kids pedaling hard with their little legs on their little bikes, people riding with their dogs in a trailer behind, lots of bicycles-built-for-two, and even one built for three. The ride volunteers yelled out all sorts of obvious advice --"Keep pedaling your bike" was my favorite -- and cheered people on like it was a race. It was a really fun ride.

That said, I think both of us were starting to feel the pain by the end. Who knew your seat would end up so hard? We didn't really time ourselves but we think we did the thirty in an hour and forty minutes, which I think is relatively fast (which we weren't trying to be, we just don't do things slowly generally, I guess). I was really happy to have a nice warm shower. And, despite the chill and mist, we were actually lucky. The weather got significantly worse during the course of the morning, as a big thunderstorm moved in.

*Picture not representative of our weather.

Commemorative.

2011-05-24T09:10:00.003-05:00

One of the partners I work with always brings small gifts for people he works with from his travels. And, he travels A LOT. Thanks to him, I have little souvenirs from places like Nepal, Singapore, Japan, and most recently, London. He had a case over the past couple years that sent him to London relatively frequently so I have received a variety of London souvenirs. They tend to be my favorites. Prior to his most recent trip, my favorite was a chocolate bar with the "Keep Calm and Carry On" slogan on it. First, I love candy. Second, I really enjoy that slogan. So British.

But, his most recent souvenirs are the clear winners. I walked into work this morning to find two things sitting on my desk. One was a very cool set of coasters from the British Museum that show London Icons, including Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, the Eye, London Bridge, and City Hall. The second was my new favorite:

Update.

2011-05-24T09:04:00.003-05:00

After a light circuit workout this morning, I decided to time myself on a 1500. As I said, I wasn't going to do it if I was going to be last based on the previous year's results. That meant all I had to do was swim under 27 minutes. Even with my not-always-reliable counting, I think I can do that. Based on what I believe was 1500 and with two equipment-fix breaks (like 5 seconds max), I came in under 24:30. Hopefully, by June 26, I will be even faster but that's good enough for me to enter my first swim meet since I was 13.

Spring Ritual.

2011-05-23T09:27:00.003-05:00

One of the fantastic -- but incredible, in the true sense of the word -- aspects of my street is that there is either an actual or de facto covenant that requires people to plant the street with flowers. Even the USPS mailboxes have flower boxes on them. While I don't have a place that falls into that covenant, I do have a small amount of outdoor space on my balcony. M and I both feel some sort of obligation to make it pretty . . . that, and we both really like having flowers. So, for the second year, we did what is becoming our spring ritual.

Yesterday was one of those absolutely beautiful, this is why we suffer through Chicago weather, kind of days. It was a planting kind of day. (And, it seemed like half the city agreed with us on that one.) We got in the car and trekked up to Gethsemane Garden Center, which is a three block flower and plant extravaganza in Andersonville. I like to joke with my mom, telling her that she failed me as a mother because she knows a lot about flora and I do not (clearly, its her fault, not mine for not paying attention), so a garden center can be overwhelming to me. This year, though, I came prepared with a suggested list straight from my mom. We had some tricky cart-driving and trying to fit all of our flowers into the car without crushing them too badly but we were successful. I think I ended up with double begonias and impatiens, although I really don't know.

My favorite part of the ritual is our pit stop at McDonald's for a vanilla cone on the way home. My least favorite part of the ritual is the carrying the flowers in once we get home. At least this year, the soil was purchased earlier so it wasn't quite as bad. One huge, dirty mess later, I have flowers on my balcony looking pretty and happy. Sitting out on my balcony once it was complete, I felt like summer was here. (Mother Nature does not seem to share the sentiment, seeing as how our predicted high for tomorrow is 57.)

Sweet Victory.

2011-05-11T14:56:00.000-05:00

I like to swim. If you believe my mom, I always have. Dove right in the deep end at age two and just dog-paddled around, happy as can be, while causing a mini-panic attack on deck based on the belief that I would drown. For a portion of my youth, I was a synchronized swimmer, spending something like 20 hours a week in the water. After I quit that, I didn't get in a pool for probably five years -- it took me that long to dry out from being water-logged.

These days though, I swim two or three times per week. I am a decent swimmer. No frills -- I rarely flip turn -- but I get it done. More importantly, I like it. I really enjoy swimming when the sun streams in the windows and hits the water. It just makes me happy. However, I have no idea what kind of swimmer I am compared to others -- speed, endurance, no idea. Compared to the other people that tend to swim at the same time as me, I'm Michael Phelps but they just learned to swim a year ago. Not really a great comparison.

This morning, my "swim coach" suggested that I consider participating in a swim meet in June. It would be a 1500, which is a distance I can swim without any problem other than counting it. My mind has a tendency to wander off when I swim -- I succumb to the rhythm of breathing, kicking and stroking, rather than remembering that I just swam 400 or whatever. I looked up the results from last year to see how fast I would have to be not to embarass myself. I don't think anyone but me cares about it but I just do not want to come in last. Aim high, right?

Considering participating in a swim meet brought me back to my very first meet as a synchronized swimmer at the age of nine. I took first place. My prize for winning was a one pound bag of M&Ms. There may have been a blue ribbon involved as well but I distinctly recall the M&Ms. Between winning and getting candy, it's no surprise I have spent so much time in the pool in my life.

Slightly.

2011-05-06T09:08:00.004-05:00

At least among my lawyer girl friends, I've noticed a commonality: we are all readers. I don't mean that we are literate -- kind of a prerequisite for our jobs -- but that we all like to settle down with a good book sometimes. I'm not sure if it is a function of our profession's generally boring reading material, but most of us tend to read lighter books (e.g., chick lit) when we are reading for pleasure. We also all seem to enjoy a good Us Weekly too but that's neither here nor there. After talking to L, my friend who is currently living in Moscow (which is apparently, a sea of either men with entirely unacceptable behavior or ex pat's seeking 23 year old blonde supermodel russian women) I realized that our reading for pleasure has taken a slightly masochistic twist.

When you're over thirty and single, reading chick lit can be a little painful. The books tend to be pretty formulaic -- poor, sad, single, ugly duckling becomes a swan through the love of an unexpected man and lives happily ever after, only after surviving a few obstacles in the form of career, friends, or family -- but generally decently written. I can't decide if I like to read them for hope or out of masochism.

My friends, L and A, were on the host committee for the Chicago early screening of Something Borrowed. When they invited us to attend, the immediate response from two of them was "I LOVED the books." So, I decided to read the books (Something Borrowed and its sequel, Something Blue) last weekend so I could compare the movie to the book. Only three pages into the first one, I sent M a text complaining that it hit a little close to home. Main character reminiscing upon thirty about what she thought her life would be -- happily married and kidded with a job she loved -- compared to her single life toiling as a lawyer at a big firm "by definition, miserable." Now, I was not -- and am not -- miserable working at a big firm and I never was a dream about the future kind of kid. But, none the less, I can sympathize. That said, the books are really an enjoyable read. The movie screening was fun too, although I definitely preferred the book to the movie.

Change Is Good.

2011-05-03T09:45:00.002-05:00

I'm a self-admitted creature of routine. Part of that routine for me is the gym. I joined my current gym about two and a half years ago and with that, became a morning worker-outer, something I never was previously. Because my gym routine means starting my mornings with a workout, I almost never shower at home. I haven't bought shampoo or conditioner in over two years. I almost never buy razors, shaving cream, or lotion (or water or apples, for that matter, since they too are provided by the gym).

I'm such a creature of routine that despite the fact that my Tuesday/Thursday morning class has become predictable, monotonous, and easy, even for me, I continue to go. I just don't know how to get ready in the morning at home anymore.

So you can understand that I was entirely mentally unprepared for an actual tough workout this morning. The usual instructor is apparently out of town and one of my favorite trainers is covering for her this week. It was an hour of sweaty, hard, work for once. Circuits of push ups/squats/sit-ups/lunges, shoulder presses/side steps/rows/bicep curls all with a band, push ups with a jump/hill climbers/bag push/jump lunges, and wood chops/sit-ups with a twist/reverse crunches/spiderman crunches all with a medicine ball. (I swear, it is a harder workout than it reads.) While I was tired, it was actually a really invigorating change from the routine. And, I will be mentally prepared for Thursday!

Inaugural Ride.

2011-05-01T14:46:00.002-05:00

I took my bike for its inaugural ride this morning. It was fairly sunny, about 60, slightly windy, all around delightful. I rode it to the gym. It was such a nice day that my boxing class got moved outside.

Sadly, its maybe two hours later now and the temperature is dropping and the rain is moving in. I may not get to ride my bike again for a week at this rate but at least its inaugural ride was wonderful.

Anniversary.

2011-04-27T09:43:00.004-05:00

I didn't realize it initially but yesterday was the one-year anniversary of my induction into the 30-Year Club. (Coincidentally, it was the one-year anniversary for M living in the building -- that anniversary for me is still some weeks away.) While I don't necessarily love all of the joys of home ownership, including the property taxes, repairs, and fear of depreciation, I don't regret the decision at all. I love getting a refund thanks primarily to buying my place. I love my neighborhood.

The only reason I did realize it was because my realtor sent me anniversary flowers. Pretty:

Potato, Po-tah-toe.

2011-04-21T10:16:00.003-05:00

Easter is this Sunday. As you know, I'm not particularly religious so it is generally not a huge deal to me. However, this year, Sunday has more impact for two reasons.

First, it is the end of Lent and therefore the end of my self-imposed candy hiatus. I'm happy to report that my candy cravings did finally stop but it will be nice to have mints again and the occasional candy indulgence.

Second, M is hosting an Easter dinner. Normally, I at least consider going up to Wisco to visit my grandmother but she is having some teeth/mouth issues and is no shape for company or food. So, this Sunday I am contributing a potato dish and angel food cake to the dinner. The potato dish is this family favorite that I've been making (or helping to make) since I was a kid. I stopped at the grocery store last night to get the ingredients. I was so proud of myself for being able to get them off the top of my head.

That is, until I got home and realized that I forgot the potatoes for my potato dish! The main ingredient. And, then I talked to my mom and realized I forgot another ingredient and confused a third. Whoops.

s-NO-w.

2011-04-18T09:03:00.006-05:00

I no longer have it in me to be polite about this. Or, to laugh it off, with a "no one moves to Chicago for the weather." I've lived here long enough to know that spring in Chicago is generally a Tuesday in April. (This year, it happened to be a Sunday that I was in Colorado.) But this:

This is bullshit.

It was bad enough that the ten day forecast does not break 50. Snow is just rude -- insult to injury. Further proof of how bad this is: Chicago set a spring snowfall record today.

Please, please, hurry, summer! I NEED the sun and warm.

Meathead.

2011-04-12T08:59:00.003-05:00

I was in Colorado over the weekend visiting my family. I can sum up my four days in four words: eat, bake, eat, grocer, eat, cook, eat. I ate like it was my job. It was fantastic.

Thankfully, my parents have joined a gym and got me a guest pass. The gym is a normal gym, as opposed to my fancypants gym. What I forgot about normal gyms is that they have meatheads. (I am not sure why fancypants gym doesn't have meatheads but our equivalent is really just men standing around in the weightroom, not real meatheads.) If you've never met this gym character, let me give some helpful hints. They might be a meathead IF:

- They carry a gallon jug of water around with them;
- The armholes on their shirts are cut down to their waists;
- They wear a weight belt, just walking and standing around;
- Their workout is 90% standing, 10% lifting, no cardio;
- Of that 10%, 90% of the lifting involves swearing and grunting.

Now, I think I know what I'm doing generally speaking at a gym. Nonetheless, meatheads intimidate me a bit. I feel sorry for new-to-the-gym people. They also make me laugh a bit. But, only on the inside. I would not laugh in their face -- beware of roid rage.

Belated Birthday Bike.

2011-04-04T09:47:00.005-05:00

For the first time in a few years, I actually had something that I wanted for my birthday: a bike. After borrowing M's cruiser last summer, I decided it would be really nice to have my own bike. Something about riding a bike is kind of child like fun. Throw in the added bonus of getting some exercise on the commute and the potential risk of life (depending on when and where you ride), and its definitely a more exciting way to get to work when the weather cooperates.

Miss Pearl, the cruiser, is a really easy and fun bike to ride. Unfortunately, she is a big girl and a little bit of a challenge to carry up and down stairs, especially if you're wearing work clothes. Also, you can only borrow your friend's bike for so long before you wear out your bike-welcome, you know? So, I stated my intention to buy a bike and my parents and grandmother happily gave contributions towards it. I knew generally what kind of bike I wanted (a hybrid -- light frame but not a road bike with their skinny little tires and clips as I have no intention of racing the bike and am not THAT good of a rider) and where to get it. I procrastinated buying it for a good while but the weather is definitely starting to warm up and I wanted to be prepared.

So, yesterday, after the gym, I went and bought my bike. (I knew I had to go directly from the gym, no passing go, no stopping for snacks, or I wouldn't do it.) It wasn't difficult. I told one of the employees my intended use, he showed me a couple, I test rode around a track (fun!), and got a whole bunch of accessories (lights, lock, water bottle cage, kick stand!) installed and was on my way home with my new bike. He is currently living in my closet. The weather is rainy (side note: with all the rain in the forecast, I'm considering building an ark, just to be safe. And, I expect A LOT of May flowers) so he has not been taken on his inaugural ride, unless you count M riding him in my living room.

I cannot wait. Just another reason that I want winter to be over already.

Lent-ils, update.

2011-04-01T09:47:00.005-05:00

I just read a story that makes me want to quit my Lent endeavor. Well, not makes me want to quit but rather provides a very rational justification, at least in my own head. Check it out: http://ow.ly/4rbDR .

That's right -- people who eat candy and chocolate "tend to have smaller waists, weigh less and have lower body mass index (BMI) than those who don't indulge in these treats." I want a smaller waist, weigh less, and have a lower BMI.

Clearly, I need to re-think the health risk of maintaining my Lent resolution for the next three weeks.

P.S. I have considered that this report might just be a April Fool's joke but that seems too mean.

Lent-ils.

2011-03-28T22:09:00.002-05:00

As of tomorrow, it will be 21 days of no candy as a result of my decision to observe Lent this year. I've always read -- and, more importantly, believed -- that it takes three weeks to make or break a habit. My primary purpose for observing Lent was to break my candy dependence. No more thoughts of sugar plums (or Twizzlers, or Skittles, or Reeses' pieces, or Snickers) dancing in my head.

Unfortunately, it seems that my candy habit is strong. So strong that I almost broke this weekend. I was walking through CVS and it took almost all my restraint to not supermarket-sweep the candy aisle. On the plus side, I guess I have more restraint than I knew.

Twenty-one down, twenty-five to go.

Scout.

2011-03-28T09:15:00.004-05:00

M has been considering getting a dog for roughly a year now. She has had her dog name chosen since she was 7. She fairly regularly checked the Anti-Cruelty website for new arrivals and went by to visit several dogs. Despite that, I have to say that I think I'm at least partially responsible for yesterday's events.

On Saturday, we had talked about going bike shopping. I want to get a bike and M has a couple so was willing to help me out. But, I tend to get overwhelmed by options and procrastinate making such purchases (see, e.g., how long it took me to decide to buy a place). Anyway, I wasn't feeling it. Next weekend, for sure. I want to have my bike so I'm prepared when the weather FINALLY gets warmer.

After kickboxing on Sunday, we went to get some food, watch some hoops. I don't know what possessed me but I pulled out my phone and pulled up the Anti-Cruelty website. I guess I wanted a dose of cute puppy. And, we got it. We decided to go over and check them out in person. Once there, there was so much cute. Dogs are great.

M found herself drawn to one dog in particular. Took him out to see how he was. And, he was a nice dog. Calm but still playful and curious. Seven years old -- so, thankfully, no puppy crazy -- and housebroken. He was cute and has the potential to be even cuter once his hair grows back (he is a Lhasa Apso and hair got matted so they had to shave him). Even with his seasonally-inappropriate Christmas sweater on, he was the dog for M.

A mere two and a half hours later (sarcasm right there, it was ridiculous how inefficient and prolonged the process was given how cursory the interview appeared to be), we were walking him out the door. Despite the rude comments of some drunk guys about his sweater (and a very nice congratulations from a cop walking behind us), we got him from the dirt and grime of the shelter, to the clean and fancy of Trump, without problem. After buying out PetCo, it was off to his new home.

I left M for some time with her new dog but came back for dinner. As we were walking back from picking up food, we passed the same cop (such a small world Chicago can be sometimes) who asked how the new dog was doing! And, I'd say he's doing well. With the exception of his replacement shirt. We guessed wrong on what size he is. He kind of resembles a newly-out gay man rocking his first too-tight nautical shirt at Fleet week currently. Isn't he cute?

Lent.

2011-03-09T09:50:00.005-06:00

I don't consider myself to be Catholic (or even religious really), although I technically am. Because it was important to my grandparents, my parents had both my brother and I go to Sunday school at a Catholic Church until we made it to First Communion. Somehow, I have managed to retain almost no knowledge from those years. Every Easter I get confused by Pontius Pilate's role and have to google Lent. It is probably no surprise that I rarely give anything up for Lent. But, last week, one of the nicest partners invited me to a Mardi Gras/pre-Lent lunch which got me thinking about Lent and giving something up.

That made me realize that I NEED to give something up: candy. I love candy. I actually think about Twizzlers. I generally try to exercise restraint but lately, I have slipped down the Twizzler-paved slope into harder candy. Apparently, Twizzlers are my gateway candy.
So,I am giving up candy for Lent. Forty-six days. The only reasonable thing -- to me -- to do was to mainline sugar for all of Tuesday. I had Twizzlers for breakfast, a mid-morning Skittles snack and maintained a high blood sugar with Werther's Originals all day. Thankfully, for my blood sugar and avoiding a day of diabetes, the Mardi Gras lunch that started it all was a delicious cup of split pea soup and steak salad. However, my mouth still feels the sugary effects of my last pre-Lent day this morning.

Damn You, Lulu.

2011-03-05T15:21:00.002-06:00

I've been aware of Lululemon for years. Even if you don't know the name, you know what is is. It is the company that makes magical workout pants. Transformational. If you've ever seen a girl at the gym whose bottom half just looks incredible, I'd put money on the fact that she was wearing Lululemon.

Two things held me back from trying Lulu though:

1) The pants are very snug. I think that's part of the magic somehow. But, as my lower half is not necessarily my friend most days, I've never really wanted to have them encased and showcased.

2) Their clothes are not cheap. The most reasonable tank top is $39. The cheapest pair of crop pants are $68.

But, given my recent dedication to the gym, I actually NEED to replace most of my gym clothes. They are either too big or too worn out as I haven't bought any new gym clothes in probably two years.

So, I recently dipped my toe in the Lulu pool by buying a pair of crops and a tank top. It was the free shipping that convinced me to do it. And, it was magical. The clothes are so soft. So comfortable. They have such a following that their online stock sells out weekly (did I mention free shipping?). I actually started following them on twitter just to find out when it was replenished.

Today, I went to the store (technically, two stores, to find the right size) with M to get a baby present for someone at the gym. I ended up diving in headfirst into the Lulu pool. Now, I have three pairs of pants and five tanks. You do the math.

I Can See Clearly Now.

2011-02-21T15:39:00.003-06:00

Or, at least as clearly as I ever did. I went back to the eye doctor today after two solid weeks in glasses and five different kinds of eye drops every two hours. My good patient-ness was rewarded with the okay to put my contacts back in. Optimistically, I had brought a new pair with me. I put them in immediately. Of course, they felt odd after having been in glasses for awhile.

That said, YAY!

No more constant headache or nausea. I have a full field of vision again. It's the little things. Eye doctor did suggest that I look into lasik or PRK. Seems like a prudent suggestion. I think the only teeny tiny negative to being back in contacts is that my morning routine just gained a few minutes by being able to wear eye makeup again.

Hurry!

2011-02-19T20:42:00.004-06:00

I went to Naples, Florida for a couple days this week to assist at a panel at a conference. I do not have much to report about the conference itself: got some CLE, chatted with some people, went home.

However, I was reminded of just how wonderful the sun and the warm is. It was 78 degrees when I landed on Wednesday late afternoon. On Thursday, I worked outside in the sun for a couple hours. I was actually almost hot. On Friday morning before I had to check out, I spent an hour sitting out on the balcony, feeling the sun warm my hair. I drove with the windows down. It was really lovely.

Summer, please hurry back. I miss you.

Confused.

2011-02-19T18:31:00.004-06:00

As I was walking south on inner Lakeshore Drive toward 900 North today, a couple stopped me and asked if I lived here. They immediately confessed that they weren't from here and were lost. They wanted shopping recommendations but said "we were just were at 900 North -- that's not for us!" So, I asked what type of shopping they were looking for instead. Response: "Target, KMart, Walmart!" I think they were either saying that the stores at 900 North were either not their style (they weren't fashion-forward folks) or not in their budget, but I'm not sure which.

Color me confused.

First, I'm pretty sure that Target is the only store with any presence in the city and those locations are nowhere near walkable from where they were.

Second, why bother coming to Chicago? I'm pretty sure they could find those in their home town. (While I don't think they were Canadian based on their accents, my friend pointed out to me that Canadians don't have Target. I'm willing to accept a Canadian exception to my story, as I do like Target.) Assuming it was a budget issue, I think window-shopping Michigan Avenue can be pretty fun. The style issue would explain a lot, but again, I just don't see why you'd want to go shopping in Chicago. It's not like the Michigan Avenue association tries to mislead people into thinking its a budget-friendly mile.

I ended up giving them some vague directions about walking west on Division and wandering south down State. I really don't think I was helpful but I just could not wrap my mind around it.

Ouch Updated.

2011-02-08T16:26:00.002-06:00

When I went to the doctor this morning as a follow up to yesterday's visit, with little improvement in my eye, he was concerned that I had a corneal ulcer and referred me to a cornea specialist. I can't say that the hospital ever ocurred to me as a potential birthday celebration location, but there I was. And, I do have two small "infilatrates" close to my visual axis. As a result, I have been given the gift of hourly eye drops and daily doctor's appointments to make sure it improves and does not cross that axis (which would affect my vision).

They told me that I wear my contacts too long during the day and that probably was the cause of this. They also gave me given the backhanded compliment that 12-15 years of contact wearing without an infection was pretty impressive. I had to correct the doctor that today actually marked my 20 year anniversary, as I think my parents let me get contacts when I turned 12.

I have come away with a silver lining from this: my seven year cycle has been satisified on the very first day. When I was eleven, I had a kidney biopsy. When I was eighteen, shoulder surgery. When I was twenty-five, I was diagnosed with my rheumy. Now that I'm thirty-two, my medical malady has already been met. No more waiting and wondering. Shoe has dropped. Whew.

Ouch.

2011-02-07T10:12:00.003-06:00

Yesterday, my eye felt irritated. This morning, it was light sensitive and flat out painful. I was at the eye doctor's office before they even opened. While it appears that I just have some cornea irritation (not sure yet if it is scratched), it hurts! As an extra bonus, I will have to wear my glasses for the next few days.

Full Weekend.

2011-02-06T18:06:00.003-06:00

Beginning with Friday evening's Chinese New Year dinner and starting early on Saturday with Cycle for Survival, this weekend has been full of fun. After Cycle was done, our team went for lunch at Italian Village. M and I walked back to Trump, with a coffee pitstop, to drop off our gym shoes and shower. We went home for 15 minutes to change and then headed back out to Macy's for a black history month event. Eunice Johnson, of Johnson publishing, archived 9,000 of her couture dresses from the last forty years. Macy's had a few of these gorgeous dresses on display, along with cocktails. Johnson Publishing is responsible for Ebony and Jet. To celebrate, Macy's was taking pictures and doing mockups of you as an Ebony cover. So, M, A and I have our Ebony cover shot together.

From there, M and I needed a cheese plate break at Macy's wine bar in the Walnut Room. Such a deal -- $9 for a really great plate. After our snack, we did a little shopping. To combat the winter blues, we both got sundresses. Unsurprisingly, there isn't a huge demand for sundresses in Chicago in February so they were on sale. From there, we had tacos and bubbly at Theory.

Today, I awoke to the sound of a snowblower. I started my day by trying on my sundress again, hoping for warmth. (It didn't work immediately but by 1:00, it was a balmy 37. Not quite sundress weather but the first time above freezing in a long time, maybe in 2011.) Then, kickboxing and an early birthday brunch at Hub 51 with the girls. O even made me cupcakes! The combination of huevos rancheros and cupcakes left me with a food coma by 3:45. As a result, I spent the remainder of the weekend on the couch, watching the superbowl and doing nothing.

Cycle for Survival!

2011-02-06T17:48:00.003-06:00

Saturday morning was Cycle for Survival. We joined 600 people spinning for four hours to raise money for rare cancer research. We were part of a five member team so we really only had to spin for about 45 minutes each over the course of the event. M LOVES these types of things so she brought the enthusiasm, beginning at 7:30 am and not ending until noon. When we weren't on the bike, we were singing, dancing and cheering our rider on. We probably annoyed the people in our immediate vicinity initially. Especially considering some people rode four hours straight. Those people were tired and didn't have cheerleaders. We would hope on the bike, fresh legs, and have four people cheering us on. But, we had a blast and ultimately got other people to join our fun. So much so that we were named as the best cheerleaders.

The spin instructors were awesome. The energy in the room was fantastic. There were cancer survivors present who were inspiring. The only real negative is that it did not smell good in there by hour two. By hour four, it was super smelly, hot and sweaty. Even that had a positive though -- my shower when it was over was easily the best of 2011.

Year of the Rabbit!

2011-02-06T17:35:00.003-06:00

Thanks to O, for the second straight year I celebrated Chinese New Year with a super fun dinner in Chinatown. Last year, we resolved that we were going to try the non-Western menu this year. That menu included abalone and shark fin soup, among other delicious dishes. While we all thought that (a) shark fin soup was illegal and (b) we would receive imitation shark fin, we were wrong on both counts. I didn't love the soup -- too strongly fishy for me -- but fun to try. Even though I knew that the dinner was a marathon and not a sprint, trying to pace myself, I still was so full that I couldn't really eat a couple of the last courses. But, what I did eat was a nice spicy variety.

Everyone loves this dinner so much that people make dietary exception. Two people have instituted Chinese new year exceptions that allow them to eat meat and try everything served. It's a great combination of people, food, fun and a real character of a server.

One tangentially related lesson we learned: no cabs in Chinatown. Not a problem though: the red line took us home. Fitting given the importance of red in Chinese culture.

Snow Day!

2011-02-03T11:43:00.004-06:00

Yesterday was my first official snow day since high school. I suspect it might be my last, at least as long as I live in Chicago.

Chicago likes to think it is tough. (And, don't get me wrong, Chicago weather is tough. The snow and the cold are like Chicago voting: they come early and often. Winter is a long-lasting season. No one moves here for the weather. People just are a little hardened to winter. It takes a lot for us to freak out.) So far this winter, the East Coast has been battered by snow storms. I think Chicago has some snobbery when reading about those storms -- as in, it's just snow, people. We'll show you how it is done.

Until we got the third largest storm in Chicago history. The official tally was 20.2 inches of snow at O'Hare. M and I left work early on Tuesday. In the 15 minutes it took to get home, the roads went from "not bad" to "blizzard." They shut down Lakeshore Drive. Some poor people were stuck on it for nearly 15 hours. They say that the cost for storm cleanup is going to be $100 million.

While it was only 3:30 in the afternoon, we decided that there was no time to waste in watching movies and having some blizzard cocktails. Around 7, we considered moseying about four blocks to get some dinner. Then, we decided that we had nothing to prove and that the mature and smart decision was to stay in.

Good thing we did. About the time we would be returning home, this happened:

About 9:00 pm, we got the official word that the office would be closed on Wednesday. A perfect snowday ensued. I slept in. Cleaned my place and did laundry. Once the snow was mostly stopped around noon, M and I took a walk in the neighborhood. The drifts were high and the streets mostly unplowed and undriven. There were the occasional magical heated sidewalks that looked like nothing happened but generally, it was quite a scene.

Thankfully, our local bar was open and serving food. We stopped at CVS on our way home to get some snacks in preparation for a planned afternoon on the couch. We also stopped to visit our friends, and neighbors, L and A. By the time we actually headed home, there was already significant improvement in the streets.

While we had a brief hope for Snow Day, the Sequel, when Chicago Public Schools closed for the second straight day (virtually unheard of -- the last time there was a snow day before this was 1999), the improvement in the roads indicated there was a slim-to-no potential. So, we made the most of the remainder of our snow day: did some pro bono work (reading some extremely graphic love letters written to our client), watched A LOT of television, ate some sugary treats, and made dinner and dessert (who knew that a "just add water" brownie that only needs 45 seconds in the microwave could be good? Not me. Of course, the copious amount of ice cream we covered it in might have had something to do with that).

The only real negative to our 1.5 days off due to snow is that it felt like Sunday night again last night.

Fingers Crossed.

2011-01-04T08:36:00.002-06:00

So, as I've said repeatedly, if my horoscope ever indicated that I should buy a lottery ticket, I would do it immediately. Well, today happens to be lottery ticket day anyway BUT my horoscope is this:

AQUARIUS (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): Many of you are going to benefit from a serious chunk of change suddenly coming your way. This might already have happened, or it might happen right now or might happen almost immediately. Whatever it is — it’s good. It could be cash or gifts or both. Ka-ching!

In my optimistic view, that clearly dictates and results in a winning lottery ticket. Fingers crossed, seeing as how the MegaMillions currently has a $330 million jackpot.

2011.

2011-01-03T10:36:00.004-06:00

Three days in and so far so good.

I eased out of 2010, working half days, working out, and taking naps. New Year's Eve was pretty low-key considering that I did go out. M's parents were in town to celebrate with her. I tagged along (tough to keep up with that long-legged family when you're trying to walk and of the short-legged variety) to Butch McGuire's. Given that its on Division, I expected it to be kind of insane. We got there punctually, snagged the ideal table, and generally enjoyed ourselves as the place slowly filled up. Thankfully, it never reached insane levels. We stayed for the countdown and by 12:05, we were walking back toward home.

I eased into 2011. Day 1 was as low-key as Day 365 of 2010. I watched the Rose parade, watched some football, tried to get my mitts fixed (but alas, the nail place had closed early), worked out and met H and T for a drink. Between the workout, doing the tri-bath-lon (sauna, steam, shower), and having a couple drinks, I was in the Trump for nearly six hours that day! Time flew -- there are definitely worse places to spend six hours.

Today is the first official work day of 2011. One of the tough things about a new year when you bill your time is starting at 0. You have a sympathy for Sisyphus this time of year. Back when I was a baby lawyer, someone told me that they always tried to work on New Year's day. At the time, I thought that was odd but I've since adopted it. I always do something -- even if it is just a tiny bit so that I start the official beginning of the work year in the black. I'm currently +3.3 and the day is nice and quiet.

Easing into 2011 and I can't complain.

Key West.

2010-12-26T19:25:00.002-06:00

For the first time ever, my family took a trip at Christmas this year. A holiday trip was something we had talked about doing for awhile but this year we finally booked it. And, it was a good thing -- it gave my mom a goal and something to look forward to as part of her recovery from the surgeries this fall. It was also a much needed chance to rest for my dad and the first vacation my brother would take for ten years. So, my grandmother, parents, brother and his partner, and twenty year old cousin met in Miami and headed to Key West. None of us had ever been. I think it was fair to say that most people were a little anxious about how this would work out.

And, it worked out well!

Key West is a nice island. Not too touristy except down by one end, nice weather (although in a perfect world, it would have been maybe 10 degrees warmer), and good food. Some people went to visit Truman's Little White House and Hemingway's house. Some people went deep sea fishing. Some went to the beach. Some went on a ghost tour. And, on Christmas Eve, we had a family dinner complete with holiday poppers and a family picture around a Christmas tree.

Routine.

2010-12-16T10:08:00.002-06:00

I am my father's daughter to a certain extent. He is a man of routine. If he cannot go through his morning routine, his entire day is entirely thrown. He never quite gets it together all day long. AND, his routine is LOOOOOOOOONG. The man gets up three hours before he needs to be anywhere.

Last night, I was out celebrating M's elevation to partner until 1:30 a.m. A normal person would sleep in a bit. But, I got up at 5:45 and went to the gym because that's my routine. I don't even know how to get ready at home any more. There is no coffee made and waiting for me at home. There are no jars of lotion and aloe. My shower is tiny in comparison. I went and half-assed a workout because I wanted to get ready at the gym.

I like to think that I'm not as bad as my dad. At least I can take comfort that I am MUCH quicker than him. Even including the hour workout and travel time, I come in around 2 hours.

Second Annual.

2010-12-14T09:19:00.002-06:00

Last night was our Second Annual Trump Girl Holiday Dinner. Yes, all capitalized. Lends the proper degree of importance to the event. There are six of us that we consider the Trump Girls. Beginning in December, the schedules get so busy with holiday stuff, family, and travel that its quite possible that we won't all be able to get together again until March. So, starting last year we began having a holiday dinner -- Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, enjoy MLKJ day, etc. until we manage to get together again.

This year, it took two attempts to find a date between Thanksgiving and Christmas that would work for everyone. Last night was the ONLY date. I was hoping all day that no one would have to cancel because there just wasn't a rain date possible. Thankfully, everyone made it. I guess it helped that it was a Monday.

As previously mentioned, when H and I went to the Thanksgiving parade, we met the loveliest people, one of whom is a manager at RL. As I had never been, I hadn't even considered it before but that gave us the dinner location. And, it was fantastic! The restaurant was subtly festive. We dialed it up a bit with gift bags from O and holiday poppers for everyone. We talked so much to start that it took a long time for us to be able to place an order for anything but drinks. But once we did order, the food was SO good. And, our new friend from the parade sent us a plate of desserts. While we were all stuffed, we somehow managed to eat them all. I am still full as I write this, some twelve hours and a workout later.

A very happy holiday dinner was had. We even toasted the Donald for bringing us all together.

Let It Snow!

2010-12-13T09:53:00.002-06:00

Yesterday was the first major storm of the year and probably the biggest storm we've had in a couple years. M and I were sitting on the couch, having some coffee, eating a snack and watching some incredibly bad tv when we got a text from O, asking if we were coming to kickboxing. I generally don't workout on Sundays so it was easy to glance out the window, see the snow going sideways and hear the wind howling, to say nope. But, O mentioned that she was going shopping at 900 North. At that point, M took over the texting and agreed that we would meet her there. Seemed crazy to me, but once she suggested breaking up the walk with a snack, mimosa and train-car-viewing I was in.

And, once properly bundled up, it was really a fun afternoon. Very few people out and those who were, were in a good mood about it. If you're going to do it, you might as well do it right.

That said, I wouldn't mind if that was our only big storm of the season. Or, if today's high of 12 was the coldest and only seriously cold day of the season either.