TomKat

Last night it looks like Tom, Katie and Suri were in town with Oprah - this photo was taken at Lake Pointe Towers by Navy Pier in Chicago. Maybe they were staying there instead of a hotel for some privacy? I watched the first half of his interview today and thought that he seemed genuine (aside from the Scientology thing which I find to be creepy, but to each his own). Truly, who can imagine what it would be like to be hunted by paparazzi every day?! I would buy a sonogram machine too if I were him - he says he was just trying to keep things private, that they had a doctor come to them instead of going to a hospital every time. I hope he and Katie are as happy as they seem to be, she's always seemed normal to me, not to mention she's from Ohio and apparently loves all things sugary!

caution

This morning I almost got hit by a car - me and a red-haired guy on a bike, both of whom were minding our own business. I was here, heading north on LaSalle Street, on my way to the lakefront, at about 8:30 am. As I was crossing the street, there was a white car in the curb lane heading south toward me - and he was in a hurry. As in he suddenly decided he needed to make the light, I guess, b/c he gunned it just as he started to get close to me. Once he was whizzing right past me, I heard brakes squealing and put my hands over my ears, waiting for a crash. When I got to the curb on the other side I felt shaky and sick - I turned around to see the car on the opposite curb, stopped, sideways, and a red-haired biker shaking his head, unharmed. Thank god.

It reminded me of something I heard not long ago - a friend who works in the medical field told me that there's some crazy stat about the number of car accidents and deaths that are caused by people trying to speed through yellow lights. The doctor he worked for always used to tell everyone that "Yellow means caution - slow down!" Most people take yellow to mean "hurry the f up if you don't want to be late" - I've certainly been guilty of it. No more - from now on, I'm going to try my best to stop at yellow lights. That should really piss off everyone driving around me in Chicago traffic. C'est la vie.

lakefront

This is my salvation in the warmer months of Chicago. Every morning that it's above 50 degrees and not raining, this is where you'll find me. I always head east to the lake front to Oak Street Beach first, jogging along Oak Street and observing all of the self-important people ambling up the street in the morning. Usually it's a mix of wealthy socialite types with beaucoup de plastique and oversized sunglasses, a few homeless beggars shuffling along, some banker looking douchebags with pleated pants and then a few of my favorites, the dandies. The dandies are the gays over 50, with their slicked back hair, bow ties and tanned skin, pocket squares.  Total throwback to another era, think Palm Beach chic or Dominick Dunne. I breeze by them all anonymously, happily, on my way to the beach.

Oak Street Beach is where I got engaged five years ago, in a summery flowy skirt in the sand in front of the Drake. It was perfect. For me, that beach always is. When I run I usually head south along the lakefront down to Navy Pier, sometimes out into Olive Park if I have time. I like to turn off my music but leave my headphones on, so that I can be alone and enjoy the lapping of the water on the rocks. Water as far as the eye can see to the east, and some of the greatest architecture ever to the west, the curve of Lake Shore Drive with Mies van der Rohe's genius dotting the drive. On a clear day I just sometimes stop to drink it all in, take a deep breath and try to be in the moment and remember the feeling. At the end of my journey is Ohio Street Beach, (hmmm) where Japanese tourists with cameras usually flock to take photos. Later in the season the swimmers are also here, plunging into the water in their wetsuits even in July.

Because the path south is mostly concrete for runners, I've been trying to head north as well where the path is blacktop, easier on the joints, I'm told. North Avenue Beach is a wide, expansive beach, it's easy to convince yourself you're in California when you're there. The ship that anchors it is so kitsch, with a bar up top where all of the Lincoln Park Trixies converge on summer weekends to try to meet Mr. Right. I love to run all the way out to the end of the pier here in the mornings during the week, when it's empty. You feel like you're running out to sea, with the 10 ft wide pier beneath you headed straight east across Lake Michigan, a bit of sand beach on one side, but mostly just choppy sea as far as the eye can see. The wind whips you and pushes you, takes your breath away and tries to defeat you, but you keep going. Coming back it's a mesmerizing view of the city, the Drake nestled at the curve and the weathiest enclave around, East Lake Shore Drive, stretching out past it.

Chicago with the lake, the wind, the sand and the wanna-be glamour in the summertime is my favorite. It *almost* makes winter here survivable. Almost.

a toast

we have to move. I can't take it anymore, living in this teeny tiny space. it's unbearable. but it's more than that - I am ready for my life to change. I want to have room to do art projects, build furniture, spray paint home items. I want to have a patio with real outdoor furniture and maybe a small patch to garden.

I want to have mobility. Like today, I washed my favorite (read only) everyday bra and somehow the washer managed to un-bend the hook at the back, rendering it un-fastenable. I need to go buy a new one. A simple chore, really. But not here - how to pull it off? I can't drive to a department store b/c there's no where to park once I arrive; unless I want to pay $25 to park in a garage; waste of money. I could take a cab, but there and back would be around $15-20; again, waste of money. I could walk but it's freezing and raining and would take too long anyway. There's no el that's convenient. Thus, a simple chore becomes a epic task that involves much planning. I may ask P to drive me and drop me off, that way the cab home is the only cost. But really, why does it have to be so hard?

The stupid part is that we already know the answer; it's almost a given that we're leaving the city and moving to P's hometown. There, I said it. But he keeps hesitating and postponing and stalling on a decision. Let's get it over with already. A toast to forward motion.

epiphany

I am too old for thisIt happened at a St. Patrick's Day party. It was like so many parties I'd gone to before, mid-afternoon, by Wrigley Field, organized by a college friend, $40 for all you could drink in three hours. In theory, this one should have been especially fun since it was in celebration of St. Patty's Day and I love to celebrate being Irish.

In reality, it was terrible. I should have stayed home and balanced my checkbook. My first clue was on the way up Clark St., in a cab, where at 1 o'clock in the afternoon there were already so many hoardes of drunk girls decked out in slutty green gear that traffic wasn't moving. Now, don't get me wrong - 7 or 8 years ago, I was one of those girls, and it was great fun. But now, a few weeks away from my 34th birthday, I am so. over. it.

Everyone at this party was just boring to me. No one had anything interesting to say or talk about; I guess those are the kind of people that are still showing up for these kinds of parties now that we're over 10 years out of college. All anyone wanted to talk about was March Madness and Irish car bombs. When one of my guy friends from college asked me why I didn't go out anymore, I laughed. I do, I told him, I just don't make it a point to hang out at Irish pubs in Lakeview any longer. I work on weekends. I like to drink wine, not Miller Lite. I prefer a nice dinner over bar food. I like to work out in the mornings. In response he rolled his eyes and said, Whatever, you're lame now, you just stay home and read books, apparently.

Staying home and reading a book would have been far preferable! I would have saved money, calories, brain cells and felt better the next day. God. Why did it take me so long to get here? I don't know, but now that I'm here, I've arrived in a big way. I am so over this continuation of college a.k.a life in Chicago yuppie-style. Someone put me out of my misery. I think it's time for me to do something more with my life, stat.