Dad Tasks.

My parents were in town for the past few days. My mom is always easy to make happy when she visits. All she needs is a few reservations at interesting new restaurants. And, the occasional shopping trip, pedicure or theater ticket. My mom is a city mouse who lives in what I uncharitably like to describe as a cowtown.

My dad, on the other hand, is a country mouse. He would never want to live in Chicago. For one thing, he would have a really hard time finding parking for his truck. (He drives a gigantic F350 diesel. He wanted a dually -- the double back wheel version of a truck -- but my mom put her foot down as she didn't see what my dad, a pharmacist by training, would need to haul to justify that kind of truck.) He just doesn't like the traffic and the amount of people so close to each other. His ideal home has double digit acres, not double digit floors.

But, this trip was easy to keep dad occupied. I just put him to work. While I can handle the basics, I just had a lot of dad-tasks related to my new place. I needed him to teach me how to install propane in my grill (I was afraid I'd mess it up and blow myself up). I needed him to put a wire on the back of a mirror and help me hang it. He made up his own tasks of basic maintanence that I didn't even know needed to be done. He taught me about the magic of WD-40. Basically, he did a lot of good dad-tasks. Thankfully, this stuff is easy for him and he likes doing it. And, my dad likes my new place much better than the old one. He found my new neighborhood and treehouse of a condo to be a nice little respite from the noise of the city.

Rest assured, my Father's Day present to him was not giving him a bunch of work to do. I did get him actual gift too.

Branching Out.

At the beginning of this month, a bunch of copies of CS (a Modern Luxury publication that I think stands for Chicago Social but I'm not positive) were delivered to the lobby of my building. At my old place, I got a lot of cleaning service post cards and the occasional RedEye. Apparently, in the Gold Coast, you get social magazines.


The June issue of CS included a review of new bars. If its not obvious, I'm a creature of habit. At most restaurants that I go to, I don't really need to look at a menu because I have a go-to and don't bother branching out. Unsurprisingly, that means I usually go to the same places and don't often deviate(except when moved by an outside force, e.g. my mom coming to town). Despite my apparent love of Newton's First Law of Motion, I do like going new places and even more so, like reading about new places.

CS recommended Hotel Palomar's Sable. Been there and it is definitely good. I still miss the nice little green space that formerly occupied the hotel's footprint, though.

CS recommends Old Town Social. OTS is on my old block. I certainly like the place but dislike standing in lines so rarely went. Nonetheless, I agree with the recommendation.

CS informed me that the people behind Bull and Bear are putting a bar into what used to be RedFish. Looking forward to that.

CS told me that Epic's roof is delightful, as expected. CS also apprised me that a new restaurant/lounge with an Italian focus will be moving in across the street from Epic. Super news.

And, CS told me that a former friend, English, has undergone some rehab. A few years ago, I really enjoyed English. I even had my birthday there (28 or 29, can't remember). Yelp billed English as the ruiner of birthdays. English itself didn't accomplish that. A jerky boy and breaking my key in my front door managed it, although technically on the day after my birthday. But I digress. Its been awhile -- maybe as much as two years -- since I've been to English but I kind of want to go back. English hired Rahdika Desai, of Top Chef fame, to redesign their menu and be the chef. I attended an event last summer (Chefs and the City) in which she participated with some delicious samples. I liked English's food before but I bet it is awesome now.

Short story long, thanks to CS, I might branch out a bit this summer.

Sunday Dinner.

I know that Sunday dinner is a traditional thing for a lot of families. It wasn't really a big deal for my family growing up because we were a family that tried to eat dinner together every night.

Now, as adults, it seems that my family has adopted a Sunday dinner of sorts. Every two weeks or so, my brother and parents get together for Sunday night dinner. My brother, his partner and their dogs come up to my parents' house after working, arriving about 4. He tends to fall asleep immediately while the dogs run around like crazy. My mom often pulls out most (not all) the stops for the meal, especially for dessert. It sounds like a good time. If I lived near them, I'd happily join them.


As I live some 1,500 or so miles away, M and I have started our own little Sunday dinner. We decided last week that tonight's dinner would be breakfast for dinner. We made a frittata, sweet potato hash, blueberry muffins and had bellinis as our drink. Super delicious and mostly healthy AND almost entirely made from scratch. I actually like cooking when I'm not doing it just for myself. That seems like such a waste of time and energy to me. But tonight, we even had friends stop by for a plate. Sunday night is a really relaxing way to end the weekend.

America's Got Talent!

Last night at Glamorama's kickoff party, Naturally7 (www.naturallyseven.com)performed. I had never heard of them before this party but they are incredible. (Side note: had I bothered to google them, I would have found their official website, a wiki entry, etc.). Incredibly talented and incredible performers.

They are seven guys who perform what they call "vocal play." That means not only do they sing a capella, they make all sounds in the song using only their vocal chords. That translates to air drums, air bass, even air flute. It cracked me a up bit at first -- it takes a real performer to have swagger while rocking with the air flute -- but they are such great performers that I forgot that it was funny pretty quickly.

I've never watched America's Got Talent but nonetheless, I totally think these guys should go on it and win. They apparently have their fourth CD out but they are so good at what they do that you would never know, just by listening, that their vocal chords were responsible for everything you hear. You really need to see it to believe it.

Point of Clarification.

As should be obvious, I love my bubbles. Prosecco, rose, champagne, love them all.

However, bubbles are not the only thing my friends and I drink. Non-bubbly wine is also totally acceptable. I don't know a lot about wine but prefer reds to white. Malbec, pinot, merlot, cab, shiraz -- all good in my book.

There are certain occassions where a beer is really the only thing that will work. For example, a cold beer at a ballgame is really the only thing that fits. (Digression: its also the only setting where I eat a hot dog because they taste better there and by better, I mean, damn, that is delicious.)

I still like my vodky soda. Particularly, a raspberry vodka or three olives grape. Tastes just like grape soda. All with extra lime -- its only prudent, one doesn't want scurvy.

And, more than one shot is still a quick ticket to time travel.

New Leaf?

The new place may have resulted in a new leaf.

As I mentioned, moving to a new place changed my sleep habits. Now, I have both the knees and bedtime of an 80 year old woman. I like sleeping in so I will be sad if I have premanently lost that ability but I'm confident its not completely lost.

More dramatic of a change is that I actually make the occasional, simple dinner. Actually, that's an exaggeration in two ways. First, its a collaborative effort. Melissa and I have been dividing the labor. Second, our dinners have so far been a salad and some grilled proteins. I generally take the grilling responsibilities and I have to admit that I have a lot to learn and significant room for improvement. Melissa's salads have been generally awesome. The southwest salad and the strawberry and goat cheese salad have been my two favorites.

For the first time, today, I went to the grocery store with a cookbook in hand to get ingredients. Tomorrow's dinner will be a feast, at least for us. Marianade from hand, lots of veggies, angel food cake for dessert. At the grocer, I was suckered into buying a bottle of pinot noir by name alone: Fat Bastard, a "surprisingly full-bodied wine."

On another new leaf note, I went to the hardware store today to buy a paintbrush and a drop cloth. I am actually re-painting a lamp. Its super simple and WAY cheaper than paying someone, especially as I have a closet full of paint. I primed the lamp this afternoon and hope to have it painted tomorrow. Not a huge project but more domestic than I've been in maybe ever.

Martha Stewart I'm not but maybe a baby step or two is being taken towards domestic skills.

Super Seasonal Saturdays.

I love love love Saturday mornings during farmers' market season. And, luckily, farmers' market season started a few weeks ago and runs through October.

My new seasonal Saturday involves getting up and going to the farmers' market early to get some flowers. The market opens at 7:00 am. Apparently, when I moved into a building filled mostly with older people, I adopted an older person's sleeping schedule. I can't seem to sleep in anymore, including Saturday mornings. Which, as far as the market goes, is a good thing because the flowers get picked over rather quickly.

After finding flowers, its time for The Double at the gym. (It could be The Triple but I just don't think I could do three class and/or three and a half hours in a row of exercise without a snack break.) The Double is a strength and conditioning class followed by spin. Quick shower and out.

Then, its back to the farmers' market. This time, to walk the market and see if there is anything I need. So far, I've needed spinach dip. But that's just a pretense. I really go back to the farmers' market for Butch McGuire's farmers' market $5 breakfast: two eggs, some form of bread, and some meat. I like to take my english muffin with some eggs over hard and canadian bacon. The McGuire McMuffin is how I like to think of it. Super delicious. Especially followed with the jumbo mimosas. Just so refreshing. Two out of the past three weeks, the bartenders have awarded free shots. Not coincidentally, two out of the past three weeks, I've left with a strong buzz.

I just love Saturday mornings.

June, Already.

I cannot believe its already June 1. It may not be officially summer yet but we appear to have fast forwarded to August here in Chicago. I've always thought that Spring is a Tuesday in April here but this year, it's particularly true. We're already having a warmer summer than all of last year combined in my opinion. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. At least, not yet.

June 1st marked my first mortgage payment. One down, three hundred and fifty-nine to go. And yet, my place is not complete. I have about 90% of my furniture, a figure that I consider a win. However, I still do not have two countertops, any light fixtures or window treatments. I can and do live without them but they definitely are a hinderance to really feeling like I'm home. Much less of a hinderance than the entire first week where one of my toilets resided in my dining room. My mom liked to call that an avant gard statement on the current state of dinig at home. She also pointed out that every party needs a pooper. Funny and all but I'm happy to have two fully functional bathrooms with everything back where it belongs.

I hope by the time fall rolls in, I will have a completed place that will be my new home sweet home. Good thing that there are so many fun summer-in-Chicago activities to distract me until its done.

Planning.

I've been to a few galas in my time. Not a lot -- work prom, the Arthritis Foundation's event, and a few others -- but a few. For the past few years, faux-pas-be-damned, I've worn the same dress to all of them. I strongly believe that if you're going to spend any significant amount of money on anything but particularly clothes, you need to use it and get your money's worth. I almost always mentally amortize a significant purchase before committing to it. At this point, my dress is a sub-$100 dress, which I would definitely pay without even a second thought for it.

But I digress.

My point of the preceding paragraphs is that I've been to enough of these events that I'm a pretty good planning committee member. This year, after getting a touch burned out with my usual philanthropic endeavor, I agreed to help Heather plan the Cystic Fibrosis Breath of Life Gala.

I attended my first planning meeting tonight. And, sadly, I could not contain myself. When they suggested a theme, e.g. Roaring 20's costume party, I reflexively, and loudly, said no. You just can't get people to pay a $300 ticket for a theme party. When they suggested a cash bar after a certain hour, my immediate response was "absolutely not." Once those ideas were out of the way, we came up with a lot of great ideas for fundraising and ways to make the gala an actually fun event. Even without free drinks.

Unrelated: I'm proud of myself and relieved -- I just KNEW I had something other than my house to talk about!

Packing.

I think I've been packing for at least two months now. I enjoyed the initial purge but now that I'm packing, I'm tempted to just pitch it all and have some one deliver all new stuff. Of course, since all my money is earmarked for my house now, that's just wishful thinking.

So, I continue to pack. And, fun -- I get to unpack on Friday!

Good as Gold.

My new neighborhood is the Gold Coast. I am entirely biased but I think my new street is likely the prettiest in the whole city. My street is nicely treed, filled with huge historic mansions, flowers everywhere, not three blocks from the lake. It seems like a very safe and idyllic place in which I look forward to living.

For the first time, I officially joined a neighborhood association. Last night was the Gold Coast Neighbors Association's annual Spring Fling ("As Good as Gold" was the theme) held at the Chicago Racquet Club. I attended along with my friends and neighbors, Melissa, Laura and Andrea. The venue was beautiful, the food tasty, the drinks flowing, and the crowd . . . interesting. We brought the median age, and no doubt income, down significantly. For the most part, everyone we met was extremely nice and outgoing. My favorite part was the live auction, although I'm quite disappointed that I did not win the mega-raffle's scooter.

While the neighborhood is very safe, the buildings like to remind their residents that there can be crime in the Gold Coast and to stay alert. The Gold Coast Neighbors Association takes its crime prevention seriously. Melissa had left her credit card on the raffle table when she bought a ticket. Not 45 minutes later, she realized her mistake and went back to get it. They had already called the company to cancel it. It was proactive, efficient, impressive and awful at once. I'm not sure why they didn't try to find her first -- either by making an announcement or at her address, as they definitely know where she lives -- but they surely avoided any potential credit card fraud.

Top Three.

Part of this is my own fault due to personality, but the construction and design process are killing me. I scheduled my move for May 21 after repeated assurance that my place would be done by mid-May. While mid-May translates to May 15 to me, I decided to allow for some slippage in the schedule and added a week. Despite this clear deadline, it seems like EVERYTHING is taking longer and no one is motivated.

Top Three Frustrations:

1. Tile. Unbeknownst to me -- but well-known to the rest of the world, particularly the design world -- tile generally has anywhere between a three and six week wait time between order and delivery. From the outset, re-tiling my bathroom was part of my design plans. Outset = March 24 or not quite eight weeks from my scheduled move. And yet, the designer didn't turn to selecting tile until last weekend. Every sample was at least a four week wait. I thought I was clear that speed was my most important factor in selecting tile at this point because I don't want to live through construction. And yet, as of yesterday when demo began on my bathroom -- all tile now removed and problems uncovered -- I STILL don't have tile chosen and was getting questions as to whether I wanted to order stuff that would take six weeks. Who woulda thunk it, but apparently I'm being too nice about this.



2. Unforeseen problems. First, as demo began on my kitchen on Monday, the contractor realized that part of the wall I planned to remove entirely contained a concrete structural support column. Well, hell. While the revised plan is still an improvement over what was there, its not nearly as good and my planned island might end up looking silly. Hopefully, not but I have some concerns. Second, as demo began on my bathroom, they realized that the valves for both my tub and sink were leaking. Things that were not uncovered during the inspection. Thankfully, plumbing is the responsibility of the condo association. My relatively high monthly assessment is not for naught.



3. General lack of speed. I do not understand why, when I select something, it takes upwards of a week for the items to actually be ordered. Clearly, people who do not have to live without lighting fixtures, or furniture, or countertops are not nearly as motivated as those of us who do. And, my failure of comprehension is furthered by the fact that I -- not to be immodest -- exceed at getting things done. I can conceirge things and orchestrate with the best of them. At this point, I'm pretty sure that my designer and her staff hate me because I am emailing them daily with reminders, prompts and questions.

Despite these frustrations, I already love the work product, even if the process isn't too my liking. And, hopefully, come sometime in June, my home will be beautiful and I will be super happy with my decisions.

Appropriate.

As I mentioned, as of Monday afternoon, I'm a member of the 30-Year Club, as my mom calls it.

On Tuesday, I returned to work to find that one of the women that I work out with probably five times per week had left a closing gift for me at the office. While we aren't friends, if you spend five mornings a week for well over a year getting ready with someone, you end up knowing a lot about them. Or, she was just a lucky guesser. Her gift: a bottle of Veuve. Fitting.

This morning, I received a delivery from my parents. It came in a box labeled live plant. As I have something of a black thumb, I was a little confused. But, once I opened the box, I realized just how appropriate and funny it was. My parents closing gift to me was a Money Tree. They are supposed to be Feng Shui-y and bring good luck. To me, it just represents how I feel about this whole process. It really seems like everyone involved seems to assume that money does grow on trees. If only money really did grow on trees . . .

Home-Owning.

After finding a workaround on the mortgage issue, I was set to close yesterday at 1:00 p.m. I was told that it would take about an hour so I just worked all morning until it was time. Everyone was on time and ready to go, except for one essential person: the closer. She was well over an hour and a half late and upon arrival, did not apologize. Instead, she adopted a surly, and worse, slow attitude. After some serious prompting, and a $300 reduction in my fees for her tardiness, I was finally a homeowner around 6:00 p.m.

Sadly, my excitement for being a homeowner was seriously dampened by two things. First and most importantly, my overwhelming hunger. Once my blood sugar drops, I become a beast and it takes awhile for me to recover, mood-wise. My super nice agent picked up some food for us on our way to my new home. We met up with Melissa who was there unpacking as she moved into her new place that day. We ate the desperately needed food and toasted with some well-planned prosecco. Sadly, that brings me to the second thing. Melissa's places is similar to mine but currently soooooooooooooo beautiful and mine just isn't. I have high hopes but I want my place to be pretty without the wait. Patience is really not one of my virtues.

But, my place is on its way to pretty. I met the contractor who will be removing the ugly popcorn ceiling, painting and putting up crown moulding this morning. Of course, that was not without a hiccup. My keys worked perfectly well last night but this morning, they refused to open the door for me, Melissa, or the building engineer. I called a locksmith but before he got there (well over an hour late, by which time I was at work), my contractor was able to fix it.

Home ownership is fun.

Event-Full.

Much like robins and the bucket-boys, the re-appearance of a wide variety of events are a sure sign of the imminent return of warmth and fun. Thanks to my friends, my social calendar has filled itself in rather impressively in the past couple days.

On Tuesday, I attended a screening of the new Jennifer Lopez movie. If you have ever wondered about the lack of constants in life, you've never seen a Jennifer Lopez movie. They are generally not good and cliche-filled but yet, not an unpleasant way to pass time, particularily when you have friends around who share your view of her films. This one was particularly full of expected moments so I was glad to have attended a cocktail reception in advance.

Last night was the grand opening of a new Mercedez Benz dealership, not far from my house. I was surprised by this one as I was under the impression that the dealership had been open for months. The opening was sponsored by one of the local magazines and included appetizers from good restaurants, drinks, a fashion show and after-party. We got there on the later side to realize that they were herding everyone to the third floor for the fasion show by closing the bars. The only open bar was upstairs and outside, which was unfortunate as it was quite chilly. Worse the one bar only had one bartender which made for a long wait. We did the only thing that made sense -- double fisted our bubbles. The funniest part of the night for me was while waiting for the valet, seeing all these fancy cars arrive -- Mercedez, Range Rover, BMW, Lexus -- and then my super dirty Toyota roll up. it served to motivate me to want to wash it more than replace it.

These events are always interesting and I'm so glad that they have returned. Now, if only the warm weather they harold would hurry up and arrive.

Whew.

After a week of tension regarding the mortgage, I learned late afternoon yesterday that I will close on my first home on Monday at 1:00 p.m. It was such an incredible relief to get that scheduled. I knew I was anxious about it but I didn't realize just how anxious until it was set.

Of course, the hiccups in the process were not quite done. Because my original closing date was today, the seller scheduled the power to be shut off as of today. Now, its much more likely that it merely was going to be transferred out of her name, but I decided to do the walk-through last night. File that under better-safe-than-sorry, especially after Melissa was not able to do a walk-through on her place until five days after closing because the sellers had stopped the power and it took that long for ComEd to turn it back on. Everything seems fine, even if I had no idea how to use the stove or microwave. File that under fancier-than-me.

Now, we are getting closer to the "fun" part of the process. I'm expecting to receive renovation plans for my kitchen today and have already received an estimate to re-do my master bathroom. Once that work is done, it will be the fun of picking paint and furnishings. Bring on the fun already!

Week One.

I just completed week one of re-making my morning workout habit. Overall, it wasn't even that difficult. Of course, it helped that I was in bed before 10 twice this week. I went to spin class, circuit training, cardio'd on my own, and this morning got back in the pool for swim class for the first time in months. I admit I'm a tad sore but its the good-for-you, productive pain.

One down, two to go.

The Place.

As you may recall, I have a Secret Shame. I do love The Place. But, it seems that The Place is only reserved as a comfort for bad things. I have been three times since caving into its siren song: the night before my review with reasonable trepidation; the day after one of my colleagues was killed in an accident; and, Tax Day.

Today, in honor of Tax Day, The Place offered a discount. With a mere 45 minutes for dinner, The Place was perfect. Sadly, I know the menu well enough to not even have to look. In fact, the reason I wasn't carded tonight was because of that knowledge. That has to be a new level of shame, right?

UGH.

Buying a house even worse than I thought. And, I thought I had really low expectations. Everything was proceeding merrily along, having worked hard to compile all of the necessary due diligence, being responsive and keeping everyone happy. My work training paying off, or so I thought.

Yesterday, as I was walking out the door to meet with the interior designer, a mere nine days before my closing, my mortgage company (WF), called to say that they had absolutely everything they needed from me.

Just one teeny, tiny, itsy bitsy problem: they needed the condo board to amend its bylaws.

Uh huh. As if that is something that can be accomplished in a week.

After trying my best to make it happen, and browbeating the broker into asking one more time for an exception, I had to cancel the deal with WF and start anew with another broker. Now, my closing is going to be delayed. All the fees incurred with WF are for naught. And, I suspect I might incur a penalty from the seller for delaying the closing. If so, one sternly worded and threatening letter is going to WF demanding my lost costs for their negligence.

The Purge.

As part of my moving preparations, I have purged my apartment twice in the past three weeks. After the first time, I collected seven bags earmarked for Goodwill and five bags directed toward the trash. I thought that was good. But last weekend, I realized there was still more stuff that does not need to be moved. So, I added another three bags to the Goodwill pile and another five bags to the trash.

While I -- more specifically my knees -- do not enjoy the many, many trips down the stairs, I very much enjoy the purge. I have drawers and shelves that are entirely empty. I don't know why I lived with all of this stuff before. It stayed here for almost six years, doing nothing. As of this morning, that stuff is out in the world, ready for someone to help it fulfill its purpose.

Habitual.

For most of my adult life, I've been a regular gym-goer. For the past year and a half, I turned myself into a morning worker-outer. That was a big change in habit for me as I'm really not a morning person. (Or a night person either. I'm good for about three hours during the day really.) But the morning classes at my gym are worth getting up at 6 to attend. That and it gets me to work earlier and I haven't bought shampoo in, coincidentally, a year and a half as I get ready at the gym 5-6 mornings per week.

But, in the last month, a combination of misbehaving knees and working too late caused me to break that habit. I resolved that this week would mark my re-dedication to morning workouts. My knees objected to that plan on Monday and Tuesday. This morning, when I really had no excuse, I still didn't get up and go because I was more comfortable in bed. It takes three weeks to make or break habit. And, I'm over the tipping point.

Its going to be a painful next three weeks as I re-make my morning workout habit. But, its a habit that's worth the pain. Or, at least, that's what I'm going to have to tell myself. We'll see in three weeks.

Hold 'em.

Saturday was Windy City Nights Casino Night, including a celebrity Texas Hold 'Em tournament. This was an event sponsored by the Junior League in which two of my friends were playing as celebrities. It was also designated by one of my friends as her birthday celebration and invited all of us to play in the tournament.

I don't know much about poker. In fact, I had to google it to learn the order of winning hands and get a general sense of when to automatically fold. (God bless Al Gore and his internet.) Nonetheless, I figured that if I lost everything quickly, no big deal. It was a charity and not real money. So, I was in.

Shortly before the event, I got a call from my mom telling me that my great uncle had died. He had been sick for a couple months but last I heard, was improving. In retrospect, I think that he spent the last 60 years or so being completely independent and the past two months of being totally dependent with people constantly in his space just wore him down. Faced with a future of daily medical assistance, it seems like he was just done because he died shortly after they removed that assistance.

Now, I realize it sounds rather cold to attend an event after hearing this news. But, in my opinion, I think it was the best possible tribute to my uncle that I could do. He lived in Chicago in the 1950s and I don't think I ever had a conversation or communication with him since I moved here that didn't express his love for the city and directing me to enjoy it while I could. Moreover, the man loved to play cards, going up to the casinos several times each year. I didn't win but I also didn't embarrass myself. If only I had finished the night with a big steak, it would have been a perfect night in honor of my uncle.

Under Contract.

Saturday began a whirlwind that will last until mid-May, I think. I looked at about ten places on Saturday afternoon and on the very last one, found my new home. That evening, I wrote my first offer. I didn't want to be insulting and I also didn't want a prolonged negotiation. As it turns out, the seller was on the same page and we both had the same bottom line. (Oddly, the seller is a female attorney who is about to have knee replacement surgery. In about 30 years, if I were to stay there, history could be repeating itself with this place.) Over drinks with my real estate agent, we negotiated a deal. By 11:00 pm, I was under contract.

My new place is in a building that I would consider aesthetically to be the red-headed step-child of one of the prettiest streets in Chicago. The building has an elevator, a feature my knees already appreciate. While I could move into the place without making any changes, I've decided that if I'm going to do this, I'm going to do as much as I can afford to make it perfect before I move in. So, I'll be removing the popcorn ceiling, possibly knocking out a wall to open up the kitchen, and re-tiling the bathroom. The mortgage shopping, inspection, attorney review period, closing and interior design are essentially my idea of hell. But, once done, I have no doubt that I will be thrilled that I did this.

And, as icing on the cake, although slightly embarrassingly but definitely fun-ly, my new place is in the same building as Melissa.

Proud.

I called my mom this afternoon at a little before 5:00 in Colorado. While she was happy to answer the question posed, she didn't feel like chatting. Why? Because she was with two of her friends drinking prosecco before going out to dinner.

Its time like this that make me proud.

Fresh Start.

So far, this year has not been the best ever. Primarily, work has been a delightful combination of busy, stressful and discouraging. With the exception of my five days in Anguilla, I have maybe two good things to say about this year to date. As a result, I'm trying to think of ways to shake it off and get a fresh start.

My major plan begins on Saturday. After years of listening to my parents' nagging me about the amount of money I continue to throw away as a renter, I'm going househunting this weekend. I tend to get overwhelmed pretty quickly when confronted with housing choices. I'm hampered by the fact that I have no ability with spacial relationships. It makes my head hurt just to think about if and how my furniture will fit in a space. I'm a person who goes in a circle folding box flaps because I just don't see the spacial relationships. Its a tad pathetic.

My years of procrastinating this house buying step has a couple benefits. First, if I had bought years ago, I likely wouldn't have known that I have no need to go outside of my zone in daily life. (Bounded by the loop on the south, the lake on the east, North Avenue to the north, and Halsted to the west, my zone has everything I want.) I like the West Loop but its not really a neighborhood. Wicker Park is a neighborhood that I like but I hate the traffic there. I don't like Lakeview at all, with the possible exception of Wrigley Field. Anything north of Lakeview might as well be Canada for me. I like the South side just fine but its houses are generally much more run down than the north side and I'm definitely not a fixer-upper girl, even if I wish I was occasionally. Second, had I bought a few years ago, I would have bought at the height of the seller's market. Now, its still a buyer's market, with even a touch of desperation from sellers after such a long downturn.

I am sincerely hoping to find a place on Saturday that I love so that I can make my fresh start by summer.

Daylight Savings Suckered.

Daylight Savings started last weekend. I wasn't one of those people who showed up somewhere an hour too early. Nope, all of my clocks were changed and I was timely on Sunday. And yet, I still got suckered by Daylight Savings. However, I wasn't the one who suffered.

Yesterday, I had a call with a client in Singapore and co-counsel in San Fran. It was a re-scheduled call from the week prior because the client had forgotten about it. We had to use the ten minute rule last week. The call was at 6:30 pm CT, 4:30 PT, and 8:30 am on March 18 in Singapore. Like the week before, ten minutes elapsed and there was no sound of the client. Co-counsel called her office, sent her an email saying he'd try her cell. He called me, and prior to conferencing her in, reminded me of what happened last weekend. We had totally forgotten that Singapore -- being essentially on the equator -- doesn't use daylight savings. We woke the poor woman up.

Whoops.

Typical.

This weekend has been typical. By that, I mean, I spent Saturday morning at the gym (really, I like my Saturday workouts so much that its almost worth the not-being-super-drunk on Friday to make my 9:00-11:00 am workout on Saturdays), then went to work. Saturday evening I watched Up in the Air, which hit a little too close to home with all the firings. I haven't been fired but still, a little close to home for me to love the movie despite the Clooney smirk.

Today, I indulged my lazy nature, sleeping in and laying around, watching Couples Retreat and reading a book. Had dinner at Eivissa, a tapas bar in Old Town, that I've already decided will be my warm weather weekend regular spot. Their sangria goes down like water. Food delicious. Dessert awesome. Can't wait to go back.

Sadly, I'm ending my weekend reviewing documents for a specific purpose while watching the Cutting Edge 3. "Toe Pick" doesn't fix everything apparently. Can't win them all.

Anguilla.

Anguilla is an island that has informally adopted the motto that "it is good to do nothing and then rest." It was exactly what I needed.

Everyday was fairly similar in weather and activity. It was somewhere between 83 and 89 degrees each day. Every morning, I worked out, went to the beach, ate a low key lunch, and had a couple drinks. Every afternoon, when it got really hot, we went back to the room, to read and nap on our balcony overlooking the crashing waves below. Every evening, dinner was around 7:30 and then we'd head back to resort's bar for some after dinner cocktails. Minor variations would exist in that pattern.

It may sound boring but it was perfect.

As an aside, while I didn't make my mom drink with me, she decided to keep me company. Woman probably had more drinks in five days with me than in the past five years combined. She is starting to see the beauty of bubbly. Rather than me becoming my mom, I'd say she's slowly becoming me. They grow up so fast.

Straw Hat.

Anguilla is billed by some as the culinary capital of the Caribbean. And, the food really was quite good, especially if you like jerk seasoning, conch, red snapper, and barbecue. All of which I happen to enjoy. But, my most favorite thing that I ate was not an entree. Instead, it was the best piece of cheesecake I've ever had. It tasted like spritz cookie dough with the best graham cracker crust with a hint of cinnamon and nut.

This cheesecake can be found at Straw Hat, a restaurant whose terrace is on the beach with the surf crashing not twenty feet away. Mom and I went there for dinner on Tuesday and shared the cheesecake. The next day, the cheesecake kept coming up in conversation -- amongst ourselves, with locals, and resort employees. Returning from after dinner drinks, we decided on a whim to try to get another piece of cheesecake because we couldn't stop thinking about it. But, we got there at 10 and the kitchen had already closed. We were supposed to give up our rental car the next morning but kept it solely for the purpose of cheesecake. However, this time we made a reservation for dessert. And, didn't share.

We ate our last piece of the best cheesecake ever on Straw Hat's 15th anniversary. While I asked for the recipe, they would not disclose it. So, I have made an appeal to Bon Appetite. Fingers crossed that Straw Hat cannot withstand a recipe request from Bon Appetite's RSVP column.

Vacation Blues.

In short: vacation was really wonderful and being back in the office is really much less so.

As I sat in a windowless conference room today, paging through five boxes of paper, with the papercuts to prove it, surrounded by nothing but boxes and no one to talk to, I realized just how much less so. A week ago, I was sitting on the beach, surrounded by surf and sand, enveloped by the warmth of my old friend the sun, with my mom at my side, sharing barbeque and drinks. I could get used to that very easily. As my mom said as we sat in the St. Maarten airport, hearing flights being called for Saba, St. Bart's, and St. Kitt's, it was poor planning to go home after only five days. But, unfortunately, while poor planning, had we stayed as long as my lazy heart desired, I'd be planning to be poor.

Add to that week juxtaposition, today I had to accept a change in position that is rather discouraging. Hopefully, it will turn out to be for the best, but today, I'm blue about the whole work thing.