Proper Attire Required

Last night I took a Black Car (via Uber!) for the first time. I was headed downtown to The Aviary to have some posh drinks with people I didn't know, crashing a party I had no business attending.

The cabbie driver remarked civily when a cabbie cut him off and I said:

"Between the cab drivers and NPR being on their pledge drive, I bet you aren't having much fun."

He laughed. I laughed. We arrived. He opened the door. I got out looking confidently confused in black tights and high-waist-ed shorts (What character was I playing? Maybe a chic hipster who wears the same designer shorts year round and only adds/removes layers.) I joined an already cramped, already drunk group around an array of special drinks with special equipment to boot.

I got The Luau which is ginny-liquor over frozen dippin-dots made from green tea.

And the Ford's Model Tea which is a booze medley served in a tea cup next to a clear glass pot of bergamot on dry ice. The pot being "not for drinking, just for aromatics."

They took the pot of dry ice away from our boisterous table (as well as a tall North American reed from another person's drink), others took the check, I took a seat in another black car and arrived home to a very normal, yellow-cab-n-cubed-ice life feeling very silly in my black shorts... and very fun!

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First Star to the Right and Straight on 'til Morning

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When there's a smile in your heart 
There's no better time to start
Think of all the joy you'll find 
When you leave the world behind 
And wave your cares goodbye
You can fly
You can fly
You can fly
You can fly

I was reciting lines from Peter Pan last night. The Mr. indicated that he'd never seen it before so, of course...

As a child I could recite the whole movie. Now, I can only remember some of the lines. Mostly I remember Wendy's because she had a lyrical quality to her voice that made is stick like a song. 

When we were looking up the movie, the Mr. asked me if it was the one made in the 50's. I was surprised to realize how old the film was. Naturally, its been restored for color and clarity, but the cartoon was still pretty impressive. 

The racism, sexism, politically-incorrectness was pretty impressive too. Taking it all in with nostalgia through a historical lens made it pretty wonderful though and we overlooked a lot. 

Not sure the Mr. found the magic as beguiling as I did, but I was singing and lilting alongside the Darling children, their parents, and the incredible creatures that leapt out of the minds of children and into the world of Neverland. 

As an adult, I was drawing connections between the movie, niche pop-culture, the strange fairy-obsessed crowd that can be manifests itself on Halloween and Michael Jackson. 

But with some wine in hand, a sleeping dog at my feet and a patient Mr. willing to participate in a skip down memory lane, I was only drawn out of the wonderment temporarily, jumping right back in in time to bob my head to the tick-tock of the crocodile clock.

Duh duh duh, du-du-duh-duh duh, dum dum dum duh du duh duh duh duh....

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Flip-It Friday: Pacific Northwest Call For Opinions

Calling all who aren't so Sleepless in Seattle or who've Voyaged to Vancouver!

The Mr. and I are trekking to the PacNoWest this fall and want to make sure we make the most of it.

So, if you've ever been to those two cities, what's a Must-See/Eat/Do/Sleep? We like to eat and drink (breweries, wineries, coffee shops, etc.) our way through trips and can rough it but prefer to pamper when vacationing.

And in return, I'll give you a short city guide to My-Chi*!

Local Food: Lou Malnati's or Giordano's Chicago Style pizza.
Localer Food: Goose Island, Orange (brunch), The Chicago Diner (vegan), Berry Moon Fro-yo
Localest Food: Maude's Liquor Bar, Glazed and Infused, Violet Hour (drinks), Revolution Brewing

Local Do: Cubs/Sox/'Hawks/Bulls/Bears/Thunder/Fire/Force/Bliss game, The Bean, Architectural Boat Tour
Localer Do: Second City Comedy, Live shows in pocket venues like The Elbo Room, M Lounge or Fizz
Localest Do: Allyu Spa, Millennium Park music, North Avenue Beach, Armitage Ave or Rush St Shopping

Local Sleep: Chain hotels
Localer Sleep: The Wit, The Drake
Localest Sleep: Longman and Eagle

Millennium Park Pritzker Pavilion via

What do you like to do in Chicago, Seattle or Vancouver?

* If this goes well, I'll expand on it to really give details of my favorite spots.

I wonder if drunk people ever try to "santa" down a chimney...?

This past weekend my Father in Law (FIL) asked my Mr., in front of me, if he ever got sick of my positive attitude. I piped up saying, "You and I are more alike than you know!"*

See, he doesn't read this blog. He doesn't know how much I complain on here. Just like you guys might not know how much I am really positive in real life.

So I decided to tell you what I DO like for once.

Twitter jokes. Brevity + Humor = Speaka-muh-language.
Flat shoes. Marrying a short man and living in a walkable city means that ditching the heals is a welcome necessity.
My job. This is the first job I've ever really liked.

My life overall right now.

The Mr. and I are keeping an eye on one of our neighbor's places while they're away getting married and said couple has roof access. They have a cool built-out deck area and gave us the OK to jump up there while they were gone.

Last night after getting home from a fast weekend away (thanks for coming out, Berta!), we got the neighbor's mail and decided to check out the roof while delivering it. A storm seemed to be approaching from all directions but the winds were low and the air still warm. We stayed outside until the drops were fat enough to make you blink, taking in a complete 360 view as the tallest building nearby with roof-access. A beautiful local church steeple, smoke stacks on renovated warehouses turned lofts, and The Sears Tower all seemed our peers. We felt a little Fiddler. A little Mary Poppins. Or maybe I was the only one who felt I could break out into song. But being up on the roof, being unparalleled reminded me of how wonderfully, simultaneously alone and together I can be in a city of millions.


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*He's a glass-half-full kinda guy... but there's acid in his glass and he's being water boarded with it.

End Demand Illinois

I saw this sign on the back of a bus on yesterday.

Which is strange, because I read this article Wednesday.

The topic has come up in conversations about whether it should be legal. Prostitution, not trafficking. So it can be safer. So it can be regulated.

I'm against legalization of prostitution with a sort of radiating combo of pity and hatred. I can somehow feel it in my spine when people get nonchalant about it. I can't totally explain why I hate it, but I can't stop thinking, "That's someone's child."

Some women chose to get into that profession, but most are coerced. Or they're adolescents. Or they're drugged up (their decision or someone else's). I think that's why I hurt in my bones over this issue.

I'm really happy to see that the media is turning its eyes on others involved in these crimes. Whether it should be legal or not, prostitution is illegal for now. And human trafficking is and should always be illegal. So however you look at it, we need to be taking a broader view of prostitution. We need to look at the puppeteers above the stage and the shadowed faces in the crowd - not the just dolls on strings.

Clear Eyes, Full Hearts, Can't Lose

But can't win either, 'cause I'm no racer.

But I did have a pretty good time and made pretty good time at last weekend's Race to Wrigley.

And deeeeeen, I had a giant mimosa and passed out for 2 hours.

What a wonderful way to spend a Saturday!

Hello, Too-cool-for-school*

*You're not if you use that word.

But I may have my neighborhood to thank for saving my cred!

Click the image to see it larger. 

Find if your neighborhood is cool (according to NY standards) here. 

Chicago Dog Beach

Chicago is a dog-friendly city. We have sidewalks everywhere, grassy patches, dog parks in convenient places, tons of groomers/boarders/walking services and....

Dog Beaches!

 Eat. My. Sand. 

 Roo's the lunchmeat in a nipping-sandwich.

Whatdoyaknow? Roobabe can swim. As with all things, she did it with gusto and without fear!

Too bad she gets car-sick on rides over 20 minutes long (she puked on the way home from this excursion), but we're hoping she gets over that soon.

 Lots of fishermen this Sunday. This guy got a big fish. Not so sure I'd want to eat Lake Michigan fish, though.

 "Is it ok if I just pull really hard on the leash the whole time? Ok, thanks." - Roobabe

 Diversey Harbor

 "Roobabe, let's pose for a picture."

"Oh, ok, here's my butt."

 "Let's go!", says Roobabe.

The human folk enjoyed a nice sunny walk with Roobabe and some Chicago style hot dogs from a friendly, underground locale called "Flub a Dub Chub" hot dogs. Then we all had a nap. It was such a good Sunday.

 Album cover art!

 So dirty!

As for my birthday, we went to see this hilarious show on Friday. It was a surprise and we got orchestra seats in row M... which is near the stage! Good job, Mr.!

We ate dinner here on Saturday. We had and recommend the pickle-tots and the coffee cake dessert. I had an orange-y cocktail. It was pretty good but the Mr. wasn't feeling well so we didn't linger. We picked up our Roo at doggy daycare and surprised her with two new toys for her birthday. She had one chewed up in minutes. The other is a nylon bone hybrid and more sustainable.

Grandma Stew is really, really ridiculously good-looking.

Title reference

My brother said there's been a lack of positive posts lately, which is true. So here's something neutral if not positive. (Funeral photos are positive if Grandma has her Zoolander face on, right?)

Camera unload! Whamo, blamo!

 Photo from Christmas... of some angels!

 Photos from Grandpa Stew/Stu's funeral.Grandma is bringing out Blue Steel for these photos.

 The rest of these are from the neighborhood when we were out walking the dog recently.This house takes up at least two city blocks and has a driveway, garage, corner lot, beautiful stained glass windows and some impressive architecture. 

I admire the variety of houses in our neighborhood.

Spring!

I can't wait to TripAdvisor the h*$# our of my trip to Boca

We're taking a short vacay/long weekend away over MLK day to FL and this chart describes

EXACTLY

how I feel.

Florida is the armpit of America. A garbage dump. Hee-haw swamp-town with pepperings of old Jews, bayou people and red necks. 

I love you, Floridian friends. Make no mistake that my feelings for your state bear NO reflection on my affection for you :)

Flip-It Friday, Part Two: NYE

What should we do for NYE? One of my favorites will be in town for the celebration and I want to show her a rocking/weird time.

This is happening in my neighborhood:

So weird. But lovely weird?

This is also happening nearby:

Girltalk-nearly?

And this is happening a stone's throw from my home:

But I don't do nearly enough coke (like, no coke at all) to experience this properly.

We could roar like we're 20.

Er, get your flappers flappin'.

Is this NYE or Halloween?

Where's the Exit? (I've actually been to this bar. It is just as scary as it looks, but fun.)

Another roaring 20's party, but this one seems... more my speed.

What are you doing for NYE?

Big City Love

My east-coaster loved ones (hey hey MA, NJ, CT, RI, NH, NY, VA) are alright, thank goodness.

Reminders for what to do after a hurricane.

The Red Cross is taking donations.

Thoughts and prayer and dollars, from my skyline to yours.

Oh We Got Trouble With (a) Capital Confusion

Trying not to lose my head but I have never been this scared before
Tell you what I'll do instead, lay my body down on the floor
To forget what I've done, silhouette til the good lord come
All we know is distance
We're close and then we run
Kiss away the difference
I know you hate this one
Trying not to lose your own, boxing up everything, you've got
All you ever knew of home, you're scared scared to see
Your mother there in the door, you wonder where did the years go
All we know is distance
We're close and then we run
Kiss away the difference
I know you hate this one
But this is how the story ends
Or have we just begun
To kiss away the difference
I know you hate this one
The violins make no sound
And I begin to feel the ground
All we know is distance
We're close and then we run
Kiss away the difference
I know you hate this one
But this is where the story ends
Or have we just begun
To kiss away the difference
I know you hate this one

Song Suggestion: Where the Story Ends by The Fray

For the self-titled album by the The Fray, the song above is one of the less somber sounding. It starts with a good cymbal beat and perking teeth-tickling (the ivories, the keys).

Anyone else feeling overdue for the election?

 (murmors in the crowd)

Hell. I can't even listen to some piano rock without it glazing my interpretation of the music.

Hell. Even Time magazine is spinning on it's desk chair and clicking the print button 3 times too many:

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They have me asking, literally, "Which way's up?"

Hell.

When I was in high school I was in theatre. During dress rehearsal week of the 5th production of my 7-production-career I had a melt down. Crying in the hallway outside the cafeteria. Just overload. So ready to freaking give birth to the anticipated event that I started making mistakes. One too many sashays to the left. A beat too late on "right here in River City".

I feel that's how we are, as a nation, now. People are retracing the baseboard next to the yellow wallpaper of their beliefs. And we're wearing a hole in the floorboards people. We're losing site of how we even got in the attic.

Take heart, my fellow Unionites!

The eve of our greatest relief is upon us. In a few short/long days we'll be done with Obama-Romma-Drama and onto reporting Honey Boo-Boo's new line of wheeled sneakers called "Go-Go-Boo-Shoes."

So look forward to the new glitter-n-belly flesh-toned shoes for toddlers. But in the mean time, don't forget to sashay over to the polls and vote right here in River City.

You can stop reading after the 8th paragraph if political musings aren't your thing.

This past weekend I planned to sit in the bathtub with wine, bubbles and Talk-to-Speech on Kindle while scalding off my top later of skin along with my worries.

Instead I walked a mile, took a train, walked 5 minutes, took another train and spend all of my Saturday morning and some of the afternoon crossing Chicago and Northern Indiana to spend time with the Mr.'s family.

We are a one-car household and the Mr. had taken it to a wedding in Purdue-land where he's from.  While on his way he got a call from his aunt in N. Indiana that if we wanted to see Grandpa, we should come soon.

That translates to "He's on his deathbed", right?

Wrong.

He answered the door himself and looked super surprised and sorta peeved that we showed up on such short notice.

Of course he wasn't really peeved. He just thought that everyone was assembling to pull the plug on him. Shoot, I'd be alarmed too. "Am I being put down?" Is what I would think.

So over-worry aside, it was a good trip.

Then Grandpa gave us some reading material for the way home. Cut me to swearing at page 5 of 8 of a local man's rant on how America's the greatest and how it totally screwed if we don't do something about it. (Confused? You should be!)

I wont go into what was said (total racism: "The U.S. is great... as long as you can just put those black people in a box and ship them back to where they came"), but I'll give you a hint: as a Jew he was surprisingly removed from what it's like to be oppressed.

That was just the icing on the cake.

Being in Indiana made me realize just how different states can be. We live right next door to a state with similar demographics, similar climate, similar crops, accents and landscapes. But turn on the TV in IN and you get an expensive, long commercial on "clean coal" with a male voice-over featuring sexy female models, naked under overalls, using jackhammers in a glistening mine of what looks like black diamonds.

From a marketing standpoint, the intended audience for this commercial would be straight men in labor jobs. Or just men for that matter. 

Meanwhile in Illinois our "clean coal" ad is a woman in a pantsuit in front of a white screen speaking for herself and discussing options with minimal graphics and lots of jargon.

The audience here would be intellectuals, men and women. The words speak a lot louder than the images. 

But note that BOTH are conservative viewpoints.

During our visit and discussion the Mr.'s Grandpa came back to one underlying statement, "Let each state do for themselves."

He wants to get rid of several agencies in the government (and hilariously, he couldn't remember them just as Rick Perry couldn't remember the Department of Energy), one of them being the Department of Education.

I asked him what about the kids in Alabama or New Mexico who receive some of the worst education in the U.S.

"Let them figure it out."

But kids can't vote. Unlike any other issue (gay marriage, abortion rights, healthcare, taxes), the citizens most affected are those that cannot vote and some of them cannot even write (to their congressman).

So should New Mexico just fall by the wayside? 
Should it be up to the states? 
What if you were a child/parent in Nevada? (the worst state for education as of this year)

Massachusetts is #1 in education. Maybe Mitt-bot has a plan he can employ for the nation that he used in MA. 

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