Chicago without the kids

I asked a couple walking by to take our picture to prove that I was there-sometimes it's not obvious

When all else fails for a topic to flesh out a blog post, I can always go to the vault of near disastrous wipeouts.  Perhaps one could refer to the post last year where I almost wrapped myself around a pole while biking and carrying a coffee table.

I love the yin and yang of life that provides the extremes of experiences to keep one's ego in check.  A life full of travel and cultural experiences and advanced education tempered by experiences such as the not uncommon one today where I nearly flew backwards off the treadmill at five miles per hour completely to my surprise and the guy next to me's surprise seeing how close he came to being sideswiped and taken down as well...oh God, and the people behind me...thankfully I couldn't see their faces because I really don't want to know what it looked like from behind as I drifted left before crashing into the side of the treadmill.

And it's all Ellen Degeneres' fault as you can imagine.  Closed captioning is not a difficult task for me under most circumstances.  I do read as quickly as the next person, but it's a little tricky I came to find out today trying to read Ellen's rambling monologue at the start of her show.  In my struggle to stay with the shaggy dog story she was telling about rearranging her furniture, I had drifted slowly left and lost my place on the mat and faltered.  With a clank and a clunk and a yelp, I just barely managed to stay upright.   Eyes forward henceforth, that was the end of the Ellen show for me today.

Good Friday across a church pew

Architecture cruise

Just a few days ago, Chip and I took a quick trip to Chicago sin las bambinas (bad Spanish is my new thing I'm doing since I'm the only one in the family that doesn't know it and it really irritates the kids).   It is the first time we've left them alone to face all of my chores in addition to staying overnight alone.  A few friends made queries as to the time that the Hunter kegger might start.

Chip and I did live in that world a little bit when we were kids, but between strict athletic codes and the prying eyes of an overly social, inquiring and chatty neighborhood full of adults all up in your business, it truly wasn't and isn't a worry...this time anyway.  At least I think the vodka bottle is still full of vodka.  Maybe I should check that...

I'm moving here when I get my personal injury settlement money from Hupy and Abraham

So many happy families at the Art Institute during spring break and it just reminded me of the love and strength I draw from my own merry little band.  And the beauty of this trip was that whenever anyone started to cry or whine I could just walk away, so that was awesome.

Such commonly known and embraced images in American culture being enjoyed on so many different levels for so many different people.

Little girl whose mom had just told her she looked like the girl in the painting...which she did!

Two brothers sit patiently while their parents are nowhere to be found

A mom and her daughter share the audio

A grandmom and her granddaughter discuss Vincent's depressingly short life 

Sisters in agony while dad tries to take their picture.  

A painting in every mother's top ten I would imagine.  Certainly in mine.

A Chicago hot dog or as Chip calls it, a hotdog with salad

So, just some pictures to remind you and myself and my doll of a husband that Chicago is one of the best cities for adult entertainment.  Oh yeah baby...a museum, an architecture river cruise, a hip and trendy vegetarian restaurant, a bike ride along the lakeshore and a trip to Crate and Barrel.  My girls could not have been more delighted to stay home.

Green Zebra restaurant in Westtown.  When in Chicago you should go.

The Allerton, old school and central and recently renovated

Night before the iPad launch...the store was abuzz

Aqua, Lakeshore East, designed by female architect Jeanne Gang, her first skyscraper 

For the last time, Oprah does not live here.

Goodbye is the hardest word.

The last day. The drama. Handholding, hugs and a general malaise similar to a hangover. They even took exception to the goose who was "harassing them".


Saying goodbye isn't easy. Meanwhile, we mingle with others saying goodbye to their middle and high schools. Promwear strolls along Navy Pier. It's so bittersweet, all of it. I feel the connection between these girls and all the other kids along the pier and I am so fulfilled to be a witness to it. Facebook is, if nothing, a testament to the connections made at this time in one's life and the lifelong bonds that are formed. Why else does one register with one's high school after all? There's no denying the power, good or bad, in the relationships of youth.



Some attempts at humor along the walk, having a chat with Bob Newhart, whom none of them have ever heard of nor cared to know more about.



Goodbye for now, sweet English girls. The gate agent leans in close to me and with her hand pointed in a takeoff position says, "You cannot leave until they are.....airborne." It's an ominous exchange more for her than me, as she does not want to be stuck with two fourteen year old girls for a last minute six hour delay. However, all goes smoothly and they depart ontime.



I ask Ally in the airport, "Are you sad?" She replies, "Not really. I was sadder in England because I wasn't sure I would ever see them again. Now I know we're going to see each other again." Youth is not wasted on the young afterall.

Public art

It occurred to me this trip that public art is such a natural part of city life. I think it might be the kind of thing that when you don't see it you don't think about it, but when you see it and experience it, you realize what a gift it is and how much you take it for granted. I even appreciated the rather intestinal coppery blobby effort by the Cheesecake Factory. Sitting inside, however, is a little disconcerting as the theme is consistent and you do feel as if you are having dinner within someone's gut.




Today was about toting bags, managing finances of fourteen year olds and shopping in stores that don't carry my size. I mostly used my travel time to experience what the streets of Chicago have to offer. No admission fees and really interesting installations. Even the Tribune Building walls offer literal pieces of history from all over the world.





It was a chilly day, but I insisted we use some of their parents' money for cultural enrichment. They groaned and exchanged looks with one another, but took their medicine like good girls and forked over their precious dollars for an architectural river and lake tour. One less t-shirt they could buy, but I think maybe they won't regret it in the long run.



Chip and I ducked out for one drink in the Signature Lounge of the Hancock Building while the girls started their scrapbooks, counted their loot and took a rest. If you know me at all, then you can guess I believe firmly that if you are going to pay an admission price for a view, it had better include a drink in my hand to go with said view.




The precious cargo flies home Friday. What will I do with myself when they are gone?

Chicago

I guess travel is my muse because even though I'm not the traveler, it's still been an exhilirating week. The English girls have blown in such fresh air to our musty collective state of minds that it will hopefully sustain us through the last few weeks of school and my second job interview via the phone. I still don't get it, but I've decided to pretend that my mind is young and nimble and go with the flow. The job I've applied for would be especially good for me and I for it.

So, our last day in Madison, the English girls went to the 8th grade for a day. That was quite enough for them. The experience almost took their sparkle away, so I was glad to load them in the minivan and head south for the windy city. When a Madison public school teacher says to you, "I knew you must not be from here because you aren't dressed normal.", it's time to run away.

A few days in Chicago before these sweet things leave us. I can imagine that next week will feel pretty lonely for me and for Ally.