That was fun!

M and I just drove back from Kentucky, where we spent the Christmas holiday with my extended family. It consisted of:

Lots of cookie decorating..

Yes, that's a 3 cookies on top of each other. Guess who made that one...

Lots of presents...

And you can't even see all the gift cards

Lots of people (this is table one of two)...

It IS Kentucky, after all...we're all related!

Lots of eating...

The world-famous chocolate chip cookies

And lots of funny pictures of M.

Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year to you and yours!

There were probably unicorns, too

First of all, I want to confess that I've been a little slow on my blogging lately. Mostly because work has been really busy with our Christmas Store (huge success!) and because by the time I get home I'm exhausted and don't want to look at a computer. So, there you go. But now, I've returned!

This weekend, M and I flew to Atlanta for approximately 30 hours to go to my cousin Patrick's wedding. We really, really enjoyed ourselves and it was great spending time with family. Granted we'll see them again in two days but, whatever. Best part, besides the actual wedding during which I cried like a baby (this is nothing new), was sitting in our hotel room with my sister and her husband, cousin and soon-to-be cousin in law drinking champagne out of plastic cups. Our family is from Kentucky, after all.

On the plane ride home, we floated, err, flew above a big storm. You know, like when you look down and it's just a blanket of white below you? You take off and it's gray and gross and then you get above the clouds and...well...it's just magical.

SO magical, in fact, that Mason and I saw BOTH ENDS OF A RAINBOW. It was actually a rainbow circle.

Can you see it? And no, it wasn't the reflection or anything. It was a big rainbow circle!!! And don't we win some pots of gold or something for this? Because I can send you my address, Mr. Rainbow. Although since you're magical, you probably already know it. (Just don't send chocolate gold coins, because we're trying to cut back on our chocolate intake. Thanks. Love ya!)

2,520 hours later...

In case you're too lazy to do the math, that's the number of hours that we've now lived in Chicago. And despite some very, very long days in the beginning (anyone remember that I worked for a bakery?) the days have flown by. M is done with his first semester and- after a crazy week this week- I'll be able to rest and relax a little next week and into the New Year!

To celebrate this 2,520 mark, I've put together some of the funny (and horrible) things that have happened to us since our arrival.

• It took three men an hour and a half to figure out how to get our couch up our very narrow staircase.
• I worked at a bakery for a week and was then cussed out in French when I quit for a job that paid a lot more.
• I worked at the University of Chicago law school for two weeks, where people thought I was related to the "Laird" part of the "Laird Bell Quadrangle" at the law school. I sort of let them believe it. But we might be!
• I cried every night for the first two weeks that we lived here.
• I somehow landed the most amazing, rewarding and fulfilling job I could have ever imagined.
• I bought a champagne stopper that has changed my life.
• We traveled to Georgia twice to attend weddings.
• M saw Oprah.
• M went on a fun Chicago scavenger hunt while I worked.
• We went Mac.
• The Gators lost to Alabama. Gross.
• We realized that most people outside the Beltway don't think every day about policy or politics.
• I learned how to use Skype.
• I was greeted nearly every day by a butt-dancing, whistling crossing guard.
• The car battery died.
• We went to Iowa. Almost as exciting as the car battery.
• 40 degrees now feels like spring.
• The car slid on ice when I was driving and I got really scared.
• We successfully hosted Thanksgiving.
• We're still here.

Nothing too earth-shattering, but quite a few of these are accomplishments that I think we can be proud of, or at least are things that we can now look back on and laugh or say, "Remember when..?" These three and a half months have literally flown by. And while I probably miss friends back in DC now more than ever, we're being provided for and learning to make our way in the Second City. That's all we can ask for. Oh, and a little warmer weather.

Nope, it's Christmas

Ok. So my last post WAS titled "It's Practically Summer." But I was using hyperbole. Or a parabola? Or a hypoallergenic? Whatever. Y'all are smart. And whatever you may have been led to believe by my previous post, it is COLD. BUTT COLD if I might be so bold.

But then, it's supposed to be cold at Christmas, right? Because who can go to German Christmas Markets (Christkindlmarket) and pay ridiculous amounts of money for a Christmas ornament (I just accidentally typed organ. Ha!) when it's not cold outside? And you can't drink mulled wine from an adorable green boot cup thingy at said market if it's not cold, right?

(Yes, that's really what the market looks like. Little red and white tents. But they didn't draw in the thousands of people who were there, too.)

And snow is quite purty. Oh, gray sky, how gorgeous you are. Really. Isn't everyone's favorite...color...gray? Hmm.

Ok, but from the INSIDE of my house, the snow looks pretty! Look at how it lays so perfectly on the branches. I feel like I should be singing Christmas Carols and drinking eggnog as I look at this picture. Ahhh, the holidays.

But just one word of advice. If you're going to live where it snows, you really should invest in snow boots. Really. Trust me. Because otherwise you're stuck like this poor girl.

I mean what kind of idiot would not have snow boots and live in Chicago? And then be stupid enough to think that tights and pants, with flat slide on shoes would keep her from falling on her butt in the snow/ice AND keep her warm. Certainly not ME. You know me better than that.

(By the way, I wear a 9 1/2).

It's Practically Summer

Have I told y'all about Hyde Park Produce? Oh, right, yes. Just every other post. But in case you don't remember, it's one of the best produce stores ever!! EVER!! As long as you don't buy the expensive organic other stuff (who needs organic flaxseed boxed macaroni and cheese? Apparently lots of people in Hyde Park). For that we go to the hell hole that is Village Foods. But I digress.

Last week I went into HPP to get a few vegetables for the week. (By the way, I have successfully fed M and myself on broccoli, canned tomatoes, rice, zucchini, squash, a frozen chicken breast and peppers pretty much this whole week.) Anyway. When I walked in on Wednesday, my heart stopped for a second.

Wait.

Is that?

A PINT OF STRAWBERRIES FOR $1.99!!!!!!!

YESSSSS!

Not only were they cheaper than I have EVER seen them, they also tasted so amazingly great. Sure, there was something deep, deep down inside of me that thought, "Hmm. I don't think these are in season and I'm supposed to care about that" but that thought was quickly replaced with, "Mmmmmm."

Sometimes a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. Now I'll watch the snow fall as I munch on my summer treats.

It's Beginning to Look a lot Like Finals

Remember those things, those "tests," we had to take at the end of the semester in college? Apparently they exist in Masters programs, too. Shocking, right? And apparently they're a lot harder than writing some BS paper about the impact of blah blah blah on blah blah blah. Not that I EVER BSed my way through a paper in college. Ever.

M is in full finals mode, studying until well after midnight in one of the Harry Potter-esque libraries (my brother-in-law coined that term) on campus. I don't really understand what he's studying, so I'm not much help, especially since everything is extremely quantitative and I haven't taken math since, oh, high school. Not an exaggeration. I'm more of a words gal, myself.

In one short phrase, M is working his arse off. And I, in my sappy, newlywed state, am so proud of him. He gets things I can't even begin to understand. He can explain to you the intricacies of game theory (have him explain what that even is) and can tell you more than you probably want to know about statistics and running regressions. It's so amazing for me to hear him talk about how the things he's learning are an integral part of good policy making and how he believes now, more than ever, that this is what he's supposed to be doing. We're just praying an employer thinks that too. Dear God, please.

But for now, all we need to do is get to December 11th, when this semester- and all the finals- are over. It's beginning to look a lot like the end of a semester. Thank God.

Pretty Much I'm Martha Stewart

Minus that whole insider trading and jail piece.

My in-laws came to town this week for Thanksgiving...and can I just say: we got the job done! The whole event was spectacular, if I do say so myself. The food was great, the turkey was perfect, the homemade rolls were just right (A, my sister-in-law, made them) and the pies were to die for. This was the menu: turkey. obviously. broccoli cheese casserole. mashed potatoes. cornbread stuffing. rolls. sweet potato casserole. home-cooked green beans (despite M's pleas to have canned ones. Ugh.) pumpkin pie. Kentucky bourbon pie. cranberry sauce. Massive amounts of moaning and patting of stomachs. red wine. white wine. water. more red wine.

Since you could't all be here (really, we meant to invite you...really...) I've included some of the best shots below. Look at how well that table is set with our so-fantastic Kate Spade china! And crystal! And I even had little leaves to sprinkle on the golden tablecloth! Watch out Martha...Liz Laird ain't playin.

These People Cannot Drive

I hate to make such sweeping statements, but...

1. Drivers in Chicago do not move if they even HEAR a siren somewhere off in the distance. "Wait, is that a siren? I'm going to stop in the middle of the road so the girl with the DC tags has to swerve to miss me!"

2. Lanes do not matter here. Admittedly, some of the lanes are quite narrow on Lakeshore and on Congress Parkway. However, this does not mean that you can be halfway in my lane. I will honk at you.

3. Yellow light means stop. For the rest of the world, red means stop. Oh no, not here in Chi-town. YELLOW means stop. Sometimes green means don't go, too.

4. It doesn't matter if you're going into or out of the city during morning or evening rush hour. You will sit in traffic. Period.

5. Rubbernecking is a city-wide sport. Even when it's just looking at a construction site.

Don't get me wrong. DC drivers (or, rather, Maryland drivers) are pretty horrible. But Chicago? Well, there's something special about Chicago.

The Cupboards are Bare

Last night M and I literally came to the very end of our cupboards. We had flour, sugar, butter and egg, two cans of tuna and four pieces of white bread. What's a couple to do? Make poundcake and tuna sandwiches of course! (Sidenote: I was supposed to go to the grocery store yesterday but didn't. So it's sort of my fault.)

Don't get me wrong, we're not living in poverty. We're just living on 1/3 of the income that we used to (I'm seriously not exaggerating that) so we're a little more "aware" of how we spend our money on food and other sundries. Don't you love that word, sundries? I sure do. Anywhoo, the good thing about living on a lot less is that you become more creative in your cooking, hosting and entertainment. Instead of going out every weekend, we go on picnics or go to free lectures or concerts and then come home and eat soup. Speaking of soup, I make it ALL the time. I usually throw in a couple cans of tomatoes, and then some fresh vegetables and a chicken breast or some type of meat. It's good, it's cheap and it's easy. And cornbread? Has anyone looked at the price of cornmeal lately? It's like 99 cents for five pounds. So lots of that, too. Good thing M is a master at making it. We've learned what cheap wines and champagnes we still enjoy and feel comfortable sharing with friends and we've learned how to use cheap vegetables like carrots, potatoes and onions to their full extent. Sometimes we splurge on things like arugula (ok, pretty much every week) but I'm proud to say that we're learning how to be more wise with our money. And losing the exra padding that's piled on since we started dating. At the same time, we're able to still give to the causes that we believe in and able to support friends in ministry with financial gifts. If someone would have told me our "new" income and told me that we would still be able to do all of these things, I'm not sure I would have believed them. How much I've bought into the lie that money is important for happiness.

And it's about time. Most of you probably already do all of these things and could give me a few more lessons on how to be thrifty and chic. But I think this is a lesson everyone should be lucky enough to go through: you start to learn that money doesn't grow on trees (oh my gosh, I sound like my parents) and that entertainment doesn't have to revolve around spending lots of money on food and drink. And new clothes. And really adorable Kate Spade shoes. And great jewelry. And...oh gosh...I'm fighting back tears.

Don't get me wrong. Hopefully our income will increase when M finishes school (if it doesn't, I want a refund from the University) and we'll be able to enjoy nice dinners slightly more often than, say, never. But I hope we'll also be able to be more generous toward the organizations and church that we love and think more seriously about using the blessing of having a sufficient income to bless others; not just by giving money to some cause or another, but also by giving of ourselves and our time which sometimes "cost" a lot more. I think this is a lesson that we needed to learn. Hopefully it will be a lesson we remember as we move into the next stages of life, buying a home, having kids and, well, being grown ups.

"One of these Things Is Not Like the Other. One of these things Just Doesn't Belong""

Hint: It's the iPhone. You REALLY don't need to be talking on your phone when you're in a public gym on a treadmill.

Thanks.

I hope this is a sign

It's November 8th. And it's currently 64 degrees outside. Do I need to remind you that we live in Chicago? The city where everyone talks about the ridiculously cold winters? I laugh at you, Chicago weather!

It was such a beautiful weekend that I took some comp time on Friday and M and I went on a fantastic picnic. Just about a mile from our house is a phenomenal and relatively unknown area: Jackson park. Originally used for the Chicago World's Fair in 1893 (no, I will not get tired of talking about it), Jackson Park is a maze of ponds, streams and beautiful wooded areas, and the perfect spot for a picnic. Especially when it's in the 60s outside.

We ate prosciutto, cheese and french bread, lounged on a blanket and enjoyed the beautiful day. (Minus the goose droppings, which seem to be everywhere. Stupid Canadians.) M even took a break from studying for about four hours! This is big, people.

So maybe Chicago weather isn't that ridiculously scary thing that everyone keeps warning me about. I mean I was certain that it would be snowing by early September the way people were talking. Ha! It's already NOVEMBER! Take that!

(Remind me of this post in February when it's -20 and I'm whining about the weather.)

This is Why We Do It

Last Friday, Breakthrough (the organization I work for, in case you missed that) held its Annual Benefit out at the Hyatt Regency O'Hare. By the end of the night, we had raised nearly $900,000, roughly 1/4 of our operating budget for the year. That's pretty amazing for an event that was free to anyone who registered.

The night before the big event, we all started to go loopy with the late nights, sticking labels, organizing volunteers and counting attendants and worried that with the current economy, etc etc etc. this year wouldn't be as successful as years past. But then a colleague wrote the following email (some parts have been removed) that I think reminded us all of what true success looks like.

Here's the email:

I have to admit that there are times when I feel anxious, overwhelmed, frustrated, even angry with our work. In my lowest moments I even question if what we’re doing can make a difference. Is there really hope on the horizon for our community? Are we really able to stand against the onslaught of the enemy that rakes the families of our neighborhood over the coals time and time again? Can we really turn the tide of addiction, violence and despair in the lives of those we encounter?

In those moments I always find myself turning back to Isaiah 58 and God’s call to his people to stand against oppression and injustice. It’s not simply a feel-good call to charity, but it’s a mandate to be God’s hands and feet – his foot soldiers in this battle against the injustice and oppression attacking our community.

Look at the progression in verse 6, God says:

⁶ "Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:
to loose the chains of injustice
and untie the cords of the yoke,
to set the oppressed free
and break every yoke?”

We are called to loose the chains and untie the cords of the yoke – to bring comfort and relief to the suffering. But we can’t stop there, we must work to set the oppressed free – to come along side the oppressed and bring them into the freedom of the Kingdom. BUT not even that is enough. God calls us to “break every yoke” – to completely obliterate the system of oppression so that the same cycle of injustice can’t be repeated. That is an amazingly powerful image to me. It’s a call that challenges us to continue on in spite of the overwhelming challenge ahead of us. A call that forces us to think bigger, think bolder about the purpose for our work.

And, lest we think this is something we can do from afar and without personal involvement, God says in verse 7.

⁷ Is it not to share your food with the hungry
and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—
when you see the naked, to clothe him,
and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?

God makes it clear that we are to be personally involved – sharing our food, providing shelter, clothing the naked. But I think the most cutting, powerful statement in this chapter is the call to not turn away from our own flesh and blood. Wow. Think about that for a moment. Sure we say that we believe that all people have innate worth and dignity because they are created in God’s image. But we often forget that we all share the same masterful Creator - that we are all truly family in the most real sense of the term.

It’s simple to dismiss the indigent, the addict, the gang banger, the homeless pan handler, the felon, the teen mother, or the child who’s never felt the love of their father or mother. It’s so easy to turn away. How much more would our lives be affected if instead we saw the addict as our son, the prostitute as our sister, the felon as our father, the teen mother as our daughter, the pan handler as our brother, and the indigent widow as our mother? Would it then be so easy to turn away? To turn our backs on our own flesh and blood? Yet this is exactly who God reminds us that they are - fellow children of the same masterful Creator, members of the same Family.

I want to challenge us (myself included) to move beyond thinking of the network model as a way to provide a support network, or open doors of opportunity and access to those whom we serve. Don’t get me wrong, those are all important byproducts of connecting people. But the power of the network, to me, is the call to bring disparate children of the Father together. It’s a call to not turn our back on our own flesh and blood, but instead to choose to partner our lives with family members whom we’ve tended to forget. To bring joy to the Father by loving our Kingdom brothers and sisters, fathers and mothers.

Isaiah paints an incredible picture of what happens when these things come together – when we break the yoke of oppression and get our hands dirty in the process by caring for our own flesh and blood instead of turning away. When we corporately fight to break the yoke and personally partner with those we’ve forgotten, amazing things will happen.

⁸ “Then your light will break forth like the dawn,
and your healing will quickly appear;
then your righteousness will go before you,
and the glory of the LORD will be your rear guard.

⁹ Then you will call, and the LORD will answer;
you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I.
"If you do away with the yoke of oppression,
with the pointing finger and malicious talk,

¹⁰ and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,
then your light will rise in the darkness,
and your night will become like the noonday.

¹¹ The LORD will guide you always;
he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land
and will strengthen your frame.
You will be like a well-watered garden,
like a spring whose waters never fail.

¹² Your people will rebuild the ancient ruins
and will raise up the age-old foundations;
you will be called Repairer of Broken Walls,
Restorer of Streets with Dwellings.”

May we not shrink back, but work with boldness, freshly empowered by His Spirit to call together the Children of the Kingdom to break the yoke of oppression, break the hardness of our hearts and bring shalom to our Family.

*******************************************************************************

AMEN.

Domestic Goddess

I'm not into calling people "goddess". I think it's just a little ridiculous. However, when it comes to ME...

I'm a domestic goddess.*

As M studies for his last midterm on Monday and I recoup fro

m our huge Annual Benefit (over $880,000!!!) I've spent the day wandering the city, grocery shopping, folding laundry and making delicious treats. Like the oh-so-delectable Reese's peanut butter cup cookies. Want the recipe? Why, here it is! I made it up myself (or, rather, modified the chocolate chip cookie recipe I've been using since I was about 8.)

1 stick of unsalted butter, softened

3/8 C sugar

3/8 C brown sugar

1/2 tsp vanilla

one egg

Mix all of these ingredients together. Add...

1 1/8 C flour

1/2 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp salt

2 Tbp creamy peanut butter

a dozen or so smashed up Reese's Peanut butter cups

Bake at 350 for exactly 10 minutes. Let cool, if you can keep yourself from shoving them in your face. Other leftover Halloween candy can also be used...I'm going to try Baby Ruth next time.

You see? I'm a Domestic Goddess! Now I'm going to go make a spicy stew for dinner and then probably iron something. Or something.

*I am a domestic goddess as far as cooking goes. Cleaning is a whole different story.

Halloween on Memory Lane

When I was younger, I always wanted to wear a bumblebee costume for Halloween. I’m not exactly sure why that particular costume created so much desire in me, especially considering how horrible I look in yellow AND the fact that I am deadly allergic to stinging insects, but I was adamant. The yellow and black striped leotard, the fishnet stockings, the black tutu, the headband with bouncy balls on it…I wanted to be the cutest gosh darn bumblebee in the neighborhood. And yet, it never materialized. Maybe my parents, in their infinite wisdom, decided that I would look just too ridiculous. Or maybe mom didn’t know how to make something out of stretchy leotard material…and she always made our Halloween costumes. Or maybe my parents had an aversion to their 8 year old daughter wearing fishnet stockings which are usually reserved for…shall we say…women of more experience. Whatever their reason, I was simply not going to be a bumblebee.

I do remember, however, the year that I was Sleeping Beauty for Halloween. Decked out in a light blue satin dress that mom had made- of COURSE it was the light blue one, since everyone knows that Sleeping Beauty’s pink dress was just plain ugly- I also had the pleasure of wearing a ridiculously long blonde wig. Obviously dressing up. Obviously not real. And just for further explanation, for those of you who don’t know what great looks I’ve been blessed with, let me describe. I have dark eyes. Dark hair. Very dark eyebrows. I really didn’t think that anyone would actually think the blonde hair was mine.

I learned then a lesson that has served me well ever since: never underestimate the stupidity of a high school student.

That “Sleeping Beauty Halloween”, as I was trick-or-treating with my father and sister, a group of teenagers came up behind us as we moved from house to house. You know the type; in fact, you probably were the type. Kids who wear their normal clothes and claim to be dressed as the “cynical youth of our generation” or would wear their sports uniform and be the famous athlete who plays that sport. Let me just say that even as an 8 or 9 year old I didn’t buy that. Go buy your own candy at the store, and then go in the woods and drink beers or smoke cigarettes or do whatever it is you cynical youth of our generation do.

But these kids were there. Even though they had been following us for a few houses, no one really had said anything and they generally affirmed my conviction at the time that people between the ages of 14 and 18 were generally stupid and not worth my time…I would rather be playing dry cleaner or orphanage (yes, I played orphanage), thank you very much. So they minded their business, we minded ours…until…one of them spoke. She was probably about 16 or so, dressed in what I now only remember to be jeans and a tshirt, though I’m sure she was trying to be a hippie or something. I guess, looking back, I shouldn’t mock this poor girl who was at least kind enough to offer a few words to the little Sleeping Beauty she kept running into. But passing her on my way from the door of some house where some man had probably given me a toothbrush or apple (that rant is for another time…who gives those out on Halloween?! All of American society has agreed that Halloween night is, in fact, the night that it’s OK to not brush your teeth and eat so much candy and sugar that you make yourself sick. It’s as American as the Constitution and the NAACP suing people!)…but the girl smiled at me and said, “Oh my GOSH. You are, like, SOOO cute! Oh my gosh, and is that like your real hair? I bet so. It is sooooo pretty.”

I think I probably stood there, stunned, for a second. Did I hear you incorrectly? Did you just ask me, the little girl who looks more Slovakian than Swedish, if this ridiculous long blonde wig is actually my hair? Do you not realize that one of the main tenets of Halloween is that you dress up to resemble something you are not? Oh my. No really…oh my. I just stood there. And then my dad called, “Let’s go!” from the driveway and I was gone, leaving stupid- high-school-girl-who-obviously-knows-nothing-about-Halloween-or dressing-up-or-the-basic-rules-of-skin-tone-and-hair-color behind to join her friends again. It would be years before my confidence was again restored in the teens of today (and it took a nose-dive when my sister reached that age). In fact, I don’t think it was until I myself reached the oh so mature age of 14 or 15 that I realized just how right, witty and pretty much perfect teenagers really are. At least this one was.

Happy Halloween. Or Fall Festival or whatever you want to call it.

I think the guy upstairs is throwing himself on the floor

It's really the only explanation for the noise, really.

Every day, usually in the afternoon or sometimes in the evening, we hear a LOUD thump, thump, thump, thump (repeated a lot) from upstairs. At first I thought maybe Man Upstairs was dribbling a basketball on his floor/our ceiling. Or a medicine ball. Because people do that, right?

But then yesterday, as I ate lunch with new friends in our kitchen, it sounded like the Man Upstairs was throwing himself on the ground. This wasn't a thump. It was a loud thunder. Repeatedly. What are we supposed to do about that?

Because the thing is, we don't know who the guy is. We only know it's a guy because sometimes we hear him walking around upstairs and he sounds like a guy when he walks. So we can't really go up and say, "Hey, you ok?" when we hear the thumps. And I've tried pounding on the walls (not out of frustration...just...to alert him to the noise) and that doesn't work either. Maybe he's deaf ("Justice for Gallaudet!")? Or maybe he just doesn't care? Or maybe he, like the guy in "Devil in the White City" is killing people and lugging them off to a furnace in his apartment. I mean it happened once. Seriously. Read the book. It's true.

Either way, between the radiators and the loud neighbor, sleep hasn't been coming so much the last few nights. Here's hoping we have a freakily warm winter here in Chicago and Man Upstairs stops, well...doing whatever it is he's doing.

Attack of the Swine

I don't actually know that it was swine flu, but it makes it more fun, doesn't it?

This weekend, I came down with something. And by something I mean head spinning, coughing my lungs up, throwing up and a fever. Fun times, right? Oh, and did I mention that I got a flu shot three weeks ago?

In case that wasn't fun enough, my infirmity coincided with my parents' trip up here to visit our new digs. I was fine Friday night and most of Saturday, but Sunday was just horrible. Being sick when you have guests? Not fun.

But now it's Tuesday night and I'm finally on the mend. Granted, I can't really talk and that whole coughing the lungs up thing is still going on, but my head isn't spinning quite as much and I don't feel like I'm going to lose my lunch (or dinner) every five minutes. And it HAS been nice to spend the last two days sleeping, since that's been few and far between since the ridiculously loud radiators first turned on. I've been so out of it that I've actually slept through the whistle and clap of those darn things. The flu, or swine flu or whatever, really takes it out of you.

And maybe just to show the swine whose boss, I'll have bacon in the morning.

Dancing King

On my way to and from work, I quite often see a man that I just HAVE to tell you about.

On first glance, he looks like a crossing guard. I think he has a badge and a hat and maybe a neon vest? Now that I think about, I'm not sure exactly what makes me think he's a crossing guard. Maybe it's that he's standing on the corner with a whistle.

Except...he's whistling a beat. Tweet! Tweet! Tweet! Tweet! And he's not waving cars by. He's dancing. Like full on "elbows move down towards hips and hips thrust outward" (also known as "humping the air") to the beat of his own whistle. Sometimes he changes it up, turns around and does the butt pump instead. I have no idea who this man is, or where he comes from. But man, does he make me smile.

You do the math

One of the things about M being a student at the University is that he has to prove that he has healthcare or else pay for insurance out of pocket.

It can't be that much, right?

Wrong.

The cost of insuring both M and myself through the University for a total of just over 3 months is $1,854.00. Yes, that's over $500 a month. For health only, ie not dental. I know, because we just got a bill for it.

The "cost" of my insurance coming out of my paycheck for better coverage is about $100 a month, and includes dental.

Am I the only one who thinks that's crazy?

Odds and Ends

There are a ton of different things I've wanted to blog about but just haven't had the mental clarity to compose a full, witty blog post. So here they are as jumbled bullet points.

-People who take up an extra ten feet when they parallel park really annoy me. I know that at your undergrad schools of Princeton, Harvard and Yale you had valet parkers, dear Chicago students, but please learn. Thank you.

-We bought a Mac. Yep, we did it. A MacBook Pro to be exact. Don't know what that means but we are loving it! Believe it or not, we've saved up some extra money and with our other computer driving me insane nearly every day, we decided to go ahead and go for it. Man, I'm a believer.

-The radiators are on here. It's October 6th, people. Oh, and it was a high of 60 today. Did I mention that they radiators first came on hissing and whistling at 4:30 this morning. That was pleasant.

-M is really good at this school stuff. I thought I was smart, but I look at his homework sheets and it looks like another language. What a smarty pants!

-I love my new job. Love, love, love it. And I actually love my commute...I drive right by the lake, then cut across at approximately the Sears tower (or whatever it's called now) and out to Garfield Park. It's weird to love a commute. But there it is.

-I have yet to make cookies for the neighbors, but I'm taking some in to the office tomorrow.

-I have as of yet not met any Chicago gangsters.

-I have not been to Starbucks once since moving to Chicago. Not even once.

That's all the news that's fit to print round these parts.

I love Wisconsin.

I know. It wasn't exactly what you had expected to read. But Reader, I loved it. Maybe it was the fried cheese curds. Keep reading.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, we escaped America's Second City last weekend for our first anniversary. M surprised me, but I had a hunch we would be going north. I had no idea that I would find Wisconsin to be so beautiful.

First of all, it's not flat. Seriously. There are hills everywhere. And while there's tons of corn and cows (and cheese, I guess), it's really beautiful. Lots of streams, rivers and lakes, probably because it's so close to Minnesota which has like a million or something. And it's full of little towns like this:

Mineral Point, Wisconsin. M booked us in this beautiful, historic inn (it used to be a brewery, but now the top two floors are fantastic rooms. They still brew their own beer out back.)

We spent the weekend just lazing around, exploring Mineral Point and enjoying the perfect weather.

And then we went to Iowa. Yep, Iowa. I mean when you're 30 minutes away, you've got to make the short drive, right? Notice, however, that I didn't entitle this post I love Wisconsin AND Iowa. Because, let's face it, I didn't love Iowa. Dubuque, Iowa in particular, I guess, since I can't throw the baby out with the bathwater. Or whatever that saying is. Maybe it was the fact that it was a Sunday. And there was literally no one ANYWHERE. There was one coffee shop open (yes, Iowa, I contributed $3.22 to your economy. You're welcome.) It just wasn't really anything to write home about. Oh, except for this.

This, my Southern friends, is the MISSISSIPPI RIVER. IT'S BLUE UP HERE. Not brown, not muddy. Blue. Clear. Extremely beautiful. Upon further review, this view made Iowa worth it.

So that was our weekend away, I'll spare you the romantic details, but it really was exactly perfect, especially because of the before-mentioned fried cheese curds. "What the heck?" you might be thinking. "Curds? GROSS!"

No, no my friend. I am salivating even writing about them. These fried little nuggets of, you guessed it- cheese curds- are an appetizer, served with varying sauces. And we're not talking about mozarella sticks from your local Olive Garden. We're talking high-quality, exceptionally yummy cheese. Fried in some sort of cornmeal/flour batter that was unbelievably good. Yeah, I know fried foods are bad for you. And fried cheese is probably even worse. But man they're good. And so Wisconsin if you know what I mean.

And in this perfect atmosphere we celebrated, laughed, looked longingly into one another's eyes, etc etc etc (fade to black) and thought a lot about what has happened this past year.

Wisconsin is known for its cheese, afterall.

The Wait is Over

Ladies and Gentlemen:

As of Monday, October 5th, I will be the newest employee of Breakthrough Urban Ministries, on the West Side of Chicago (www.breakthroughministries.com). I will serve as their Volunteer Coordinator, ie, be a liaison between the Program Directors (programs=men's shelter, women's shelter, kids programs-mentoring and sports, outreach to prostitutes) and volunteers, helping keep everyone happy, involved, etc etc and spending lots of time cultivating relationships. The perfect job for me? Quite likely. I love liaising.

Breakthrough's model of urban involvement is unlike any other organization I've heard of before. I can't really do it justice in just a few sentences, but I'll try. We've all heard it's not what you do, it's who you know, right? Breakthrough strives to specifically built up networks (call them "communities") of people to surround those who are part of each of these different programs. Therefore, when participants graduate from a program or from a school, they aren't suddenly left in isolation to fend for themselves and somehow market their skills to people who already have ideas and prejudices against them. Instead, each person has this network, this community, to continue to reach out to, to be encouraged by, to encourage. They may walk out of the door of a program, but they don't thereby walk into isolation. The reality is that it's these sorts of networks/communities that we know (because we've all experienced it in some form or fashion) that make a difference in our lives. That call us to that "better life", that help us network to find that job and help to encourage us when we're feeling less than our best. I think this just might be the way to help transform communities, be they urban, suburban, rural, black, white, Asian or anything in between.

And so I start on Monday. It's been a long road. In the last month, I've held four different jobs. No really, I counted. MCC. Consulting. Bakery. Law School. Each job has taught me a ton about myself, about people and about the value of work. And now, here I am. Health benefits. 401k. Paid vacation. I have never in my life been more thankful for a job. And the fact that I couldn't have dreamed up a better position? Utterly priceless.

One Year Later

At approximately 10:30 (ok, it was an Anglican service, so let's say 11) on Sunday, September 27th, M and I will have been married for one year. ONLY one year. A WHOLE year. It's weird how it seems so much longer than that (in a very good way) and yet also so much shorter than that (in a very good way). We've had lots of changes...uh, hello, Chicago?...but I think we would both attest to the fact that we're stronger, more faithful, more loving people today thanks to the faithfulness of the Big Guy in the Sky. That's a technical, Biblical name, by the way. It's F3jfhfa in Hebrew. Wait, is that sacreligious?

M has planned a surprise get away weekend (surprise in that I don't know where we're going) for us and I'm REALLY looking forward to enjoying one another and a new adventure somewhere within driving-distance of Chicago. I'm also supposed to find out about a particular job (details, should I get it) on Monday or Tuesday, so it's nice to have something else to keep me, um, engaged pretty fully for the next few days.

Get your mind out of the gutter.

And anyways, we're married. It's legal.

Oh gosh, I hope my mom isn't reading this...

More gratuitous pictures of Hyde Park

I still sort of walk around in awe. The weather has been perfect since we moved in, so many afternoons this week we've just taken in the beauty all around us. It's pretty amazing.
Someone left their office window open. How do I get that office?

This has some technical name. I call it "the gate." Sounds reasonable enough.

Uh. Does this freak anyone else out just a little? Whose anatomy are they trying to receive? What does that even mean?! Are they going to...

Just think about the pretty buildings and flowers...ahhhh. Bliss.

Possibly the greatest invention. Ever.

Not the champagne bottle (though it's definitely Top Five)-- the thing on TOP of the champagne bottle.

Friends. Romans. Countrymen. THIS LITTLE DO-HICKY WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE. Mark my words.

Always wanted to come home and have a glass of champagne after a long day? (Am I the only one raising my hand?) Liked the idea of a glass for dessert? (...uh...guys?....) This, my friends, is your ticket. The champagne stopper/preserver thing. That's the technical name at least.

Right before we left DC, M and I went on a "gift cards from the wedding that we really need to spend" shopping spree. I've always loved champagne, but M isn't quite as in love with it as I am. That means that I either 1) had to drink a whole bottle (uh...not that I ever did that...) or 2) throw away anything I didn't drink or, 3) not drink champagne (horrific, I know.) Until we came across this little guy. I know I've seen these before. It just never registered in my brain that I could own one of my own. Once you've had your fill, you simply pull the side metal things up, then press the little thing down on the bottle, closing the arms around it. Air-tight seal. Preservation of bubbles. No more waste!!

This is my testimony: my life has forever been changed. No longer do I feel guilty buying a bottle of champagne. I can buy it and drink it over approximately four days (I've never saved enough to keep it past then, though I would bet the little seal thingy would work longer) and- I know, I'm probably going crazy here- the champagne is BETTER the second or third day. Bubbles galore. Great, crisp taste. True bliss, really.

This, apparently, is the life of a Hyde Park Hero.

"We Don't Have Any Paper"

This week, I had another interview with an organization that gets me really excited. I'm trying not to get my hopes up (they've crashed and burned more times than I can count) but, needless to say, I really, really hope that I get this job.

The night before the interview, I wanted to print my resume, cover letter and the job description in order to have them on hand at the interview. Since we don't have a printer, I knew I would have to find some sort of store where I could log in to my email (I also lost my USB thingy majigger) and quickly and easily print.

First stop: Office Depot. I walked over to the oh-so-professional looking "Copy Center," waited a few minutes in line and then asked where I could log in to my email in order to make a few copies of a document. I was briskly told that I would not be able to log in to any of their computers, as they're not for private use. "Right, I understand that, but I'm just retrieving two documents to then pay you to print for me."

"We don't do that."

Ok, cool. On to the next store.

So I looped back to 53rd Street, where I had just passed one of those UPS printing/copying/shipping stores. I went in to one of the two computers sitting in the storefront, logged into my email and pulled up the documents. I turned around at that point to get a little help from the guy at the desk.

Me: "Hi, can you help me print something?"

Man: Stare.

Me: "Is that possible?"

Man: "We don't have any paper."

Me: (looking up at the printing/copying sign) "What do you mean?"

Man: "We don't have any paper."

Me: "Well, sir, I'm just printing three pieces of paper. You have three pieces of paper here, right? I mean this is a printing/copying store."

Man: "We don't have any paper."

Me: (angry at this point) "I'm sorry sir, but that's a load of sh*t. It's your RESPONSIBILITY AS A PRINTING COMPANY TO HAVE PAPER."

Man: "Yeah, we don't have any."

Me: "Ok. Fine. I'll go home, get my OWN paper, and then come back and print my three pieces of paper."

Man: "We close in five minutes."

Me: "You close at 6 pm?? So what do you suggest I do?"

(pause)

Man: "You should go to FedEx Kinkos."

With pleasure.

Hyde Park 101

I know. I'm shameless when it comes to beautiful stuff like this. But yes, this is where we live.

We don't literally live IN these buildings, they're just scattered around the the neighborhood. And I don't really know their names. Whatever. Pretty Building works for me!

A little more than one week into it, we've finally finished setting up the apartment, have explored the city (or at least our little corner of it) and are starting to settle in. I started my part-time bakery job today...and just a note. Working in a bakery is MUCH HARDER than sitting at a computer all day! Don't get me wrong, it's awesome. It's just...you have to constantly be with-it and smiling and remember a million different things. It's hard!! So next time someone helps you at the local bakery or coffee place or whatever, be nice to them!! Anyway...

Here's my new favorite restaurant: Medici. Medici first opened in the 1960s, first as a coffee and art shop, now as a full-blown (and full on fabulous) restaurant. It's probably most famous for some of its favorite patrons (not me. Or at least not yet): the Obamas. We enjoyed a pizza and salad outside, as the weather has been phenomenally wonderful the last few days.

Next on our tour: our apartment! As of yesterday, it's FINALLY set up. Below is a picture of our living room and then a picture of the outside (sorry, no pictures of the bedroom, bathroom or kitchen, mostly because they're slightly messy). It's on the third floor of a walk-up, with two beautiful trees outside of the window, great hardwood floors and new windows! Apparently a guy who lived in the apartment across the way had to tape his windows shut before so his cat wouldn't fall out. Thanks for the new windows UChicago!

And finally, here's our street: E Hyde Park Blvd. I took this picture through the windshield, so it doesn't completely capture its beauty. But man, it's beautiful. Tree-lined, wide, with beautiful buildings on both sides of the street. It's also a main bus line (again, thank God for the new windows that block out the noise) making it very easy to get to the University and around the town.

So it's finally starting to feel like we actually live here. M walks to math camp each morning, I head out to the bakery, then spend the afternoons looking for jobs. On the weekends we wander down to the lake, wander into the city or just laze around. We're finally starting to make friends and I'm getting plugged in to the children's stuff at the church we're attending. Life is good. It's different. It's not DC. But Hyde Park has its own little charm, its own quirks, its own crazy people that I'm starting to love as well.

Guess The State

Even though I feel like I could write a book about the things that have happened in the last five days, I'm going to go with something else for this blog post.

Yes, that's right.

It's the game you've all been waiting for.

Below are three pictures taken on our journey to Chicago (yes, I was taking pictures while driving with this very game in mind.) Your job is to guess what state these pictures were taken in. Your options are: Washington, DC, Maryland, West Virginia, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana and Illinois. Should be easy, right? Right...

Picture one. Yes, those are huge windmill thingys. Got it? Now here's picture number two. Yep, it's a totally different state.

Ready for the last one? While this is what I stared at across all states, where do you think this particular picture was taken.

Why people make fun of the Midwest, I have no idea.....

We've Arrived

As of 2 pm on Monday, August 31st, we officially became Hyde Park Heroes.

The trip was incredibly smooth and easy (minus a little mishap in which the rental truck keys were locked in the rental truck as it was running. Thankfully my aunt has AAA!), and we only got lost once. Unfortunately for us, it was in Gary, Indiana. Not the brightest spot in the area.

I'll write more later, including a fun game of "Guess the State" from a selection of pictures taken on the journey. But for now I'll leave you with this: we love our new apartment, we love our new little neighborhood, and Mason almost sort of loves math camp. No, seriously. And avocados at the local produce store cost 69 cents each. YES I SAID 69 CENTS. And a red pepper? Oh, it's only $1.50 a POUND. A POUND!!!! That's practically free.

Stay tuned. More to come later today or tomorrow.

I am on a rampage against Comcast

That's right. You heard it here first. Down with Comcast!

I just spent the last hour and a half negotiating with someone to get internet and maybe, possibly, standard cable service for our new apartment. Don't be fooled: that $19.99 they're offering for internet only? Yeah, it doesn't exist. Unless you also fork over money for cable. And then once you do, you pay some ridiculous installation fee, when I could probably plug the cords in myself. The taxes and fees are nothing ($3.46) compared to the ridiculous prices. Oh, and no worries. In six months, your bill will nearly double (I'm not kidding. From $59.99 to $102.50). Woohoo! Sign me up for that!

Here's the problem. We have no other options. Sure, we could go with AT&T (maybe) for internet. If we could understand their website. Verizon doesn't offer service in our area, and apparently there aren't any other cable or internet companies that do, either. In some weird sense, I guess I can thank myself for that, as I used to provide legislative support to lobbyists who lobbied on behalf of Comcast...poor, oppressed company that it is. Oh gosh, I think I'm going to be sick.

I understand that it's a luxury to have internet and television. I'm fully aware of that (though, as I've mentioned before, there were four bars of cell phone service in the Middle of Nowhere, Rwanda, and I don't think they're paying these prices.) But aren't we supposed to crush monopolies here in the United States? Isn't that what we're about? Apple pie, crushing monopolies and picket fences? Throw in 2.5 kids and a cute puppy and you're living the American dream. But apparently this dream is turning into a nightmare.

Shouldn't I have some sort of choice in who I choose to provide these services to me, if I'm willing to pay the money for it? Or, at the very least, a standard, reasonable, public option that's available to everyone who doesn't care to have "blazing fast internet" (yes, he really said that to me)? Am I just supposed to give in because that's the only option I've got? Hear this, Comcast: I will not bend!!

Maybe I should rename this blog Hyde Park: unplugged. Or just write a book. No internet required.

Hello, Neighbor!

What better way to introduce yourself to the new neighbors then hot, fresh, hand-delivered cookies?

I don't want to brag. But my chocolate chip cookies ARE world famous. And, by the way, I can say "world" because I made them in India when I lived there in 2004. For reference, this is no small feat when brown sugar is nearly impossible to find and your house doesn't have an oven. Yes, friends, you can survive-even thrive- WITHOUT an oven!!! But I digress.

So in order to meet our new neighbors, and since I don't have anything else to do yet (ie, I'm unemployed), I thought it would be nice to bake up a fresh batch of cookies, wrap them up in a cute little bag and hand deliver them to our new neighbors. (I think this would go over really well if I wear pearls, lipstick and talk with a Southern accent. Maybe Mason will even wear seersucker. Do they know what that is in Chicago?) I mean who among us would love to get fresh baked cookies from the new neighbor? I'm raising my hand. As long as my neighbor isn't that scary Russian dude who poisoned that other Russian guy.

I'm quickly learning that our new neighborhood is made up of a unique mix of characters. Again, hopefully not scary Russian dude or anyone involved with any international form of the mafia. Here's hoping. Anyway, you've got your graduate students, who make up the entirety of our building. You've got the professors, many of whom live in the beautiful old mansions on the side streets off of our street (apparently professors at the University of Chicago are doing well). You've got the middle class families who commute in to Chicago every day, and you've got the older people who have lived there forever.

And then you've got them, when they're not (ahem) busy doing other things*.

You think I'll be able to deliver cookies to their house? Maybe if I sweeten up the deal by giving the cops outside some cookies (again, with the Southern accent, pearls and lipstick), they'll let me by. And even though I never heard anything back about renting out their house, I'll let it slide this time.

I wouldn't want to deprive anyone of those world famous cookies.

*Like governing America.

Diet Coke

The other day, after a great lunch with M, I was in need of a little sugary (or at least fake sugary) pick me up. So I turned to my frenemy, the 4th floor vending machine. The choices were:



Diet Coke

Diet Coke

Coke (not available)

Ginger Ale (not available)

Sprite (not available)

some weird fruit juice that doesn't actually have fruit or juice in it.



OBVIOUSLY my first choice would have been Ginger Ale. Followed by Sprite. Followed by Coke. So what's a girl to do when stuck in a situation like this?



So yep. I plunked in my seventy-five cents (!!!), pushed the first of the two Diet Coke buttons and watched as my new can rolled around in the dispenser thingy, the condensation glistening off the silvery metal of the can. I popped the top (hello, anyone else think it sounds just like drinking a beer? Which is totally inappropriate in our office unless it's a party--which we have at least once a week. And there's alcohol. Thank you Federal Government!), and took a swig.


Ugh.


Seriously?

For some reason, I thought Diet Coke tasted better than this. I was wrong, friends. Very, very wrong. The thing is, it tasted almost like a mix of water and real Coke, and just generally fake... if something can actually taste "fake." Ugh. Why do people drink this? I don't care how "healthy" it is compared to real Coke. It tastes like flat dog pee. If I had ever tasted that.

And Splenda? Don't even get me started on Splenda. Even the word makes me want to vommit and go eat a cup of sugar.

Never again, my friends, never again.

FAQs

Here’s the part of this blog where I answer all of those “Frequently Asked Questions” regarding our move to Chicago. Hopefully I’ll cover them all with great aplomb.

Why are you moving?

This fall, M and I decided that it was time for him to go back to school in order to get his Masters of Public Policy. He spent most of November and December applying to schools (I believe the count was 13), never really expecting to get into all of the schools that he did. We had assumed we would stay here in Washington, DC and he would attend one of the great schools in the area, but when we found out that he had been accepted to the University of Chicago, our thoughts and feelings began to change. After talking with friends, family and M’s co-workers/superiors, as well as spending time in prayer, we decided to take the plunge and go with the University of Chicago’s program.

What are you going to be doing?

As of Monday, August 17th 2009, at 11:14am, I don’t have a job.

I take that back.

I have a part-time consulting job that will continue, but it’s only a few hours a month and, therefore, not enough to live on alone. I’ve had multiple interviews for multiple positions but still nothing. I’ve sent out approximately a bazillion emails to potential employers. No luck. I’ve applied for positions ranging from Coffee Maker to CEO, still nothing. Therefore, what I will be doing when we move to Chicago is….LOOKING FOR A JOB! We still feel very confident that we will be provided for, and I am beginning to see just how much this time of searching is refining me, humbling me and making me more dependent on the One who is my Provider. Don’t get me wrong here, though. I’ve raged. I’ve cried. I’ve thrown things (actually, I don’t think I have, but it seemed to fit with the other emotions). I’ve written letters to the President (you think I’m kidding…) I’ve felt depressed. I’ve felt that I somehow “deserve” a job. I’ve felt they must not understand how amazing I am. I’ve thought about contacting them and explaining to them why I’m so amazing. I’ve rethought why I think I’m amazing in the first place. I’m getting there.

Where will you be living?

Well, I’m sad to report that my letter to the Obamas has gone unreturned and so, therefore, we will not be renting out his house. Bummer. Instead, we’ll be renting an apartment on Hyde Park Boulevard (yes, we’ll be living on a BOULEVARD. How Parisian of us.) It’s a University Grad Student apartment, meaning all the other tenants are grad students as well. It’s a couple blocks from the church we think we’ll be attending, another couple blocks from the produce store I’m really excited about, and a quick bus ride for M to get to his classes.

What sports teams will you support?

M is extremely excited that the University of Chicago has a sucky football team (if they have one at all?) so we will continue to be Gators fans. Whew. That was a close one.
Additionally, seeing as how we will be living on the South Side, we’ll be official fans of the Chicago White Sox (and we think the Cubs are too popular already.) I know absolutely nothing about them, but hey, Go Team! We’ll also support Da Bears, simply because they are Da Bears. And we hope to go to Soldier Field in the middle of winter and watch a game. Because watching sports in -10 degree wind chill weather is apparently fun.

How long will you be in Chicago?

We don’t know for sure, but we hope to come back to Washington, DC once M graduates, which will be in two years. A lot can change between now and then, but as of right now, that’s what we’re thinking and feeling.

When are you going to have babies?

If I don’t find a job, I will seriously consider becoming a welfare mom. You have my word, and I’ll have your tax dollars.

When are you finally moving?

We pull out of DC on Sunday morning, August 30th. We’ll be stopping and staying with family in Columbus, OH, and arrive in Chicago on Monday, August 31st. Our last day at work here in DC is August 27th. You can come help us pack on Saturday, August 29th. No really. We would love to have you.

Are you excited? (Note, this is the most often-asked question that we receive)

WOOHOOOOOOOOOO! YEAH YEAH YEAH!!!!!! TOOT TOOT! YAY!!!!! YIPPPEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

YES, we’re excited. Admittedly, not having a job is a bit of a downer, but we’re excited for this new adventure, for new friends and for this great educational opportunity. Saying goodbye is never easy or fun, but we are certain this is what is right for us. Being so newly married, the thought of going off together where we’ve never been known as anything other than a husband and wife is really exciting. Neither of us could have done this alone, and that’s why we’re so thankful that in this perfect timing, we have each other to travel with, encourage and minister along side. I don’t think we could ask for more.

Yes, please.

Last night my friend Sarah and I went to go see Julie + Julia.

Gosh, I love food.

I know, I know, it's all hip and cool these days to be into Julia Child, beef bourguignon and sustainable gardens. But as someone who has always loved to cook- and who has the burn scars on her arms as proof (I'm not kidding)- I feel like I have some right to swoon over poached eggs, beurre blanc and perfectly cooked asparagus.

Oh my gosh, I'm salivating.

This may also be because it's lunch time.

How your world can exist in ten simple blocks

I know it's blurry. You didn't expect me to actually give you a discernible map of where we're going to live, did you?

Now that we've FINALLY settled on an apartment, I've been spending my days mapping out all the fun, urban, cool places I want to frequent when we finally become Hyde Park Heroes. Because let's face it...you can't be a Hyde Park Hero if you're not in the know on all these fun, urban, cool places (that will be, of course, sustainable, environmentally-friendly, angsty-grad student-filled, skinny jeans, hip retro glasses, economically and culturally diverse, wine bar, blah blah blah, sort of places.)

There's Hyde Park Produce, a family-owned and operated produce stand, which will be my go-to for all of the fresh produce that I will use to whip up hearty soups and chowders (or whatever the midwestern equivalent is...casserole?) on the cold, cold Chicago nights. There's Bonjour Bakery, the quintessential European bakery (or so I'm told), where I will enjoy the croque monsieur and the delicious European pastries. Then there's the University gym, which I will waddle over to after eating said pastries. And sandwiches. And ice cream. And cakes. Of course we can't forget the feeding of the spirit, so there's also the church we'll be attending, just blocks away from our home. And then that bastion of intellectualism, the University of Chicago, just crawling with wise and studious scholars. In ridiculously beautiful buildings. And hopefully, somewhere in between all of this, is a job just waiting for me.

And then, after all of my mapping, I realized something. There's no Sears Tower. No Chicago River. Not even really any Lake Michigan (though it is discernible on my map) or the Magnificent Mile. Definitely no Oprah.

And that's how you realize that your world will exist within a ten block radius. Let's be honest...we probably won't go to the Sears Tower but once, or maybe twice when family or friends come to visit. And we'll probably never see Oprah (though if I have my way, I will be running Oprah's Angel Network by this time next year. I'm kidding. Sort of. Hey Oprah! Call me, k?) We probably won't go shopping on the Magnificent Mile (mostly because we will be poor) and I'll probably never run into a real Chicago gangster. Wherever they are. Of course we'll stay connected to DC via friends and news, and we'll constantly be looking around the world to the stories of both travail and hope that have played such an important part in our lives thus far. But this, this little plot of land, will be where our lives are carried out.

But maybe a ten block radius isn't so bad. If we're really about investing in a community like we say we are, it makes sense that our lives would revolve- and be lived out- in that community. There are places of deep economic, social and spiritual need in this small little section of the city of Chicago. There are kids who need help with their homework, or just need someone to spend time with them. There are students who have lots of deep, soul-gnawing questions that have never been taken seriously before and they want to discuss those questions with someone who won't just brush them aside. There are historical and contemporary examples of racism that need to be admitted and worked through, with a healthy dose of grace and humbleness. There's some great learning to be had.

In this ten block radius, there's a life that is waiting to be lived out for a higher purpose.

So yeah, maybe our lives will mostly exist in this small little corner of the city of Chicago. But I'm ok with that...in fact, I sort of relish it. And I relish it because it means that I can wholeheartedly throw myself into the life of this little area, and live out the things that I say I believe among other Hyde Park Heroes. I can be a part of the good work going on there and maybe, hopefully, be used for a greater good. And in the end, I can't ask for a life better lived.

Brought to you by the number "14"

Today's blog post is brought to you by the number fourteen...the number of days I have left at work here in Washington, DC. No matter that I still don't have a full-time job secured in Chicago (though I did just find out that I will be continuing my part-time consulting work!) We're celebrating that there's only 14 workdays left here! That's 14 days to help train my replacement. 14 more days of free coffee at Devon & Blakely next door. 14 more days of free gym access. 14 more days of a security clearance. 14 more days of eating lunch outside of the White House (in the blistering heat, apparently). 14 more days of paying DC taxes.

It might be time for an upgrade

I'm pretty sure this is the computer that I'm using at this very moment.



Ok, maybe not quite. But it sure feels like it and I'm about to throw it across the room if it delays my typing much longer. Were I not an excellent editor, my sentences would look more like this:

I wn t wrk tody. Ad I h fn.

But wait! It's not just that it's sooooooooooooo slow. It's also that it never really wants to connect to the internet, which is a problem when you spend your evenings looking for jobs (while your husband studies calculus. Who has it worse in this situation? That's a tough one). It also apparently has issues with downloading (or viewing for that matter) pictures. And it's so slow I can't even use Skype! Oh, and did I mention that it's ridiculously slow?

Don't get me wrong, I'm very thankful that we even have a computer. And that it came free to me 5 years ago. I know from first-hand experience that there are people in (fill in your favorite developing county here) who don't have computers. However they do have complete cell phone coverage in the bush of Rwanda. Ponder that for a moment. Done? I'll go on complaining then. IT'S S SLW! ! See?? It didn't even type "IT'S SO SLOW!!!" correctly!

So why am I blogging about it? You mean besides the fact that I blog about random things all the time? Oh, yeah, right. Well...one, because it sure would be nice to have at least one working computer when we arrive in Chicago. And two, because it sure would be nice to have two working computers when we arrive in Chicago. Deep down inside I'm hoping that someone out there in the interwebs will decide that what this young couple- who are about to embark on a new journey to Chicago with barely two pennies to rub together (ok, exaggeration)- need is a brand new Mac laptop. (We don't really ask for much.) Don't you hear about these kinds of stories all the time? People helping one another out? Like the lady in Florida who was evicted and her neighbor let her stay with her? Or like unemployment? (Which by the way, I'm not qualified for since I technically am "quitting" my job rather than "being let go.") Ah, the kindness of strangers in our moments of need.

And maybe if I'm really, really lucky, someone like Good Morning America will pick up our story, in which case we'll get a gazillion Macs. It would definitely make a much more interesting story than this whole "birther" thing.

Rain, Rain, Come Again

I'm sitting here on a rainy, Sunday afternoon, doing some work (yes, doing WORK!!) and realizing just how much I love the rain. I've talked to quite a few friends and we all agree that there's something about rain that is romantic, relaxing and just good for the soul. Maybe it's the symbolism of the dry earth receiving nourishment, or maybe it's the idea of our sins being washed away. Or maybe it's just because it makes you want to curl up inside and read a book or doze next to the one you love.

And there's something reassuring about the fact that it rains in Chicago just like it rains here in DC, like it rained in India (ok, they sort of have us beat with the monsoon, which I experienced when I first moved there), like it rained during my childhood in Texas. It's a constant, a known. And that's a comfort. That despite the myriad of differences between one place or another, there are, and will continue to be constants, things we just cannot escape. And that's a very, very good thing.

And really-let's be honest here- if you have to be inside during a rainy day, isn't this where you want to be? Maybe I'll find some secret passage in one of the University buildings.


Or maybe I just love the rain because it reminds me of this. That might be it.

Did I mention the toilet paper?

I didn't? Well let me tell you.

The last night of our vacation (Friday), we went out as a family (all 18 of us...that's the extended family, by the way. We are NOT the Duggars. We're much cuter. And older.) for my grandmother's 80th birthday celebration. My parents have been going to Destin since before I was a twinkle in anybody's eye, and there's this one restaurant, Captain Dave's, that we always seem to go to. So Captain Dave's it was for Grandma's birthday!

Earlier that day, M and I had taken a break from the beach and braved the horror that is an outlet mall. Yes, we did it. Granted, we lasted about an hour and a half and only went into 4 different stores, but we did it all the same. M got a shirt for free (I LOVE GIFT CARDS!), I got two great skirts, and this fantastic, and I mean FANTASTIC long, white summer dress. It was originally over $200 but I got it for $50!! Woohooo! That's practically like spending no money, when you get it that cheap, right? (Note: Apparently American Express does not agree with this reasoning.)

ANYWAY, since it was a special occassion, I put on my beautiful white dress, put on make-up (who wears make-up when they're at the beach?) and left my hair wavy. Oh, did I mention I also had new gold flip-flops? Because I wore those, too. M told me I looked beautiful, and I would post a picture here, except I don't have my camera by me right now. All this to say, I was feeling great, feeling pretty and feeling loved. And was about to spend some great time with much of the family.

The majority of dinner went well. The food was good, the conversation was great, the wine was free (thanks Jared!) and the view was amazing. Actually, we saw a wedding taking place as we ate dinner. They had interesting paper palm trees as decoration. If it were me, I would probably just stick with the "decoration" of the gorgeous ocean. But I digress.

After we finished up dinner, I headed to the bathroom because, well, because...why do you think people go to the bathroom? Geez. After washing my hands (WHO DOESN'T DO THAT? It's so gross when you hear the toilet flush but then don't hear the sink water come on. Blech.) I headed back to the table, a lazy grin on my face as my body processed my food and wine. A couple people looked up at me and smiled and I thought, "wow, I must really look nice in this dress."

And then, as I sat down, I realized.

I had a three-foot long train of toilet paper stuck to my golden flip-flop.

Short but Sweet.

We just returned from a much-needed four day family vacation with my extended fam. Good time, good food, good weather, good beach. With the stress of the move and the big date looming (We move August 30th!) It was really wonderful to get away for a few days and do nothing but...well, relax.

And these, dear readers, are the two pictures that best sum up the feel of the vacation. Yes, that's M. And yes, he's happily snoozing (ok, not really snoozing but at least relaxing) under a couple pounds of sand. Is there anything better than this? He would probably say "Yes, if I had a PBR in my hand." Which he did most of the time, come to think of it...

And then this, below. All I can say is that this is the face of a happy woman, who is not concerend about a job in Chicago, or world peace or international economic development (these are the things that keep me up at night.) This is the face of a woman who woke up to the sound of the surf outside the sliding door, drank Mike's Hard Lemonade (yes, I know it's a girly drink. I'm a girl. Get over it.) and ate so much seafood it almost made her sick. And this is the face of a woman who apparently has many more freckles than she ever realized. Interestingly enough, a family friend once told me that freckles are kisses from angels. If this is true, M's probably going to want to have a little talking to with some of them angels...