Tug tug

I moved to Chicago in an October, which means I was here for almost an entire year before I got to experience a Chicago summer.  Its amazing I got through it, because Chicago winter is the worst, but Chicago summer makes it all worth it.

I loved my first Chicago Summer.  I don't remember very much of it, but I do remember spending a lot of time lusting after the boats in Belmont Harbor.

"Next Summer, I am going to make a friend with a boat." was my declaration.  Its a pretty ridiculous request, but not completely without merit.  There are a lot of boats in Chicago and they all seem to have owners.  Surely I would meet one who liked me enough to let me ride around and drink on his boat.

We are standing on the precipice of my fifth summer in Chicago and I have yet to make a boat friend.  I'm starting to get frustrated.  Much like my green river fears - I am terrified that I am going to leave Chicago never having had a friend who I share similar interests with and makes good conversation and also happens to own a boat on the Lake of Michigan.

There are many girls who feel like the conversation piece is not really necessary and while I can sympathize with the unspeakable urge for boating, it seems almost like very mild form of prostitution to not at least pretend like you want to talk to this person.

I know people who know people who own boats, but its not the kind of relationship where I can just wake up on a sunny Saturday morning and know my plans without even getting out of bed (honestly - if I knew someone with a boat I would probably never do anything else during the Summer).  Making these connections essentially useless, except for giving me a taste of the good life and then leaving me a cracked out junkie, crying for more.

I find the lake to be pretty gross and unappetizing as a swimming location (this is my East Coast snobbery coming out.  Give me the Atlantic or give me death, people) but for some reason the bacteria can't affect you if you enter the water from a water slide or even just a dive off the back of someone's pontoon.  I don't know how it works, but I'm sure there is some science to back it up. 

It's also really just my WASPy nature.  I am meant to be on the bow, decked out in seersucker and a souvenir captain's hat while drinking a Rolling Rock (pony bottle sized) and discussing the finer points of Bon Iver's new album.  Don't hate the player, hate the genetic game, my friends.

Just like all four years previously, as I've watched the boats creep back into their little boat nooks, I've begun scheming just how this is going to be my year to make all my nautical dreams come true.

I cannot make a personal ad not sound creepy (mid-20's girl ISO someone with boat to quote 30 Rock, talk about the New Yorker and drink local beer with...on your aforementioned boat), there are not-so-nice names for girls who sit around the harbor waiting for an invitation, and at this point, I don't really have the bikini body or the shameless self-promotion for that, and I've tried asking all my current friends, but they're all the same friends I had this time last year.  I should win bonus points for being a good and loyal friend, despite the fact that they have nothing to offer me from Memorial Day - Labor Day.

I'm left being nice to everyone I meet and trying to find something to talk about, just on the off chance that after we discuss our shared enjoyment of Margaret Atwood books they'll say, "Hey, do you want to come on my boat sometime?"

I find that this increasingly happy and friendly makes me almost completely blend in with my Midwestern surroundings.  And then I figured it all.  These people are only so nice, because they're just hoping someone will invite them out on their boat.

Well played, Midwest, well played.

shorty

I cannot find acceptable length shorts.

I am 5'2 and some of that is legs, and some is torso - its pretty standard. And I really want shorts that are acceptable to wear besides at the beach/grocery store/baseball game.

Turns out that is a pipe dream. There is no such thing as a flattering pair of shorts for a girl of my proportions, which doesn't seem quite fair - because despite the fact that taller people might feel the rain first, I get unbearable hot just like everyone else.

Hey Chicago Whaddya Say?

Happy Home Opener!


This might be the year I play hooky for a cubs game. We'll see how they are doing towards the middle of the season, but there is nothing better than a Wednesday afternoon Cubs game (so I've heard). Really, there is very little in life that is better than a baseball game on a sunny, warm day. Its like a picnic, with 40,000 strangers. And you get to yell and scream and sing.

And Wrigley Field, I think has spoiled me forever. There is so much history in that park. They still have people who change the score board by hand! And there are men screaming, "cold beer! peanuts! hot dogs!" It is comfortingly stereotypical and cliche. Also, Old Style! Its so watery, but it tastes like a baseball game. And you don't have to get up. They just walk past your seat.

There is alot about me that's changed since I moved here, but one of the biggest things (as most people can attest to) is how living here makes you (well, me) a sports fan. There's something to be said about living 10 blocks from a national sports landmark. And it'll change you, if you let it. Plus, its super fun. Really, I promise. Baseball games are fun. If only because its a large, open air bar with lots of boys running in circles on the field.

Its here! Its here!

I just bought my first Cubs tickets of the season, which means Spring is FINALLY here. This winter was actually surprisingly less painful than winters past... maybe because I spent so much of it indoors. And I'm sure the trip to Hawaii helped somewhat.

But it doesn't matter anymore because I have cubs tickets for April 26! And they're playing my beloved Nationals!! Horray!

Chicago Spring

Today when I left my house I was wearing:

Jeans.
Thick Socks.
Converse.
Tank top.
Long sleeved tee.
Tee shirt.
Light cardigan.
Hoodie.
Another hoodie.
North Face.
Pair of gloves.
Another pair of gloves.

And I was comfortable. I walked about ten blocks in this get-up and was perfectly happy.

Then when I walked from job 1 to job 2 (which is conveniently located about ten blocks from job 1 on Tuesdays) at 1 PM, I was slightly warm, but not miserable.

When I left job 1 at 3:30 I was ridiculously overdressed. Like jerk-ily over dressed, like no longer needed anything but a tee-shirt over dressed.

How does that happen??

Chicago is such a twat tease when it comes to the Spring weather. I check it every morning and when it says that the high is only going to be getting up to 46. I take that to mean that the mercury is not going to rise to 60 degrees and yet, no dice.

This morning I should have had a winter coat on. It was 29 degrees. That's coat weather, but I have retired my coat for the winter and refuse to get it back out. So layers are the only option but they aren't working either.

Why can't we just get on with it and have no-coat weather?

Its almost over/its just beginning

So, life is kind of crazy right now, for a bajillion reasons. Most of them being that at some point in life I was taught to save all the best parts of summer for the end of it. I don't know why- but it makes a whole bunch of sense and it makes the transition into fall that much easier. Although, now that I'm no longer in school there shouldn't really be a transition, and yet for some reason there always is.

The rest of this week promises a Cubs game, a job interview, my first time hosting a Chicago party, new improv classes, and my first Nats game (which will also be my third cubs game).

Then next week I fly to Denver to take part in one of the craziest things I've ever talked my way into. The Democratic National Convention. I can't really believe that we're actually flying all the way there - and we're going to have press passes and I'm going to be in Colorado! For the first time!! Ever! I keep going West!

Then I come home with just enough time to unpack and then repack before heading to Nantucket. By myself!! I've never gone on a solo vacation. If it isn't completely sad its going to be totally wonderful. I don't think I spend enough time just by myself not talking. I have a lot of writing I want to get done and there will be nothing better for the muses then sitting on the porch eating portugese bread and drinking Granny's bad coffee.

After that...its the middle of September. I might have managed to talk my way into a new job. And I'll be taking two new classes, interning, doing shows and keeping myself more busy than most people actually believe possible. And its football season! And the world series! And I'll be turning 24. And I get to go to Chincoteague!! And my baby sister is turning 16 (more on that later).

I've been getting less sleep lately, for a whole bunch of reasons all good except for the fact that, you know - I miss sleep.

I know this sounds crazy, mostly because I am always crabby and I complain a lot and I seriously have no money, but I'm pretty absurdly happy right now. I know that once winter starts things are going to get pretty depressing, but I'm trying to save up happiness, like a squirrel, and I'll have it to get me through January and February.

Summertime Chi (now throw your hands up in the sky)

So Tierra came and visited for five glorious days last week as part of her massive road trip and while my liver, checkbook, and BMI are probably secretly glad that she's gone, the rest of me absolutely loved having her here and wishes she would stay forever. I sometimes forget how amazing Chicago is in the summer. I'm so busy working and performing and running around that I never stop to be like, "damn, B. This is kind of the life."

While Tierra was here we went to my very first Wrigley field baseball game (which may also be my very first MLB stadium game - except of course for the one when I got kidnapped, but that was just batting practice so it doesn't count). I've decided that game and the Chicago Fire game this weekend, that I love live sports. The whole sports thing is still kind of new and bizarre (1 year of caring v. 22 years of not caring = big difference).

Also - I would like to point out that I'm fairly sure this was my first live men's professional game and it SUCKED where as ALL of the US women's games I've been to (both World Cup and otherwise in DC) have been amazing.

I also hung out with some random people while Tierra was here, because we pretty much hung out with whomever was around and all of them were so warm and welcoming which made me so happy - I've managed to make friends with some grade A midwesterners.

Tierra also got to see me perform both long and short form improv and got to see some great sketch comedy (as well as a decent harold). This is such a huge part of my life now. And she's the first one who's come out and actually seen it all go down. She seemed to love it.

I noticed while she was here that boys LOVED her. There were no nights that went by without some guy walking up to us and telling her that she is gorgeous. While, everyone loves a self esteem boost for themselves - I think I almost loved it more for her (I have plenty of problems with boys without complete strangers walking up to me-- also she's got that exotic halfrican thing going on).

So - the moral? Come to Chicago. While its gorgeous and summer-y. Not when its sucky and grey. Meet my amazing friends. See me be funny/an asshole on stage. Experience why I think that this city might be for keeps (at least for a few more years).