Double Culture Feature.

My friend Stephanie got a great deal on four tickets to the Lyric Opera. I spent the first 11.75 hours of the day preparing for/riding to/facilitating at/riding back from my volunteer gig with a local theatre, and arrived home at 6:15 p.m., just 15 minutes away from catching a ride downtown with Stephanie and Kaye.

Luckily, my black heels had been left under my desk at work so I no longer felt the pressure to be dressed like a pretty lady. I grabbed some stuff, stressed out at Tim, and caught my ride. Kaye had also had a long day with little to eat, and when we got dropped off downtown, we tried our luck at the McDonald's across the street for the opera house.

What? The McDonald's closes at 6 p.m. on the weekends? Apparently the Lyric doesn't bring in enough foot traffic. We ended up inhaling some Combos and pretzels before heading in to enjoy the The Elixir of Love, by Gaetano Donizetti.

This was the FIRST professional opera performance I have ever seen.

And it was wonderful.

There were rarely five minutes without laughter from the audience, and because of the subtitles above the stage, sometimes we got a sneak peak at the punch line before the actor got there. Who cares! There was a horse on stage! And there was one part during the second act where I left my seat, traveled back in time, and PINED FOR THIS WOMAN along with our hero, Nemorino. I spent two and a half hours in awe of a people who can use their body as an instrument to fill a performance hall, grinning and sighing along with the chorus, and laughing at a townswoman exclaim "I heard it from the peddler, so it MUST be true!"

And the people watching. We were hustling out of hall when I asked Stephanie why she didn't wear one of her many fur coats out this evening. Stephanie replied she couldn't decide which one to wear, but she had been thinking about her new panda bear coat. WOW. Lots of fur there. Like, about five zoos worth of fur. A lot of four-legged creatures died for that opera. I digress.

Afterwards made our way to Zolaco, a restaurant in River North. They warned us that dancing would start soon so it wouldn't be conducive to dinner conversation. The music started about 15 minutes later and we yelled across the table at each other for the next 20 minutes, which was actually relaxing after being in such a formal place. We also got to watch all the men line the dance floor and eye every woman that walked by until the DJ switched to Latin dance music and BAM! The dance floor was packed with couples. Everyone was moving their hips, sholders, heels, and toes in perfect rhythm to compliment their partner while looking around the dance floor like, hey, hmm...regular day, doo dee doo...BAM! here comes my DANCE.




Again, fun to watch talented people be talented. Thankya, Chicago and Stephanie.

Four days of celebration.

To truly understand how fun Friday night was, I first should tell you that I woke up on Saturday morning with a one word text from friend Kaye:

"Wowza."

Kaye hosted eight and SURPRISE! an additional lady on Friday night for chili, games, and lots of wine. Double digit wine. But that's beside the point. We had Kentucky/Cincinnati style chili over pasta with cheese and oyster crackers, and played a game called Quelf.

Quelf was like Cranium on a combination of uppers, downers, and store brand grape cough syrup. I think it would be perfectly suited for a youth group at Catholic church---the things you were instructed to do were both completely innocent and absurdly wacky. They seemed like stage directions for acting drunk in a 1960's sitcom. Act like an ice skater! Every time you ask a question, touch your thumb to your eyebrow. You're it! No one can touch you and if they do, THEY'RE IT! It was a lot to keep track of, but we played for about 2 hours and only progressed about 10 spaces. I, it should be noted, only progressed 2 spaces.

Saturday night I was back at Kaye's to learn solo salsa dancing from Mai before we headed to Dana's birthday party at a Nacional 27. I unfortunately did not get to show off my sweet left and right turns to the beautiful people surrounding us---after spending the afternoon trying to post stuff to Craigslist and cleaning out our storage space in the basement, I just couldn't get into party mode. So I left my friends with beautiful vintage dresses and a-line shirts formerly used for Beyonce costumes and went home to go to bed.

Which means I was up and raring to go on Sunday, SUNDAY, SUNDAY! Rita and I went on a 5 mile run/walk, and then several us Cincinnatians went to Cinners, one of the few places to get Cincinnati style chili in Chicago (I'm only now realizing how much chili I ate this weekend). Then we all trekked to Stacey and Toby's house, where I got to watch them finish off a batch of beer and listen to records. Man, their house is so stressful.

Martin Luther King Day! Did you know that up until 2000 in Virginia, MLK Day was celebrated as Lee Jackson King Day? This was to simultaneously commemorate Robert E. Lee, Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson, and of course, Martin Luther King, Jr. Seems logical, right?

I celebrated by listening to several hours of MLK coverage on NPR. Cheers to having a black president, cheers to offering nothing but support to Haiti, cheers to having good friends that support each other and attend Go-Go Dancing class together. To me, the little things support the big things.

Lunch break.

I sometimes take my lunch break at my desk. I take advantage of those 30 minutes in my day when I don't have to sit in front of a computer screen looking at numbers and letters, and I sit in front of a computer screen and look at photos and numbers and letters.

Tim has officially told me I cannot buy anything for our apartment because it is full. And he is right. But I still like to take 10 or 15 minutes to search Craiglist for "logan square," just to see what our neighbors are selling.

And look at this gem: elephant!!!

I like that the seller included photos of the elephant on public transit and bus stop benches, just so we can get a clear picture of all the lovely things you can do with an elephant. Thanks, logan square seller 1447546415!

Overheard from downstairs neighbors.

G_____! Ah! Come here!

Come HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERE! Come here right now!

G_____G_____G_____, Come here come here come here!

(Charlie Brown trombone)

It's a bug! A giant bug!

(longer Charlie Brown trombone inquiry)

YOU come here and kill it! It's BIG! I hate it!

(short Charlie Brown trombone response)

UGHHHH. I hope it comes out and BITES YOU!


(silence)



UGH.


(more silence)


I DON'T EVEN HAVE SHOES!






(I love my building.)

Adventures in Uptown.

It started out as a simple idea. Let's go out on Friday night! Just the ladies! Yayyyyyy!

And then I suggested that we see a show at Annoyance Theatre. I'm not even going to re-type the title of the musical, because if I did, most would say "well, what did you expect?" Which is why I have this unsettled feeling of bewilderment. I EXPECTED it to be a horrible, offensive, one-penny production with bad actors. I just didn't expect to be so right.

Thoughts that myself, Kaye, Christina, Rita, and Stephanie all had at one point during the first half of the show:

He's going to hurt his voice if he keeps talking like that.
Oh, no. She's not going to say...oh. She said it.
Don't drink that...oh. He drank it.
The Dame is actually pretty good.
Yelling in key is not singing.
Ugh, maggots.
I need another drink.
Why do his jeans fit so weird?
He's not going to take off...oh. He took it off.
He's not going to use his belt on his...Oh.
Thank god there's an intermission so we can leave.

Thought that another audience member said out loud:

What IS this?



Heh. It was actually really funny to look over and see all the ladies exchanging the same WHAT THE WHAT?! looks. Everyone was too nice to say they wanted to leave at intermission, so I pointed that no one said they actually wanted to stay. Did I mention that before we went to THE THEATRE we had an amazing dinner at De Mera? The manager was annoying ("hey, have you guys heard of Facebook?" WHAT?) but the food was delicious, and I love eating without a knife and fork (or spoon).

We decided to find a place for a drink, and tried out about five different bars before settling on Max's bar. We wanted to find a hole in the wall that wasn't too loud or crowded, and this was certainly the place. Since there was no place to go but up from our previous entertainment, we enjoyed the many unique characteristics this bar had to offer with smiles on our faces: a "unique" smell, a bartender that was maybe six months pregnant and the only other woman in the bar, lots of leering men, and a one-eyed man that kept creeping towards our table until the bartender would yell "Larry! Come over here!" and then he'd retreat to a bar stool for about 10 seconds before slowly standing up and sidling over to our table again. Again, on the up side, everyone said goodbye to us when we left. Very sad, leering goodbyes.

To top off the night, I swore at a cab driver. What a night! Uptown...you are a strange minx of a neighborhood. I'm glad I got to experience it with a group of fun-loving and forgiving females. Sorry ladies.

Summer Refund Party at the Neighbor's.

No mosquitos, no sand in the swimsuit. What happened to summer this year? Our creative and oh so physically attractive (see below) neighbors hosted a party to bring a bit of the season back. The main event was a potluck followed by a screening of the classic film, Sleepaway Camp. Description from Netflix.com reveals the intriguing plot line:

Welcome to Camp Arawak, where teenage boys and girls learn to experience the joys of nature, as well as each other. But when these happy campers begin to die in a series of horrible accidents, they discover that someone -- or something -- has turned their summer of fun into a vacation to dismember. Has a dark secret returned from the camp's past... or will an unspeakable horror end the season forever?

What a lovely treat. Thanks, Dave and Danielle! Stop looking so cute. I said STOP.






Isn't this cute? Instead of using lamps by the movie screen they used gold ballons. It still made it feel like a theatre without affecting the picture quality. Yay smart host/hostess!










Yes, be jealous. This was a great way to say goodbye to summer, even though I couldn't stay to watch the film (I have no tolerance for suspense). I came home after a few edge-of-your-seat games of Sequence at Kaye's house and peeked my head out the window to hear how the film was going.

Music swelled in the background as a young female camper called out "Michael? Is that you?"
A backyard patron said what everyone else was thinking: "Oh, honey, it's not."

More Chicago.

After an oddly chilly weekend which left me watching Star Wars IV: A New Hope while organizing my new spice cabinet, I've been feeling a little guity for my lack of outgoing-ness in the city I live.

However, our dependable upstairs neighbors brought this to our attention:

Be a part of history in the making! On Tuesday, July 21, at the Chicago Outdoor Film Festival on Butler Field in Grant Park, we're breaking a record. Join us for that evening's presentation of the Marx Brothers classic "Duck Soup" and we'll give you a Groucho nose and glasses as we attempt to enter the Guinness Book of World Records for "the most people wearing Groucho Marx glasses." Be sure to sign in to receive your glasses. We must wear them for a total of 10 minutes and pose for video and photo, at approximately 8:15pm. Bring your friends, bring your family and join us and our partners, The Goodman Theatre, for this unique experience. It's history in the making and you don't even need to say the secret word! For this season's complete line up of films and more information on the Chicago Outdoor Film Festival, visit www.ChicagoOutdoorFilmFestival.us

Well, I'm not likely to miss an opportunity like this. Also, I've never seen a Marx Brothers film before, and my urge to Wikipedia them made me feel like even more a of an excuse for an American. So I jumped in feet first, ate a bunch of cookies, and put on my glasses with the rest of the cigar smoking slap stickers.

It was pretty cool. And it was really funny. The sound was also good, which is usually why I don't watch movies made before 1968. That's also why I don't watch British films or TV shows---I just can't understand them, too much white noise mixed in.

It's sad. I know. I've gotten over it. And it's another excuse not to watch Dr. Who with Tim, whose theme song sends me into vertigo every time I hear it. Curse you, weird BBC audio!



P.S. The 11th and newest "Doctor" in Dr. Who is the same actor who played Barty Couch...JUNIOR! in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Geek and double geek that I caught that.

A post of incomplete sentences.

Got off work at 2 p.m. yesterday and headed straight for the beach. Wandered around for thirty minutes trying to find Mai, Stu, and Tim, and wished I had a cell phone. Enjoyed swimming till Tim told me my suit was see through. What? What?

Biked back to downtown. Rode in my first Critical Mass, a monthly ride where bikers gather and follow an unannounced, uninterrupted urban route, usually taking over both sides of traffic, while bikers and police officers block of cars. Many people have "the mixed feelings" about this, as it's fun to ride with so many people through parts of Chicago, but at some point, they've also been stuck in two hours of sitting still traffic waiting for bikes to pass. Heard both Lita Ford and The Gossip pumping out of the speakers that someone was towing behind their bike. Saw this guy yell "YES! Lita Ford!" Nobody yelled for the Gossip, but you can listen to them here:



Critical Mass was about 300 bikers of all ages and bikes, although there seemed to be an abundance of cute girls on cruisers and punk rock boys of fixed gears or bikes that looked like fixed gears. I saw one kid that was wearing cut off brown overalls with no shirt, no shoes, curly hair and a rat tail. He looked like one of the Herdman kids from The Best Christmas Pageant Ever.



Biked and biked and biked and biked at a very slow pace. Cut off at Damon and headed for a Bachelorette Party 2009, Stephanie Trautwein (it rhymes). Met siblings and classmates I've been hearing about for years! And Stephanie stayed up till 1 o'clock! That's probably a record. Ate delicious cheese and found out Christina is a smoker. What? What?! Headed home to Timothy.

Woke up to the car battery being dead and Tim is late for work. Boo. Come on Saturday, you can do it.

Our neighborhood.

One of these things is not like the other,
One of these things just doesn't belong.
Can you guess which thing is not like the other
By the time I finish this song?





YAAAAAAYYYYYY! You got it!

Yesterday while driving home from work, Tim called and said, hey, do you want to see something funny?

Sure, I said.

Go look out the front window, says Tim. It's sitting on the ground. THE GROUND!

Point of reference.

On Wednesday our friend’s car gotten broken into. We were helping her roommate care of it for her cause she’s in Tokyo (I know) and the tow truck guy was like, hey, you should take it to Fernando’s to get the glass fixed.

Where’s Fernando’s? we said.

AH, do you know where the abortion clinic is? Says the over 40, over weight, thick Chicago accent tow truck guy.

AH, no, not really. We said.

What?! You don’t know where the aBORtion clinic is? EVERYBODY knows where the aBORtion clinic is, geez, he reasoned.

I don’t think I’ve ever had somebody use an abortion clinic as a point of reference when giving directions before, I said. He just kind looked at us like, stupid hipsters.
He also noted later that the car theives did a real slick job, and didn’t damage the car any further than they had to. Thanks, thieves!

Also, we did see an AWESOME hipster while waiting for the tow: he had a teeny tiny dog, bright red, giant tongued high tops, skinny dark jeans, some sort of leather studded coat, slicked/gelled hair, and fake Ray Ban sunglasses. AND HE WAS so, so SERIOUS ABOUT IT. I was all, where are the Saved by the Bell auditions? Are they casting for Slater’s cousin?

Time and money.

We had a GREAT Memorial Day weekend. We spent WAY too much money on nothing too important, but enjoyed ourselves way too much as well:
• Using $50 gift certificate to Friendship Chinese Restaurant plus lots of BYOB wine
• Lounging around on Saturday with nothing to do but play piano (!) and go on a bike ride to a produce stand a couple miles away (rhubarb!)
• Playing shuffle board at a cyclist bar and getting called honeys on the way there
• Watching the first six episodes of the flight of the Conchords multiple times



• Playing with the upstairs neighbors' kitten----OH MY, so cute, and their adult cat, Miro, who is big and furry and looks like she is wearing britches made of fluff
• Running with Mai and enjoying a leisurely breakfast of scones and coffee
• Going to a "Welcome Home, Penny!" cat party and eating vegan tacos
• Getting hustled in a ping pong match but winning $20
• Beating Tim at ping pong multiple times, realizing we needed to work on our circular follow-through a bunch
• An unexpected treat! Seeing my classmate Annie and catching up over pizza and beer together at 4 p.m.
• Playing two-player Lego Star Wars on Wii for several hours and repeatedly crying "why are you so mean?" at Tim when I wouldn't follow his Jedi around to his liking, and then later both of us saying "this is frustrating," multiple times but refusing to quit
• Mai and Stu watching us eating 25cent wings and saying goodbye before she leaves for Tokyo for two weeks
• Climbing into bed with the cats

It was great.

Anti Pants Day.

To save an extra ten minutes on my commute, I ride my bike to the blue line every day. A couple weeks ago I was biking to work and my dress pants got caught in my bike chain. I parked the bike and starting pulling. Since they were relatively cheap and only about 50% flattering, I just ripped them out of the gear and ruined the hem. I pedaled on without a twinge of remorse or a sincere apology to the bike.

On Tuesday I was riding home from the train. It was a lovely day, the sky was blue, and I was done with work! Yippee! So I was happy. About two blocks into my seven block ride, my bike chain saw the window of opportunity it had been waiting for and chomped down on my dress pants again. This was a different pair, and because the too-short hem I requested from mom looks very Audrey Hepburn when I wear a button down shirt and flats, I decided I WAS NOT LOSING THOSE PANTS.



So I pulled over, just like before. Knowing that the materials was stronger (uh, more polyester, I believe) I started yanking on my pants with my right hand while still sitting on the bike. The 70 other blue ride riders walking down Kedzie were kind enough to completely ignore the grown woman trying to wrench her office attire free of a blue beach cruiser. Thanks, comrades. I got off the bike and tried pulling on my pants with both hands, but my right ankle was not going to budge, so I had no other choice than to accept defeat. For another five blocks I sat on my bike, casually dangling my right leg next to the chain guard, while leaning and scooting my unhelpful bike and trying my best to "get on my good foot."



All the way home and only one teenage girl laughed at me! Because of the pants, I wasn't able to do large pushes with my left foot (push...wheeeee! push...wheeee!). Instead I had to repeatedly tap the ground with my big toe (put put put put put put STREEETTCH put put put put). While puttering along I started using my award winning (not really) problem solving skills on the next dilemma at hand. The only way to save the pants would be to remove myself from them, i.e., be pantless. Here was my train of thought:

1. I'll have to take the pants off in the apartment
2. How do I get the bike into the apartment? I'll just carry it in, of course!
3. YEAH! I'll use the back porch, because it's so big and wide and I won't have too much trouble. Then I'll walk into the house and take off my pants. I envision myself effortlessly carrying the large heavy bike up three flights of stairs, entering the kitchen and removing the pants calmly without cause for celebration.
4. Ohhhhhh. Wait. I don't have a back door key, and Tim isn't home. I can't go in the back porch.
5. Okay, I'll just go in the front door, carry the bike upstairs, and take of my paints! YES!

By the time I got to my front door, I realized that carrying a bike that is glued to your inner right thigh is easier than it sounds. What I actually had to do was open a heavy glass door, unlock another heavy glass door within two feet of the first door, prop both doors open with my body, and turn the bike 180 degrees so I was lifting it through the entry way backwards, which meant the handlebars were swerving in every direction possible. After about ten minutes of holding both doors open, tugging at bike tires, and dodging stair way rails, I had only succeeded in the getting the bike through the front door, but not up the three flights of carpeted stairs to my apartment. Here was my next train of thought.

1. I cannot lift this bike up the stairs without damaging any more walls, banisters, or doors. And my arms are tired.
2. Currently, there are only three apartments between me and my apartment.
3. I have never seen anyone in the halls when I have come home from work.
4. Really? Never?
5. Yes, never.
6. I am wearing oddly thick nylons under my pants, and boy shorts underwears, which provide more coverage than a swimmun suit bottom.
7. My coat is long enough to cover my lady parts.

I think you can see where this is going. In a blur of triumph, I removed my shoes and pants in the entryway and raced up the stairs in my pantyhose and modest coat coverage. I did a little dance before getting all grown up and putting on pants again, like, heh, you thought you had me, bike, but I perservered. Sucker.

I was so excited about defeating the bike that I later put on my running pants inside out and didn't notice till I ran past a large window on North Avenue and saw the large white tag contrasted against the seat of my black stretchy pants.

Damn you pants! Why don't you like Tuesdays? Oh, and it took Tim 30 seconds to remove the pants from the bike, along with a 2"x2" scrap of fabric from the pants that lost the first battle of the chain guard. BUT WE WON THE WAR!

green and tv.

When some friends visited in February, I was four stars embarrassed that I knew the story lines to so many pointless tv shows. Shows I didn't care about, but was storing personal and criminal histories for up to eight characters each.also, these friends are also those mysterious creatures that don't own a tv.

So I decided I was done watching wife swap and desperate housewives, not to mention law and order svu and its horribly dramatic puns. No more sitting in front of the tv with the excuse that Iowas saving money while I was loosing valuable grey matter.

So for the last six weeks I dramatically cut back on tv. I listened to he radio when I needed background noise, and decided that I could actually give my computer my full attention instead of trying to split it five ways and wondering why my automatic payments are getting messed up.

But I really love tv.

And I don't think that I would be who I am without Murphy Brown, Designing Women, Cheers, and My So-Called Life. Big cities! People that worked in OFFICES. Teens that were nervous and got into trouble! So glamorous to someone who grew up in rural North Dakota.

My parents are moving back to the farm we grew up on, and I've decided I need to start growing my own vegetables. So trendy for a young couple in the big city of Chicago.Part of me really misses the air and sky. And the clean dirt.

But I don't think I'm ready to leave the city. At the moment, I'm walking with about 100 other train passengers to see the murky green Chicago River get dyed Leprechaun Green.

And I forgot to wear green. Should have watched the news this morning.

Meetup.com

I'm looking around for a book, religious discussion, running or cooking club to join in Chicago with minimal financial requirements, so I started looking on meetup.com today. Here are a few groups that caught my eye.



Totally under qualified for:
Chicago Lesbians with Scooters Club

Chicago Ferral Cat Meetup Group
“This week I just TNRed by fifth cat, and I'm always looking for advice and support.” - Group member

The Chicago Ex-Jehovah's Witness Meetup Group
"Friends and non-JW family don't fully understand." - Group Member that gets to the point.

The Chicago Beekeeping Meetup Group

Impressed that someone has enough self-esteem and excitement to start:
Chicago Board Games Meet Up
“Fun! Learn new games! "Be the life of the party!" hahaha ” - Group Member with a wild and off-color sense of humor

Panther's Chicago Geocaching Tours
“I have been GeoCaching since August 2001 an I can't stop." - Group Member.
I think that is a broad yet powerful statement. I picture this man losing his job, leaving his family, living in his car and sleeping with his Garmin tucked under his chin, forever searching for trinkets and granola bars hidden underneath public park bleacheres.

Chicago Rabbit Meetup Group
“Lots of rabbit lovers and spoiled rabbits to talk to and share bunny ideas with!” - Host

The (Chicago) Illinois Jedi Chapter
"Our meetings are for the purpose of training (martial arts, meditation, energy, philosophy, and other topics a Jedi knight needs to understand) and building community." - Host.
Also, please note that since this is the Chicago chapter, there are several other fleets of Illinois Jedi learning "topics a Jedi knight needs to understand." Sigh. Finally, I feel safe.

Chicago Synchronized Swimming Meetup Group
Surprise, the last two members that joined were men.


Wish I had the self-esteem to join:
Chicago Triathletes Unite!

Chicago Design Meetup (Apartment Therapy Offline)
Please tell me what to do with my living room.

Chicago Salsa, bachata, Mambo, Tango Dance Meetup
Please tell me what to do with my hips.


Just kinda scared.
Chicago Happiness Club
"Have you failed to find true, sustainable happiness through acquisitions, the right mate or the right job? We, of This Happy Planet, have found that true happiness comes from within rather than from outside ourselves." - Host (man pictured to the right)


What I actually joined::
Let's Mah-Jong
A group that meets on Sundays to play mah jong. Hello, religious awakening I've been looking for.

Bar Room Book Club
Just discussed Lolita. Really sorry I missed that one---love that book.

What I might have to start:
Logan Square running club for lazy people (no running before 9 a.m. on weekends)

Surprise Saturday.

On Saturdays, Tim takes our vehicle and teaches lessons till 4 p.m. Yesterday, I got up early and went grocery shopping before Tim even left the bedroom. As a special bonus and lover treat, I got him two fresh doughnuts from the bakery at Tony's, which are as light as...light. I think this good deed paid forward.

I spent all day mopping, re-organizing, and cleaning up any trace of our dog fostering experiment, including random piles of cat vomit and actively ignoring the wet spot on the carpet from Pepper, dear Pepper, who left us on Friday for her photo shoot. We really loved having Pepper stay with us, but our cats just weren't happy. And neither was the wet spot on the carpet---I tried to clean it, and it ended up bubbling up when it dried, and I was afraid I had ruined this borrowed area rug that just really tied the room together (heh). It's okay now.

Anyway, after long hours of working with a ripped mop and balls and balls of fuzz, I was eager to leave the house and have an "experience." I was even up for sitting down to enjoy a few hours of live jazz---I KNOW. That's a leap for me. But we were too late on the ball---things that looked interesting had already started for the evening, so we decided to leave the house, buy a bottle of wine, and do something I've wanted to do for a while: record a quick cover song with Tim.

Our favorite liquor store (that sounds worse than it actually is, MOM) didn't have Tim's favorite 20 oz of Fat Tire or my favorite cheap bottle of Chilean wine. So we went to the store down Milwaukee Avene, and decided to stop in at a local bar to have a drink before going back to the apartment.

We walked down California, where this young blond man gave me the stink eye for like, 15 seconds, and decided to walk into this tiny dark bar name Pancho's. We walked past a couple times before we decided to go in, and Tim literally said "there's no white people in there." As in, we're going to STICK OUT.

But I was all "ADVENTURE!" so we headed in. And. It was the BEST PLACE EVER. Here is why.


1. We walked in, and the bartender said "I make a the best mojitos." And you know what? He did. Fresh lime, lots of ground mint, and fresh sugar cane. It makes the mojitos at Juanos taste like kool aid (oooooooh yyeaaaaaaah!)
2. The bartender WAS Pancho, the owner of the bar (open for four years) and the restaurant, operating for 20 years. He's also been married to his wife for 43 years, and they came to America because their son had leukemia. He is healthy now and works for the state of Illinois. We're pretty tight with Pancho now. Tim interpreted about 40% of the conversation for me---he kept slipping back into Spanish. If he would have mentioned milk or forks, I would have totally known what he was talking about. Leche. Tenedor.
3. He immediately called over his good friend, Rey Sanchez, former Cubs player (91-97) that lived on Rush when he lived in Chicago. Rey talked to us for like, 15 minutes and also informed us that he prefers Blue Label Whiskey, which we later saw was about $200 a bottle. Oh, that Rey, he's a high roller!
4. Rey told us that when he played for the Cubs, he would have Poncho bring food down for all the Puerto Rican and Cuban players on the team. Now Pancho serves both ends of the Red Line---Cubs and White Sox players.

5. We asked Pancho and Rey were we should go when we visit Miami next month. They suggested Mango's Cafe, which is a bar apparently where all the go-go dancers wear bikini tops and no pants. Don't worry, men are also encouraged to leave their shirts behind. Hmm.
6. Both men started talking to Tim about music. Pancho said, "hey, you play guitar?" and pulled out a tenor saxophone, mouthpiece on, ready to go, from under the bar. Best move by a bartender, ever.
7. Tim knew all the artists they were talking about, and impressed them by noting that he'd played with Arturo Sandivol and Bob Mintzer.
8. Pancho's best friend walked in, and told us a story about Pancho using a chain saw to cut down a branch outside the restaurant, and then slicing into this knee, but signing himself out of the hospital because he had a catering order for 300 people that day.
9. We also heard a story that involved a patron of the bar, a gun, someones head, and a stroke. But at the end of the story, everyone was okay. We couldn't really follow the story line. If it had involved a library or pencil sharpener, I would have been all over it. Bibliotecca. Sacapuntas!
10. We ended the night talking about how every one in Puerto Rico plays music, and how they only reason you should be playing music is to enjoy it.

When Tim and I left, I skipped down the street. A REAL ADVENTURE! I felt like I had just been at the Puerto Rican Mad Hatter's tea party for grown-ups. We went home and recorded a cover of "Julia." We will post it later. It was such a great day. Sigh.

Good weekend.

Finally! A weekend where we left the house, enjoyed food, theatre, music, and family all within 48 hours.

Friday friend Kaye and I hit the town to see a selection from Eugene O'Neill's Sea Plays. The Goodman is celebrating O'Neill from January through March and hey, did you know? Eugene was one depressed, dark mutha. So, you know, perfect for a long dry winter in Chicago. Longa Viagem de Volta pra Casa (The Long Voyage Home) was presented by Companhia Triptal of Brazil and was entirely in Portuguese, very beautiful. Hurrah for amazingly well-produced theatre (finally).

Saturday...I headed into work at 8:30 AM to prepare for my five day work trip which starts Monday. So I was ready for a long nap in the afternoon, which was promptly followed by a performance of Never Enough Hope, a big band with strings lead by Toby Summerfield, who just happens to be dating my cubicle mate. I saw a smaller and less structured version of this group a couple months ago, and liked the big group with sheet music a lot more. Henseforth, I will dub their sound "chromatic cacophony." It was beautiful.




Sunday morning, Tim and I were treated to pancake breakfast by his family. T brought Tim's youngest sister to Chicago for a Saturday at American Girl, where she received a new doll, Elizabeth, for her birthday. Her friend Anna came along to enjoy the ride, and purchased doll accessories including a finger splint, leg cast, and arm cast. I immediately envisioned a future invite from little Anna: "Come over after school and we can play car accident! You bring the corn syrup, I've got the red dye." I love the meticulous details and additional toys you can buy for American Girl dolls, including a pet llama, a dreidel and silver coins, and most importantly, linens and glassware.

We brunched at the Original Pancake House in Park Ridge. Between six of us, we enjoyed a mysterious and sinful apple pancake:



I think my teeth are going to fall out.

Tomorrow I am heading to New York and then on Wednesday to DC, where I might have time to visit the Smithsonian and SEE JULIA CHILD'S KITCHEN. So. Excited. I've been watching lots of PBS Test Kitchen on weekends, and it makes me want to cook and bake all day long, while taking breaks to taste things like ketchup and canned crushed tomatoes with tiny spoons.

Plans for Thursday...

We're looking for something to do this New Years that isn't a pot luck and doesn't involve having drinks spilled on us by strangers that are more than two years younger than Kaye (23-year-olds). Drinks spilled by 35-year-olds? Perfectly acceptable. All descriptions are simply cut and pasted from the Chicago Reader---which one sounds most promising?


Don’t Dress for Dinner According to Reader reviewer Albert Williams, “French playwright Marc Camoletti’s sex farce offers escapist fun . . . a crack ensemble handles the play’s rapid-fire repartee, racy double entendres, and broad physical comedy with aplomb.” The 10 PM show includes a champagne toast and “other great surprises.” 5 and 10 PM, Royal George Theatre Center, 1641 N. Halsted, 312-988-9000, theroyalgeorgetheatre.com, $49.50-$59.50.

---Looks fun, right? But I don't quite trust the promise of "other great surprises." Surprise! We have no idea what we're doing but we're acting mysterious! Also...even though we'd be seeing a raunchy production, it sounds a bit stuffy. And I want to wear sparkly tights with a feathered headband (thanks liz stine!).

In Fine Spirits: “Black & White Party” This Truman Capote-inspired party features drink specials including the “Black Tie” and “White Lady;” included in the cover charge are party favors, black-and-white food, and a “special surprise” at midnight. 4 PM, In Fine Spirits, 5420 N. Clark, 773-334-9463, infinespirits.com, $20.09 in advance, $25 at the door.

---Sounds great, but the $20 is just a reservation fee. You pay for all drinks, but you can also sign up for a $30 EXTRAVAGANT prex fixe dinner. Cauliflour mousse with caviar...ummmm....yes?


New Year’s Eve Cornstravaganza: Corn Productions combines two and a half hours of sketch, improv, and stand-up comedy with food and an open bar, plus dancing after midnight. The first set starts at 8:45 PM. 8 PM-2 AM, Cornservatory, 4210 N. Lincoln, 773-458-6151, cornservatory.org, $40 per person, $70 couple.

---I must admit. With the promise that this event will be ugly but memorable, this event has me intrigued. Although the idea of improv is only exciting to me around the holidays, the risk of being pulled on stage (cause I'm that cute) is a put off.

New Year’s Eve Zombie Pub Crawl: Dress up in “your favorite zombie costumes and makeup” for this annual Weird Chicago crawl to favorite weird watering holes, complete with zombie games, prizes, and a ride on the Weird Chicago bus. 7 PM, Hard Rock Cafe, 63 W. Ontario, 888-446-7859, weirdchicago.com, $40.

--- Although this group offers more drink stops than you can "shake a severed arm at," it is shockingly already sold out. Bugger.

Rio’s D’Sudamerica: The $20 package gets you two drink tickets, party favors, a champagne toast at midnight, and music by Dino Latino; for $40 you also get a Peruvian dinner and a table. 9 PM-2 AM, Rio’s D’Sudamerica, 2010 W. Armitage, 773-276-0170.

---This may be the winner. Peruvian food? Check. Drinkees and moosack? Check and check. Under $100 for two people. Double triple check checky check.

We so cheap.

Hey! Another friend is coming visit us in Chicago! But surprise, this is ONE of the whole TWO friends that ever visited us in Cincinnati. And what did we treat her to? Delicious pizza and network TV. Oh yeah.

So we gotta step it up. But on the cheap side. Cause for realz...monthly paychecks are a budget suck.

1. Friday night- Dinner at Gloria's Cafe in Logan Square.
As one reviewer stated, "I'm not Columbian, and I don't know any Columbians, so I can't comment on the authenticity of the food, but for a person who loves a cheap and DELICIOUS meal, Gloria's is perfect." What what? 1/4 chicken with rice, beans, and plantains for only $6.50? Done and done.

2. Friday evening- Bowling at the Fireside.
$3.50 per game, $2.00 for shoes. And after one game, we leave! That's right, WE LEAVE. And hit the Wisconsin bar conveniently situated across the street: The Bob Inn. Beers are less than $3. Word.

3. Saturday morning- Breakfast and Cartoons.
Jane and the Dragon + Veggie Tales = perfect Saturday morning for Ruth. Plus half a loaf of white bread and one dozen eggs? Only $5 for four people. And if you sleep in and eat brunch instead of lunch, you can substitute the afternoon meal with an afternoon snack. Boo...yah.

4. Saturday afternoon- Renegade Craft Fair in Wicker Park
The skirt I want is only $70. But walking around is free.

5. Saturday evening- BBQ and Board Games.
Yes, we do this every weekend. But usually we save this little agenda gem for Sunday evenings. We're bringing out the games (possibly Pit, and most definitely Mario Kart Wii) on the 13th. Groceries and liquor: $40 for four people.

6. Sunday morning- Tim makes pancakes.
We already have ingredients for this. Ha. Free zone.

7. Sunday afternoon- Visit to the Logan Square Theatre.
Smuggle in zip lock baggies of Red Vine licorice and cans of diet coke under our cardigans. Your choice of the following flicks: Get Smart, Mummy: Tomb of the stupid things are dead already, Space Chimps, and WALL-E. Per person = $3.

8. Sunday evening: wave goodbye.
Hugs are also free.

Total Cost for four people: $145, not counting el passes or gas money traveling from Madison. Still, fairly decent. Also, I have to squeeze in an 18 mile run somewhere in there. So the real cost for me personally will be about $37 and about two days of whining. Also, sidenote: I think I've been hearing gun shots around here lately. It's hard to tell when there have been multiple fireworks every day since Puerto Rican Independence Day. I just keep squeezing my eyes shut and picturing my Dad doing pistol target shooting on our driveway out on the farm. Did Dad's hand guns sound like that? I think they sounded like that...