Pathetic, A Little

So we might be a little pathetic.

Last night we got to hang out and watch the Olympics with my brother Ty and use commercial breaks to dash to the grocery for ice cream.

It was all fine until Ty left.
It was like the olympics-ice-cream-Ty-band-aid was ripped off and it

was just us, in our little Chicago apartment.

Our little Chicago apartment that is not all-inclusive.

We sat on the couch and looked at the Dreams Resorts website and watched the web-cam of our resort.

This could maybe possibly sort of be interpreted as pathetic.
A little.

3:00 A.M.

I haven't seen 3:00 a.m. in a long time until last night.

Our plane landed at O'Hare around 1:00 under dark but welcoming Chicago sky.

Husband and I spent the past week tucked away in beautiful Puerto Vallarta.

 It was happiness.

Today we are not so happy to be home.

Chicago's gonna have to turn on her charm big time.

In the Sweet By & By

  July is burning through days at a 100 degrees.

My family's much-anticipated 4th of July/60th Anniversary Family Reunion over the first week of July was 100+ degrees all week.

In the rearview mirror I no longer see that as anything but n-o-r-m-a-l, apparently.

Would that the reunion t-shirts had been dry-wicking.

I have a few photos of the summery-est of nights: a bluegrass concert with Grandpa on the banjo with his friends under the backyard pergola.

It's nothing you'd ever see under the city lights, and for that I am obsessed with it.

I laughed really hard that night.
 I soaked in the little baby faces, the fun faces of aunts and uncles (at 28 years old, I still love the feeling of being surrounded by my aunts and uncles), my sibs, my dad, my mom, my grandparents.

Maybe all that soaking in was why I was sweating so much.

Or that it was 103 degrees!

The night ended with a rush to the front porch as the skies darkened for a brief but forceful summer rain storm.
It wasn't enough rain to bring the brown grass back to life, no.
But rocking on the front porch in the rain brought on the re-hashing of lots of funny stories of country storms when we were kids, like when the trampoline flew through the kitchen window.
That was a classic.  You just don't forget things like that as a kid.

You just don't forget nights like this as an adult.

Ohio Street

 Last night, early evening found husband and I at the city's base,

where Lake Michigan edges Lake Shore Drive.

We took our bikes out to hit Ohio St. Beach where the lines are laid for open water lap swimming.

Neal registered for an open water swim race in September, so he's practicing at the race location once in awhile.

Sunday nights are one of my favorite times in the city in the summer, so I was more than game to sit out at the beach guarding our bikes and husband's swim gear.

No wet suits required, this being something like the hottest summer ever.

Week's End

Week's end is here.

The week started with a happy summer romp around the city on Sunday, from which this photo is one of my favorites.

The week will end with some apartment therapy (read: apply myself to the never ending move-in process) and hopefully a night under the lights at Jay Pritzker with friends.

What do you have planned (or not) for this mid-July weekend?

Buckingham Fountain Picnic

Husband and I set the vespa wheels spinning as soon as we got back to Chicago.

Instead of unpacking bags and downloading pictures, we spent a sub-90 degree (gasp!) Sunday walking Lincoln Park, sitting on a bench in the shade, walking some more, and benching it again.

It was the most relaxing day I've had in a really, really long time and kind of unexpected.

To me, one of the keys of "relaxing" is "long."

The day was long in the best sort of way, stretching from Lincoln Park to Grant Park.

After sitting at Alfred Caldwell Lily Pool for awhile, husband suggested picnicking Chipotle at Buckingham Fountain.

Which is one of my all-time favorite Chicago summer pastimes.

You can't live a day in Chicago from June-August without someone practically running up to you in the street, throwing their arms around you, and yelling, "Chicago summer is the best ever!"

Maybe not the hug part, but you understand that was just creative license.

But seriously, grab some Chipotle,

picnic it at Buckingham Fountain, and then tell me you wouldn't want to throw your arms around someone and yell, "Chicago summer!"

Land of the Free and Home of the Brave

So long, city!

Husband and I have been a week's stay here.

Here, where?

Next paragraph.

Every 4th, we road trip to my family home and a house(s) full of nieces & nephews, brothers & sisters, aunts & uncles, parents & grandparents.

This week of the summer fires on my "looking forward to things" gene so crazily that I think husband decides that even though he loves me a lot, maybe he doesn't want to clone me after all.

This year we had a wedding, a family reunion, and a 60th wedding anniversary, all topped off by the 4th of July.

This is what I love about my family.  Go big or go home.

Except the "or" doesn't make sense.

Go big.  Go home.

Now that makes sense where I come from.

This is my land of the free and home of the brave.