The Bronchy.

My sickness was diagnosed as bronchitis. I had forgotten just how much the bronchy hurts. . . or how long it takes to recover. Thanks to a z-pack, I was improved by the time I boarded my flight to Colorado on Tuesday. Now, a full week later, I've hit a health plateau. I'm much improved but my cough remains my constant companion. I re-filled the z-pack and am hoping for a return to 100% soon. I have to hit the ground running when I return to Chicago with two major deadlines on December 9th and the Jingle Bell run this Saturday. I just hope Chicago's relatively mild winter so far continues through the run on Saturday morning. A 5K in the teens is not my idea of holiday cheer.

Drama Drag.

Friday night was the last Friday of the month. And, at a certain club in Denver, that means its Drama Drag night. Drama Drag is hosted by the loca, Nina Flowers. Nina was the runner-up on RuPaul's Drag Race, the search for America's Next Drag Superstar. At my brother's suggestion, I watched all of the episodes thanks to the magic of the internets and Nina was my favorite. Actually, Nina Flowers scares me but her alter-ego Jorge was a sweetheart.
As it turns out, my brother is friends with Nina/Jorge because his boyfriend does drag too. Joel's drag name was originally Juicy Mai Tai (my belief was he should have called himself Flaming Dr. Pepper and got it over with if he wanted to go with drink names). He has since switched his drag name a couple of times. Its currently Angelina SX. Both Joel and our other Thanksgiving guest, Walter/Kiera, were performing on Friday at 11:30 pm.

So, Friday evening, my mom, cousin and I headed down to Denver. My brother's best friend from high school and his wife were meeting us there. They got lost as they went to a club by the same name. They realized they were in the wrong place when everything was too straight. We were holding down a good spot on the dance floor near the stage. But, as it got closer to show time, we got pushed around a bit and out of our spot to a slightly less advantageous spot. I did not pack anything for going to a club, but my reasoning for that was born out -- not a single person there was interested in me. I was surrounded by sweaty, occasionally half-naked men who could not be less-interested in me so my jeans and t-shirt were perfectly appropriate.

The show itself was great. Unfortunately, my camera was less-so as I only had my blackberry camera for most of the show. I'm hoping to get better pictures emailed to me. Nina can definitely work a crowd. Both of my Thanksgiving guests did a great job. They also are both better at makeup and hair than I am. Oh well.

Thankful.

Thanksgiving was probably the nicest overall holiday with my family in years-- and I don't even particularly like Thanksgiving!

As usual, my brother was late, unless his definition of mid-morning actually means 11:15. However, we are used to his late ways so it gave us time to make a gratin and have a morning cocktail before his arrival. And, as usual, he made an entrance. This time, accompanying him was his boyfriend, a friend who is staying with them for awhile after a breakup, and their combined total of three dogs.

Our brunch of mimosas, gratin, grapefruit and kringle (all home-made) induced four food comas. Every male in the house was knocked out for the next two-to-four hours. In the meantime, my mom and I cooked up a storm. Despite what some people think, I'm actually quite a decent cook and a rather wonderful sous chef as I love to dice and chop and always clean up as I go. By the time everyone woke up, our dinner was essentially done. And, dinner was amazing. My mom has always been a good cook but in the 12 years since I left for college, she has morphed into a great cook who puts out restaurant-quality food. [N.B. Gym and I are going to have to have a friend-aissance upon my return. Mom has been feeding me so well.] After gorging themselves and stocking up with leftovers, my brother, boyfriend and friend left. Not one argument or snide comment was made by me for once -- my tongue had bite marks but apparently, everyone but my tongue appreciated my discretion.

In short, I'm thankful for: a great holiday with my family; delicious food cooked by mom; persuading my mom that she needs to take next semester off to recover her health; getting to hang out with my dad for five days straight; and, my friends who I miss and am looking forward to sipping prosecco with upon my return.

Rookie Mistakes.

I am in Colorado with my parents for Thanksgiving for the first time
in some years. And, I've been looking forward to getting here for
awhile as I haven't been back since January and a lot has changed
around here -- redone basement, cousin living with them, etc. So, I
wasn't going to let bronchitis stop me. Don't look at me like that. I
am on my third dose of the z-pac and no longer contagious even if
people look at you like you're Typhoid Mary if you cough in public
these days. And don't worry, there is no way I will be cooking for
people unlike T.M.

I got to the airport with intentionally extra time knowing that its a
busy travel week filled with people who never travel. I head to the
priority security line that is usually faster because its filled with
people who have status on the airline for traveling frequently. Rookie
mistake number one. Usually is the operative word. Except around
holidays when those premier executives share their status and bring
little Suzy, little Billy, Uncle Fred and Grandma with them, and they
never have travelled before.

I'm usually smug in my security screening efficiency. This time I had
a bit of a question mark because I was bringing an injection with me
for the first time. And, I sure did get a bag check. But not for the
injection. No, no. For the cleanser I was bringing back for my mom.
Totally forgot about it and definitely more than 3 ounces.
Consficated. Rookie mistake. I'm ashamed of me.

As a bonus to consficating $35 worth of cleanser, I got to explain the
tranny Spice Girl boots. I'm donating them to a drag queen in need.

--
Sent from my mobile device

Sunday not-Funday

I pulled myself together and went to work this morning for a meeting with two partners about an ongoing, massive project. "Pulled [] together" is in a loose definition of the phrase as I was ponytailed, wearing jeans and my dad's high school t-shirt which has that Abercrombie-"distressed" look to it. They don't make shirts like this any more. It is actual two separate layers of super-soft cotton sewn together. I stole it from my dad some years ago and its my equivalent of comfort food in t-shirts. Its the best.

The meeting was with one senior partner who was leaving for vacation in Spain this afternoon and wanted to give us (me) my marching orders for the ten days while he is gone. It was the other partner's birthday today -- quite a present to start the day by meeting with the senior partner and sniffing, coughing me. Not really ideal for me to attend but the option not to attend was non-existent. The outcome of the meeting was for me to turn around a complete interview outline and nutshell of key questions as well as re-write an 180-page document in the next 10 days. On the plus side, this won't interfere with me going to Colorado this week as planned. On the minus side, it likely means that I will have to do a lot more work in Colorado than I want.

After the meeting, I went to Walgreens armed with a "basics of illness" list from my dad. As a pharmacist, he was dismayed at the woeful state of my home supplies (read: lots of advil, not so much anything else). I purchased his list, including the cough medicine and sudafed necessary for my current illness, and stocked up on some juice. I'm now on the couch, working and napping intermittently. Sunday Funday its not.

:(

All week, a cold was being ridiculously forward in its flirtations. I tried to reject the cold. I skipped the gym, I went to bed early, I did everything. Hell, I was even at the doctor for my yearly physical. The doctor told me that it was too bad I was sick because she couldn't give me the piggy vaccine. But otherwise, I was just not-well. Yesterday, I woke up feeling better but took a turn from not-well to sick during the afternoon.

Now, I could ask my friends to drop off some cough medicine or juice (unsurprisingly, my apartment is very poorly equipped for illness) but I really just want those things to magically appear and just be left to my wallowing. I'm actually aching from inactivity today. I have done nothing but watch football, cough, watch two movies, nap, cough, and sneeze. Not ideal but I've had enough of being sick so I've decided that I will be 100% tomorrow. Just in time for a 10:00 am work meeting on a Sunday.

I think my health's return would be guaranteed if my mom were here to make me a grilled cheese and stroke my hair. Something magical about mom's medicine.

Over the river and through the woods.

I went to Wisco this weekend to visit my grandmother. She is a not-old-74 (particularly not-old considering that I'm 30), who has a wide variety of cultural commitments that fill up her days. She is always going to the symphony, the ballet, the theater, to lecture series or book groups. She fits more culture into a month than I have into the past ten years combined. Although, to be fair to myself, I have a job.

Anyway, grandma and I were planning on going to see a dance performance by a troupe called Luna Negra, from Chicago. I suspect that grandma was not particularly interested in their style of dance, a folk Cuban dancing judging by the description, and my presence gave her an excuse not to go. Instead, we went to get a delicious hamburger and custard for dessert. I almost never eat hamburgers but I love them. Its a quasi-tradition that we go out for a burger when I'm in Wisco.

And, custard is definitely a tradition. Hell, custard might even be a cult in Wisco. There are various camps among those in the Milwaukee area as to whether they prefer Gilles' or Kopps or one other custard stand I can never remember. Note: proper pronunciation is not Gill-ies but Gill-es', named after the Gilles family. I am on the losing side of proper pronunciation but wanted to note it for the record. My family are Gilles' loyalists, as my mom and her siblings went to school with GIlles kids and my grandfather patronized it essentially from its establishment. Bud Selig is probably the most famous Gilles' customer. Anyway, a trip to Wisco is not complete for me without a junior turtle sundae at Gilles'. Its incredibly bad for you but oh-so-delicious.

As is typical, the trip to Wisco was a quiet one. Sat around, watched football, and chatted with grandma when I wasn't ingesting more calories in a meal than a normal week. And a bonus: Wisco is a powerball state so I diversified my lottery playing by buying a ticket while I was up there. Can't put all your eggs in one lottery basket.

pad see-EWWW!

Friday evening was happy hour at Theory.  Missy came for a drink but it was really me, Heather and Todd.  We had a great time and time just flew by.  At 10:45 pm, we ran across the street to put in a to-go order from VTK.  Love me some thai foodies.  Todd gave me my order (pad thai, not pad see-ew but its not as funny) and I placed it in my bag, nicely balanced.  Or so I thought. 

 

Of course, it wasn't balanced.  At least not well enough to be lugged around and jostled while getting into a cab.  So it leaked.  Into my bag.  While I love thai food, I do not love the smell of old thai food. And, now, everything that was in my bag, including my bag, laptop, papers, etc. 

 

I love my bag but I do not love its aroma right now.  My first attempt was just febreeze.  Did not do it.  Grandma suggested baking soda.  That helped.  My mom suggested kitty litter.  I'm getting some on my way home today.  I will try it all to rescue this guy from becoming a pad thai tragedy.

Spicing It Up.

Belated so I will cut to the punch line: my Ginger boots are being donated to a drag queen in need and Laura, who was kind enough to host our pre-party, is STILL finding little curly black hairs from Missy's wig around her apartment. Both funny, both hard to explain.

For me, the best part of the night was the pre-party, where we finished our transformation into the Spice Girls. Missy's afro wig for Scary Spice had too much volume so I gave it a hair cut -- hence the curly black hairs everywhere. At the capable and expert hands of the Schwartz sisters, my hair magically had volume. Mind you it took a serious deep conditioning to get my hair back to normal but it was noteworthy volume. Heather and Todd were such a good Posh and Becks that I couldn't believe that they hadn't done it before. The Schwartzes were perfect as Sporty and Baby.

From there, we went to a house party and then the Galaween at the Chicago Cultural Center. Both were a fun time, but I have to admit that they were less fun for me than the pre-party. It was just so good to see my friends in the same place for the first time since early September. However, I will never ever wear those boots again. Upon hearing that -- and their size -- my brother requested that rather than get rid of them, I bring them to CO at Thanksgiving to donate to a drag queen in need of platform, red, lace-up boots. And who am I to deny a drag queen?

Moral: funny night, spicing it up.

Yawn.

I keep intending to write about my Spice Girls Halloween but I've been distracted by my actual job this week. Over the last three days, I've billed 45 hours. I'm not a girl cut out for repeatedly pulling doubles. I need my sleep. Hopefully, I will have a lazy weekend where I will finally get to post my picture of my Ginger boots. I fear that hope might not come to fruition but my fingers are crossed.