Friday, June 26, 2009

Good things Friday

Slow news week, eh? Here’s when I turned off the TV:

“Dame Elizabeth Taylor has released a statement saying she can’t release a statement at this time.”

I can't be the only one who knew Michael Jackson would die early. He was a tortured, unhealthy soul and here's hoping he's finally at peace.

Here’s good things Friday:

Texting Jim about Michael Jackson yesterday:
Jim: “I wonder how he died.”
Me: “Who nose?”

Mudbone, sitting next to me on the train this morning: “I used to bleach myself,” he says. “They used to sell it down South. That bleaching agent was poplar.”

Jim texting me Richard Pryor quotes from Boston all morning (And I’m prayin’ to God I ain’t gotta kiss nothin’.)

The Grandfather from Heidi (Shirley Temple version) sitting next to me on the train last night, talking dirty to his spouse: “You keep feeling better like this, Sweetie, and tomorrow maybe we can make noises.”

This e-mail exchange from early yesterday:

To: Jim, You Know Who, Mrs. You Know Who
From: Hedy

Farrah Fawcett was only two years younger than my mom. There’s a joke in there somewhere.

To: Jim, Mrs. You Know Who, Hedy
From: You Know Who

Unlike Farrah’s, I still have the swimsuit/nipple poster of your mom in my room.

Another fabulous weekend visit with Nelson, Kyra, and Chad.
A fabulous but way-too-quick visit with Susie and her family.
Shopping at the Little Traveler with Suze on a Monday afternoon.
Impromptu post-charm school drinks with Jim, Corb & Debbie at the Caboose bar in Geneva
“Sticky tits”
Realizing that saying yes increases my energy
Swimming at night with Grommie and the stars
A text just now from Kathleen, our recruiting goddess: “You in the office yet? Feel like going to the Cubs/Sox game today?
Going to the Cubs/Sox game on a beautiful Friday afternoon.
I am listening to: Mudbone yapping into his phone
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: Smiley

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Word peeve

Got an e-mail just now from the Business Network Chicago:

"IF you are in transition, here are a couple of good people to follow on Twitter..."

In transition?

What a lovely way of saying out of work and couch-bound with one orange-fingered hand in a bag of Crunchy Cheetos and the other flipping channels between Oprah Winfrey and soft core porn.
I am listening to: Co-workers discussing BBQ stuff
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: Not in transition

Monday, June 22, 2009


Susie and family arrive within the hour, but thought I'd share this amazing 'JesusPhone' story with you (it's a long read, but so worth it):

I have more thoughts on this - thankfully the thief wasn't armed/dangerous/insane - but we'll revisit this topic another day.
I am listening to: Birds chirping from the side yard
I am reading:  Nothing at the moment
And I am:  Looking forward to another hot summer day with good friends from far away

Friday, June 19, 2009

Good things Friday

A great weekend with Nelson
Looking forward to another great weekend with Nelson, Kyra and Chad
Two graduation parties on Saturday
It's not raining right now
Fuck You Tuesday helped me get angry again
Yesterday was my one-year anniversary in the melty chocolate chip job and the team brought in donuts, plus the recruiting director sent me a wonderful e-mail
Chick dinner with Mrs. You Know Who and YKW's sister Wednesday night
Working on a strategic planning project
Eligible for 401k now
A few good leads from the Chicagoland Chamber breakfast yesterday
Ran into my old editor from the Daily Herald at the breakfast - he's got a great gig in PR now
The house is relatively clean
The flowers are growing like mad
Cut the backyard last night
Downloaded the iPhone 3.0 OS upgrade - it's considerably faster, and now I can cut/paste and search
Found out The Turd (remember him?) was fired, and the person who took over (someone I worked with briefly there - long story) wants to meet and talk about my original marketing plan/strategy
I am wearing pants that didn't fit a month ago
I am listening to: Muted office conversations
I am reading: Four Seasons: The Story of a Business Philosophy by Isadore Sharp
And I am: Sorta giggly reading all that old Turd stuff

Wednesday, June 17, 2009


Through an informal and ongoing survey, I have learned that practically everyone I know has shit his or her pants as an adult.

Yes. Everyone.

Except me.

I’m still waiting. This makes me nervous. Extremely nervous.

Because when nearly everyone you know has shit themselves, it’s not good being the odd person out. It’s not normal. It means that I’m overdue.

Hedy, you’re telling us that you actually want to shit your pants?


Seriously. It’s like the first time I dropped my motorcycle.

I was making a left turn from Route 31 onto Mooseheart Road and didn’t accelerate enough so the bike stalled and fell over. I wasn’t hurt – I let it fall and kept standing. But in addition to that rush of OHFUCKWHATNOW adrenaline and a bit of fear about causing an accident at this busy intersection, I actually felt relieved.

“Well, I got that over with,” I remember thinking. “I knew it was going to happen, now it has and I don’t have to worry about it.”

That’s how I feel about shitting my pants. I really just want to get it over with.

I want to be like everyone else.
“Combos,” says one shit-pants friend of mine who shall remain anonymous. “Eat a bag of Combos. That’s what did it for me.”

That would be cheating. You can’t force yourself to shit your pants anymore than you can force yourself to drop a bike or laugh at something that isn’t funny.

It just has to happen. Spontaneously. Uncontrollably. Often publicly.
Best case scenario:

It’s a Friday night out with all of our friends – drinking and eating and laughing and laughing and eating and drinking.

I’m all stuffed and smiley-faced.

Someone I know and love does or says something that is just bust-a-gut hilarious and Voila! I laugh so hard I fill my pants.

That's how it should happen for all of us desperate skid-free folks waiting for the inevitable - in the company of our very own shit-pants support group.
I am listening to: Nothing
I am reading: Yield Software Getting Started Guide
And I am: Anxiously waiting

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Fuck You Tuesday

“The class is changing me in small ways,” I say. “Like this morning the septic alarm went off…normally I’d wake up Jim and make him go downstairs to turn it off but I got out of bed and did it myself.”

“I didn’t even hear it,” says Jim.

“You need a class to learn how to be nice?” asks Nelson.

“Kinda. I guess. Maybe. Fuck you.”

“Well I don’t like it,” says Nelson. “Where’s the bitchy Heather? Since you started taking this class you’re all sunshine and bunnies. And cut the Good Things Friday shit on the blog, would ya please? Nobody cares.”

“Fine. Fuck you.”

He’s right, though. I’ve lost a bit of that Fuck-You-I’m-Heather attitude because of charm school. Probably another reason why I haven’t been writing so much. Lost my edge.
So here goes. It’s Fuck You Tuesday.

Fuck you, Metra for cancelling the 5:49 to Aurora last night and cramming all of us on the 5:44. I stood in a fucking aisle all the way to fucking Lisle with some Asian bitch pushing into me and sweat dripping from my earlobes down to my asshole.

Fuck you, Twitter and Facebook and LinkedIn for distracting people from what’s really important.

Fuck you, charm school for forcing me to think about all of this fucking baggage from childhood. You say we create the lives we have – well looking around, mine isn’t so goddamn bad is it, ya fuckos?

Fuck you, sweater with the bleach stain on it.

Fuck you, people who talk too much.

Fuck you, thorny weeds in our backyard.

Fuck you, birds for shitting all over my deck and patio.

Fuck you, people who walk slow and block the sidewalk.

Fuck you, Rod Blagojevich and your stupid fucking wife for not having a little sense and a little more humility to go away quietly.

Fuck you idiot jealous control-freak women who give the rest of us a bad rap.

Fuck you idiot men for killing your wives rather than divorcing them.

Fuck you, people who aren’t talking to me anymore (you know who you are) – Good Riddance and pass the peanuts.

Fuck you, Apple for making it cost-prohibitive for your best, most loyal customers to get a new iPhone 3Gs. I’ll keep my sorry-ass old iPhone until it’s nothing but a brick before I give you more of my money.

Fuck you, 7 Pounds, with your seriously flawed premise and M. Night Shyamalan wanna-be ending.

Fuck you, Microsoft Update and any software update installer bullshit application.

Fuck you ingrown toenail.

Fuck you, AC/DC, your music sucks.

Fuck you, Rush Limbaugh. And fuck you, George Bush and Dick Cheney.

Fuck you, Colin Powell for not having enough sack to stay in and fight Bush&Co.

Fuck you, one-and-a-half hour commute.

Fuck you, bunnies and fuck you sunshine.

Fuck you, septic system for waking me up early on Saturday and starting this whole fucking mess.
I am listening to: Fuck You by Freddie Fuckstick and the Fuckettes
I am reading: None of your goddamn business
And I am: Angry

Friday, June 12, 2009

Good things Friday

It is a BEAUTIFUL day
Jim is finally done traveling - YAY!
Nelson arrives from Bangkok this afternoon
Judy came over last Friday - a lovely surprise visit
A long, lovely e-mail from DewMama regarding yesterday's post
Laughing with Mom this morning over MyFace - her version of Facebook and MySpace
This African proverb: "Much silence makes a powerful noise"
Date night with Jim in the city yesterday - a mini pub crawl through River North
I'm finally writing again
A wonderful, thoughtful dead-on comment from Crusty on yesterday's post - Thank you!
Learned tons of new stuff this week
An always hilarious visit with Mr. & Mrs. You Know Who Wednesday night
Pilates two weeks in a row - Woo HOOO!
Planning birthday parties for people we love
The French bulldog puppy in the neighborhood by my office
Hi my name is Heather and I'm a cabaholic; it's been four days since my last cab ride
Taking the #66 bus from Ohio to Orleans yesterday
A small possibility of going to Rome with Jim in October
I am listening to: I'm Yours - Jason Mraz
I am reading: Neil at the Sun-Times
And I am: Smiley

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Stranded in the land of average

I’ve always marveled at these rare people who know early on exactly what they want to do with their lives. I know maybe three of them.

One is a teacher. One is a firefighter. And right now I can’t think of the third.

At some point, the rest of us realize that we need to pay the bills so we fall into careers that sorta kinda feel comfortable then we proceed to mill about our lives vaguely dissatisfied – numbing that feeling with things like alcohol or food or TV or whathaveyou.

There are millions of people just like me – stranded in the land of average – waiting to find out what we’ll be when finally we grow up.

Don’t get me wrong, I like my job. But I don’t believe Cuddly Wuddly Christ tapped my little fresh-from-the-womb forehead and said “Hedy, You Will Be A Tech Marketer.”

Does that make sense?

Whoa, Hedy, wait a minute. It sounds to me like you’ve got a pretty fucking awesome life. You’ve got a husband who loves you in spite of your hormonally induced nut-jobbery. You live with the World’s Greatest Dog. You are blessed with family, friends, health, and more than your share of laughter. You want for nothing. It sounds to me like you need to be a little more grateful, Miss Pissy Pants.

Yep. Right.

I’ve got everything except that higher purpose and meaning driving what I do. I could be satisfied but I’m being honest here, admitting I’m not.

So here are the next questions:

1) Is it the job? Or is it that I’m simply not injecting more of myself into it?
2) Is it that I need a new career?
3) What would that look like?
4) Where do I start?
5) What do I LOVE to do?

I’m going to start with that last question because it’s the easiest one to answer. I am a writer. I love telling stories. They don’t have to be my stories – I’m happy to write stories about other people doing great things. I’m pretty goddamn good at it, too.

I also like giving massages. And I’m goddamn good at that, too. Ask Jim and Gromit.

I like traveling and learning about different people and places.

I’m passionate about the news and politics.

And I like helping people. But not in the wipe-yer-ass way. Those folks, bless their twisted little hearts, get a Do Not Pass Go Do Not Collect $100 ticket straight to Heaven.
Here’s where I’m at right now: The mature thing to do is inject every part of myself more fully into my current work with the belief that my Higher Purpose (whatever the hell that is) will come.
Here’s my favorite example of what it means to really put yourself into your job – and if you’re tired of hearing about Portillo’s, I’m sorry, but a lot of profoundly Good and Right things are happening there.

There’s a rather large smiley African American woman working the pick-up counter at Portillo’s at Clark and Ontario in Chicago. When your order is ready, she lets you know by shouting:






You get the idea. She makes it fun. You never know what she’s gonna say but it always makes people smile.

And if you need an extra fork or some mayonnaise or something, she’s all about “What can I get for you, baby?” and “You’re welcome, honey.”

Think about it. She’s handing out fast food to people. It could be categorized as one of the more mundane jobs on the planet. She doesn’t have to make it special or interesting.

But she loves it. She obviously loves people. And because of who she is and her infectious attitude, she makes the whole experience special for everyone.

That’s how I want to be with my job.

It’s powerful. Recognizing that I can make this difference. It's not that my job is changing - but my perception of it is changing.

So even if you're doing a job that you don't really love, you can do it in a way that makes a difference to other people.

Because ultimately it’s not about finding the perfect job or the perfect husband or the perfect anything, it’s about what you put into it that makes it perfect for you.
I am listening to: Breathe Me – Sia
I am reading: Doctoral papers from my coach
I am: It’s 8:09 AND I AM JUST FINE

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

All writey then

So part of the reason I haven’t been writing much is that I’m learning a lot.

This class – Jim calls it charm school – is consuming me. It is forcing me to look at what I do, why I do it, and how I feel.

That last one is tough for me. How I feel.

Remember that one bathtub scene in Pretty Woman? Not where Julia Roberts does a naked soapy impression of Prince. The other one – when Richard Gere explains how he was “very ANGRY” with his father and that years of therapy helped him say that without freaking himself right out the door.

Well I’m not angry with my father. But I am learning tons of really cool stuff about why I am the way I am and why I do some of the bat-shit crazy stuff I do.

Example, Hedy?

Here’s a big one. Get ready.

For most of my adult life I’ve been utterly convinced that something really horrible will happen and my life will come crashing down around me, and that it will be ALL MY FAULT.

It’s called catastrophic thinking.

It’s the idea that if things are going particularly well then I’m over due for something truly awful to happen.

The reality is, bad shit happens all the time.

But fantasizing about it – and no, I’m sorry to report that all my fantasies don’t involve a big fat Russell Crowe-Craig Ferguson sandwich – is NOT healthy. Some of us have negative fantasies all the time. Some people even act on them.

Anyhow. I’m learning that catastrophic thinking is not healthy; that living in fear that your life could come crashing down around you at any moment is not good.

Can you see how thinking that way all or even part of the time would have an impact on how I view the world and my role in it? It has given a decidedly temporary and unsettled feeling to any major endeavor of mine. Which might explain all of that career related turmoil from before.

So I’m learning how to change my patterns of thinking. Here's the really cool thing: changing the way I think is also changing the way I behave.
Remember the phrase ‘not so much’? It was the trendy thing to say about a year ago.

Here’s the most recent language trend I’m noticing: Beginning sentences with ‘So’.

Here’s how it goes. Ask someone a question like “How will you prepare dinner tonight?”

The trendy word hipster will say “So I want to make a salad, right? So I plan on cutting up the lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, and olives first.”


So let me know if you’re noticing it.
You want another big learn from my class?

Shit I don’t even know where to start on this one.

How we perceive God (especially from childhood) has an impact on how we perceive the world.

If you grew up with a punishing, vengeful God who gets off on getting all smotey on sinful six-year-olds, you’re probably going to have a different perspective on society than if you grew up with a benevolent, forgiving God who loves you know matter what you do.

It’s Old Testament vs. New Testament for you Bible freaks.

The concepts are abundance versus scarcity. Faith versus fear. Love and acceptance versus hatred and punishment.

How do you view the world?

Is it an abundant, loving place? Or is life scary and scarce?

Here’s where I’m at:

I grew up in a house where love was abundant. Hopefully you know by now that my Mom and Dad rocked the whole parenting thing and that my childhood was filled with lots of love and play. My brother Eric and I knew pretty much every day of our lives that we were loved and that we mattered.

However, I grew up with a God who was scary and vengeful. He did not love me no matter what. He loved me ONLY if I followed his impossible rules ALL THE TIME.

Here’s little 6-year-old Hedy: “Don’t lie? What the fuck? Are you kidding me?”

Kids lie. It’s part of growing up. It’s part of how we assert ourselves into adulthood.

Christ got that. He knew that people make mistakes. Sometimes really big ones.

But we’re all worthy of love and forgiveness. ALL THE TIME.

From this class, I'm realizing that what I learned about God and religion as a child contradicted the loving way my parents lived with us kids every day.
Here's an example of how I might apply what I'm learning to the Wife Rage situation from yesterday:

Me: So why do you get so angry when you can't reach your husband on the phone?
Mrs. Lecter: Because I'm afraid he's cheating on me.
Me: Why?
Mrs. Lecter: Because I'm afraid he will leave me for someone else.
Me: Why?
Mrs. Lecter: Because I don't feel good about myself and he might find someone he likes better.
Me: Why don't you feel good about yourself?
Mrs. Lecter: Because I'm not as young-thin-fun-sexy-whatever as I used to be.
Me: So the problem isn't so much with your husband as with you, right?
Mrs. Lecter: Fuck you.
Me: No, really. You're angry with your husband because he doesn't answer the phone but you're really angry and afraid because of how you feel about yourself. It really has nothing to do with his behavior, and everything to do with yours. Right?
Mrs. Lecter: Maybe. But fuck you anyway.

It's a process. See? The light bulbs don't always spark immediately but it's the talking/thinking part that matters.
Anyhow. Sorry to get all preachy.

Some of you probably don’t want to think about this stuff. Hell, half the time I don’t want to think about it. It’s exhausting. But it’s worth it.

I’m changing in small ways. People I love are noticing it. And that’s pretty cool.
I am listening to: Quiet office sounds
I am reading: Neil Steinberg at the Sun-Times
And I am: Working on it

Tuesday, June 09, 2009

Taxicab confession

I have a problem.

No shit, Hedy.

Right. Fine. I have many problems.

But to be a little more specific, my current Major Problem involves cabs. Yes, cabs.

I am addicted to taxicabs.

It’s coming up on a year that I’ve been at the Wondrous Melty Chocolate Chip Job in the Egregiously Far and Inconvenient River North neighborhood of Chicago. And while I'm still rockin' the aforementioned cookie sheet, anything I found remotely interesting or convenient about public transportation is gone-daddy-gone.

So I’ve been sneaking cab rides. Lots of cab rides.

It goes something like this:

“I really need to get to the office-home-doctor-lunch-seminar-dinner-store-dry cleaner so I’ll just grab a cab. It’s faster.”
“You’re taking cabs?” asks Jim. “That’s where all your money is going? I thought you had a crack habit.”

“Crack is probably cheaper. And think of how much fun I’d be if I lost all my teeth.”
Here’s the upside to this unsavory addiction: I have tons of cab driver stories. I meet guys – they’re all guys – from all over. Mostly from Pakistan for some reason. But also Nigeria. Afghanistan. Turkey. Syria. And one remarkably bad driver from China.


Last night I got a dead ringer for Hannibal Lecter. I never caught his country of origin and here’s why:

Do do do di do
Do do do da do

Do do do di do
Do do do da do

Shortly after climbing in and saying my standard “HihowareyouUnionStationplease” his phone starts ringing.

Do do do di do
Do do do da do

Do do do di do
Do do do da do

And ringing.

Do do do di do
Do do do da do

Do do do di do
Do do do da do

And ringing.

Not irritating. Just a sing-songy sort of soft ring floating back from the depths of the front seat.

After about the fourth call, I say “Somebody really needs you.”

“This is Secretary of Interior,” says Hannibal, glancing back in the mirror. “You know who this is?”

“Your wife?”

“Yes, she thinks I am with someone else when I don’t answer,” he explained. “She doesn’t like it.”

Call me twisted but I look straight into his bright blue Hannibal-esque eyes and say: “Well, you are with someone else right now, aren’t you?”

Which earns me a great big belly laugh and this: “Next time she call, how about you pick up? Okay? We see what happens.”

Then we both giggle maniacally like serial killers on crack.

This poor guy gets at least 20 calls in between my office and the train station. The phone rings the entire trip. We feel what could only be described as Wife Rage oozing from his phone.

“Why don’t you just pick it up?” I ask. “It’s okay.”

“No, it is my policy,” he explains. “I do not talk on my phone when I am working. When I am driving. My wife, she knows this.”
But Hedy, what if it was a wife-related emergency?


What if?

I'd believe that IF he hadn't said the thing about how “She thinks I am with someone else when I don’t answer” and “She doesn’t like it.”

If by some dark miracle it actually was an emergency, this bitch has been calling wolf for so long the poor guy wouldn't believe it anyhow.
By the end of the ride, I really really really want to pick up that phone.

Here’s what I want to say:

“Honey, I’ve been there. I’ve been you. Desperately dialing my guy and getting No Answer until poor little Hedy is ready to go kersplody all over the phone. It’s time. Time to let it go. He’s cute. But he’s not cheating on you. He loves you. You’re the one he comes home to every night. You are the best thing that ever happened to him. Start acting like it. You may not be the one he thinks about every time he jacks off in the shower, but if you’re keeping him happy in the sack he won’t be doing that so much. Sure, he had some fun before he met you. That's a good thing. All that fun helped him figure out what he likes and he likes YOU. If you don’t trust him by now you really need to look at yourself for the reason why because he’s never given you a really good reason to doubt him. Fine, you may not trust other women, but you can definitely trust him. TRUST HIM. He’s working. He’s fixing a furnace. He’s in a meeting with a client. Or he’s driving some cab-addicted chubby chick to the train station. But he’s thinking about you the whole time and wishing you’d just chill the fuck out and let him do his job. His job is important. Not as important as you and the kids, but it’s important. So take a deep breath, put the phone down and let him do it. Thank you.

By the way your husband is really hot. MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Okay maybe not that last part. But you get it.

Meanwhile, back at Hannibal’s phone. Still ringing.

We arrive. I've got my cab ride fix, so I stop twitching and pay.

“Thankyouverymuchhaveagreatnight,” I say.

“Okay, we gonna fight now. Bye.”

Seriously. If I’m Hannibal Lecter’s wife, I’m not calling him with Wife Rage while he’s working.

Because my sorry ass just might end up on a plate with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.
I am listening to: Do do do di do
I am reading: A proposal for
And I am: Finally feeling all writey again

Monday, June 08, 2009

I work here

"Did you order the large fries?"

"No, you did."

"No I didn't. I had the regular."

That's me and Jim the IT Guy, sorting out our weekly lunch at Portillo's last Friday when an older, dark-haired man sitting at the next table stands up and interrupts:

"Excuse me, I work here, did we miss something from your order?"

"No thanks," we explain. "We're just arguing over who ordered the large."

Amazing. He works there.


Turns out, the guy who said "I work here" is Dick Portillo, the founder of Portillo's restaurants - a veritable institution here in Chicagoland.

Of course it's fast food. But it's the tastiest, freshest and FASTEST fast food on the planet.

Sure, they're known for overly verbose table signage.

But visit their drive-thru at noon on any Saturday and you'll witness a highly efficient, borderline militaristic operation designed to move move move hungry customers through as quickly as possible. It's a wonder.

It's coming up on 20 years that I've been living in Illinois.

I had my first Portillo's Chicago-style hot dog ("What the hell? I didn't order a salad, I ordered a hot dog!") about two weeks after moving here.

I've NEVER been disappointed by the food or the service. Never.

Anyhow. Now I understand why Portillo's does what they do.

It's all because of the guy who works there.
I am listening to: Divine Design with Candice Olsen
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: Sorta back

Friday, June 05, 2009

Good Things Friday

It’s sunny
Got up early enough this morning to water and dead-head some flowers
Jim cracking me up via text messages from Berlin
Mowed the lawn last night and somehow managed to avoid hitting any Grommie bombs even though I was lazy and didn’t pick up beforehand
House is clean
There’s lovely, fresh brown mulch everywhere and no weeds anywhere thanks to Antonio & crew
Got all the pots and planters planted last weekend
Didn’t gain any weight this week (I didn’t lose, either, but what the hell)
Wearing my favorite comfy jacket from Eddie Bauer
Scored a regular forward-facing blue seat on the 7:22 this morning (the blue ones are more comfortable than the brown ones, FYI)
Had a liver sausage sammich for dinner last night
Our creative director introduced me to Cooliris, a photo/video browsing plugin for Firefox
Business really seems to be picking up for us and our vendors/partners
An unexpected lunch with my boss on Monday
The movie Traitor – great story starring Don Cheadle
Wearing my favorite necklace today from my dear friend Judy
Went to a Pilates mat class with a co-worker on Tuesday – now we’re going every week
Having a sore ass from Pilates
Seeing my orthopedic surgeon unexpectedly on Wednesday and having him tell me the strength in my ACL is exceptionally good
The word ‘noogie’
Singing the Happy Anniversary song to my parents yesterday. Twice.
Giggling with Mom over the thought of my brother Eric getting into a bar brawl with a priest from St. Peter’s.
He didn’t, FYI. But I kinda wish he had.
Mid-week walkies with Grommie on Tuesday and Wednesday
Nelson is here one week from today
Which means I get to have a chocolate cake shake from Portillo’s (I have one once a year when Nelson is here)
Two weeks from today, Nelson AND Kyra are here for what's become a lovely tradition and one of my all-time favorite summer weekends
Susie & family visiting for one precious day - June 22 - YAY!
Another neighborhood graduation party tomorrow
Knowing that ‘DELAYED’ means ‘APPROACHING’ on the CTA bus tracker thingie
Breathing in the wonderful-smelling salt and pepper-haired gentleman in a summer suit and white Converse sitting in front of me on the bus
Getting off a stop early to walk a little in the glorious sunshine
Taking the stairs rather than the elevator to our third floor office
Singing along with Tracy Chapman and thinking of Mom
I am listening to: Sing for You – Tracy Chapman
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: Still not writing but okay