I think I got hit on last night.

I used to get hit on all the time, but now it's such an infrequent occurrence I'm left wondering if that's what happened at all.

It kind of made my day for about five minutes, and then I got home and found Josh in the kitchen, listening to some tunes, blanching green beans for dinner he was making.

And then my day was really made. He opened me a beer, and dished me out some salad and let me pick what we watched on TV.

To say my perspective has changed is something of an understatement. I think that, really, everything has changed.

And that's awesome.

Cooking, sewing, knitting- I love crafting of pretty much any kind, but sometimes life gets in the way.

For the last two weeks our bedroom has looked like a disaster area. Fabric and yarn and sewing paraphernalia everywhere, magazines I haven't had a chance to read, and books I have scattered across what should be our serene bedroom.

Because I am mid-project, I am loathe to clean everything up and put it all away just to break it all out again when I have a minute to work, so it just stays out in some sort of messy limbo.

Well, not to jump the gun on dishing about the new place, but it's a three bedroom, which means Josh and I both get our own offices. After living for the past year without doors or walls I am thrilled to be getting my own space.

But until then, we have to deal with the clutter in our bedroom. I am going to diligently work this weekend to finish projects and then I'm packing everything away until we move in four weeks!

Speaking of the next four weeks, I'm relatively certain they are going to fly by-

This weekend will be a crafting blitz
Next weekend I have friends visiting (lots of friends actually, bad planning), and we're having a brunch at our house. Sort of a last hurrah before we move coupled with this Gap Brand About Town thing.
The next weekend we'll be purging; sorting out what can go to the Salvation Army, what we don't need to drag to another apartment.
The last weekend we'll be heading to out last concert of the year at Ravinia and packing up.

Sounds to me like we'll be south siders before I know it.

I've made no secret that I am not really fond of Chicago. While I'm getting used to this part of the country I am just not happy or comfortable where we live on the north side of Chicago. Not to mention the THREE hours I spend in the car everyday; though I do always seem to manage it.

The number one thing that Josh and I have fought about during this first year of our marriage is where we live. I can't believe that he, having lived here his whole life, didn't think my commute would be "that bad" when we found our apartment, and he, well, frankly he can't believe my commute has been this bad. As someone who has no need for a car he also has no occasion to be stuck on the highway here everyday, so he had no idea just how bad it really was.

After much deliberation (and fighting and cursing) we decided to move out of the city. To the suburbs. Not really where either of us really want to live, but I actually can not take it in the city any longer. I am not a city girl. Also, there's that pesky little commute thing. After looking at lots of little towns around where I work we found a great little town that had more of a small town vibe than a suburb vibe, was right on the lake and had a commuter train that ran to the city. It was perfect.

I'll skip the long only-interesting-to-us story and say, well, it wasn't perfect after all.

We kept looking and widened our search with the criteria that my drive time to work couldn't be more than a half hour. I'm thrilled to say that we found an apartment that we love. It is beautiful, across the street from a park, right on the lake and 2 (2!) blocks from the train. We love the apartment so much, that we are willing to overlook the fact that is, unquestionably smack dab in the middle of the ghetto.

Josh is just relieved we won't be in the suburbs after all.

This weekend we had a fatality at work, and it is all I can think about today, all I could think about last night. How quickly so many lives can be ruined. The woman who was killed, her husband, her kids, her parents, her coworkers and friends, the poor man who was involved in the accident ...

But really all I can think about is my husband. My parents. My friends.

Where I work, well, there are inherent dangers. The company, the employees, even the government do their best to mitigate these dangers, but still, accidents happen. Freak accidents that can just change the course of so many lives in the blink of an eye.

I was lying in bed with Josh last night, and he was tickling my back like so many nights when I can't sleep. I was thinking about how much I let little things creep in and stress me out; getting my car fixed, finding an apartment, paying for an upcoming trip to a wedding and budgeting for some pending expenses. These things can consume me and keep me up at night; they can put me on edge and make me short with Josh.

Last night, safely tucked away in bed in our dark bedroom listening to Josh breathe, I counted my blessings for the first time in a long time.

We've been apartment hunting for a couple of weeks now.

Last week flew by because we really weren't home at all. Josh took the train down to Indiana, I picked him up at the station when I got off work, we'd check out an apartment or two, grab some dinner and then drive home. It was great having company for the long ride home. It was also great trying some of the divey little restaurants I often drive by on my way to and from work but never get to try. One night we had pizza at an old pizza parlor. We'd just seen three frightful apartments and were feeling pretty wary about this small town. We were super hungry when we sat down and our waitress said the pizza would take about a half hour so we ordered an appetizer. She very highly recommended the garlic bread, so we went with that. We were cranky and had begun snipping at each other but that all changed when this "amazing garlic bread" arrived.

It was half a stale hoagie roll with the thinnest smear of butter and a little garlic salt. It was so sad and pathetic looking sitting there in its big basket that Josh and I simultaneously began cracking up. We tried to keep it together, so as not to be rude to the sweet faced waitress when she asked us how everything was, but it was a mighty effort.

The next day we popped into this little Mexican joint. The two gals didn't speak any English so I dusted off my old High School Spanish memory and gave it a shot. "Two gorditias, two tacos, two waters, please" = "Dos gorditas, dos tacos, dos aguas, por favor."

Simple enough right? I ordered for us and then turned to josh beaming at my industriousness.

"Show off" he replied. And I sat, pretty darn pleased with myself, until our order came. Two gorditas, two tacos, and two rice-water things.

Too confused and embarrassed to say anything I took a tentative sip. It was delicious. But definitely not worth the look on Josh's face when he realized I'd oversold my Spanish skills.

Things I love about my husband number 389; click here.

Time sure flies. Our lease is up and we are apartment hunting- which means I've been in Chicago for a whole year. It feels like the shortest year of my life. So many amazing things have happened in the last year, and they all stared because one day last November I had the flu.

My husband and I met in a flurry of coincidence. One day in November I got the flu. I had it for about a week and a half and a few days into that week, bored with daytime TV, unable to watch Harry Potter again, and having read everything available to me on the internet I started poking around the NaBloPoMo website. I knew that there were numerous bloggers posting everyday, and that it would be a wellspring of new material to read in bed whilst sipping cherry 7-Up.

I found this one blog written by a nerdy/hot Chicagoan who made funny, witty videos and I devoured his archives. The first one I remember was this one, and I remember thinking what a cool dude, seriously someone I'd like to grab a beer with. But get this- at the time I remember thinking that here was one of those guys that was cooler than I was, and even if we knew each other he probably wouldn't even notice me.

I know, right?

This morning while I was brushing my teeth Josh popped his head in the bathroom and said "Hey, do you know what today is?"

I kept brushing; perplexed for a minute, then I felt my face brighten.

"Happy six month anniversary!"

I think we'll celebrate tonight with some grilled chicken and broccoli.

Maybe 'celebrate' is overstating.

It seems like all anyone can talk about today is BlogHer (and look at me talking about BlogHer). I know that it's a big deal for a lot of people and they bought plane tickets and got hotels and are sharing rooms with strangers just to attend the conference and loads of people who really, really want to go would probably wonder why, despite living in Chicago I'm not going.

It's because I don't want to.

I'm never going to be famous or make my living by sharing my glorified diary with the world. I'm never going to land a book deal or support my family through advertisements on my website. I'm going to keep on being a plain old engineer and trudging off to the steel mill five days a week.

That's not to say I don't truly enjoy blogging and having a creative outlet and meeting new people through my blog. That is the best, and it's the number one reason I give people when they ask me why on earth I'd want to post the sometimes mundane details of my life for everyone on the internet to read. That is also not to say that I don't want to meet you. If I'm in your city or you are going to be in mine you better believe I'm going to attempt to cajole you into grabbing a beer and maybe a burger with me. And then probably another beer.

Please don't take this as a criticism if you do want to go to BlogHer, I think that's cool. I mean, I gate crash the Food and Wine Classic in Aspen every year so, you know, to each her own.

That said, anybody who wants to grab a beer and maybe a burger let me know, and I'll be there.

To be fair, I am loking forward to meeting some folks I wouldn't be able to were the conference in another town.

We tried the city for a year and for a number of reasons it's not working out. My long commute, the exorbitant price of living in Chicago, the noise, the lights, the people... I could go on.

I lived in a pretty small town for a long time and though I always lived near a city, it was tough for me to move to the city. Now Josh is in the same boat. He loves Chicago, and he loves living in the city, but we're trying a year in the suburbs, closer to work, smaller town, less expensive... But we'll still be near the city.

I'll have less of a commute and Josh will have more of a commute. Which seems like a good deal for me, but not so much for him, so we're going to try it for a year. It might not work out, and in a year we might be looking to move again, but for now we're apartment hunting in a small town.

And by small town I mean; Craigslist had 3 listings posted for rentals.

We are looking at two of them tonight, we'd planned on looking at the third as well but we got the following email from the "landlord"

Dear Josh and The Maiden Metallurgist

Glory Be!

Thank you for your interest in the home, I am a missionary and out of the country so I cannot show you the house. Please drive by and if the house looks good please fill out the following application:
Name:
Social Security Number:
Employment:

Also, please include rental fee and security deposit. Once I receive payment I will mail you the keys!

The Glory!

I am trusting in you and God to do the Right Thing.

So. Make that two listings on Craigslist.

Last night Josh and I went for a walk. Sounds romantic, huh? Well this was no leisurely stroll. I had just finished a book and I wanted, no I needed, to get the next book in the series. I'd read four books over the weekend and two the week before, and it occurred to me that I might be going a bit overboard. Well, it occurred to me when Josh rolled his eyes and called what we were doing "feeding my addiction."

It could be worse, but I think he might be right. All it takes is a book; it doesn't even have to be a good book to ruin my week. I am not a read-a-chapter-before-bed kind of person. I start a book and I can't put it down until I'm finished- even if that's at four in the morning.

So as a general rule I don't read on weeknights because I actually need to sleep at night before I trudge off to the steel mill.

But I can't stop.

And that's not the worst part.

What I'm reading, obsessively, is not anything I can be proud of. It's not respectable literature by any stretch of the imagination.

I'm addicted to the smutty Sookie Stackhouse vampire saga.

And I do mean smutty, I actually get a little embarrassed when the books get, you know, "sexy."

So now you know my dark summer shame. I am as hooked as a crackhead.

On the up side, unlike crack, steamy vampire-mystery-romance novels do set an amorous tone on an otherwise mild Monday night...

We've been running all around town lately on the weekends. Chicago is opening up and I'm finally starting to feel at home here (albeit, begrudgingly). After so much go-go-go Josh and I decided to take a little respite from the hustle and bustle and spend a low key weekend at home, just the two of us.

It's funny how much difference intent can make. If we spent a weekend lazing about the house because we had no plans and couldn't find something to do I'd feel slothful and I'd consider it a weekend wasted. But. Setting the intention of staying in, enjoying the house and each others company and I feel relaxed, revitalized and, you know, intimately connected with my husband.

We ate dinner, we read several books, we watched some True Blood, we napped in the afternoon. I sewed, he interneted, I made a really and truly terrible breakfast; we walked the dog and snuggled with the cat. We picked tomatoes; eating the ripe ones with a little bit of salt and watching the tiny ruined ones go SPLAT! on the street below. We shared a bottle of champagne we'd been saving for a special occasion and cleaned the kitchen.

We didn't really leave the house or spend any money, and it was a lovely weekend.

Drum roll please...

This winner is Linda Walrod (the Librarian!)

So, you know, congratulations.

I'll be having another giveaway soon and along with it a big announcement.

Well, probably not that big to you, but big enough to me.

Stay tuned...

I like my good celebrity gossip as much as the next girl, but lately I'm just not feeling it.

For example. Yesterday I was reading this less-than illustrious site and there was a post about Christian Bale. He wrote two paragraphs about how he's on drugs, and how kids shouldn't do drugs and all that inane bleah-blah-blahing he does before saying (in paragraph three!) That Bale's not on drugs, he looks like that for a movie role. What? What a dick. First of all, obviously. Second, why was all that yammering about drugs necessary? Surely he doesn't need to stir shit up to increase his traffic? He gets about a billion hits a day.

Another post yesterday was titled "If You Think Daniel Radcliffe Is Gay... You're Right!" then he goes on to say "We mean, no. No, Daniel Radcliffe is not gay."

OK. What an idiot.

Or maybe I'm the idiot for checking in eight times a day to get my "updates."

So maybe I'm not giving up all gossip, but I'm definitely giving up Perez Hilton.

I'll send my internet traffic to a gossip monger I respect.

Don't forget to enter my first ever giveaway contest!

I've been crushin' lately.

Not to outshine my original blog crush- Berg With Fries, I'm working on some new blog crushes of late.

Alinea at Home

Carol is cooking her way through the Alinea cookbook. I am both jealous and awed by her. It's ballsy to tackle a book like this one in your KITCHEN without all those fancy little tools that they use at the restaurant, but she's up to the task. After all- she's already cooked her way through the French Laundry cookbook.

Out of the Frying Pan and Into the Mire (Formerly Culinary Couture)

I've just had a mad girl crush on Lemmonex since I started reading her blog- which wasn't soon enough if you ask me. She recently went through a blog metamorphosis but retained her salty, saucy voice. I'm pretty sure I'm going to actually stalk her when we're in DC in October. Or maybe I'll just invite her out to dinner for juicy burgers and too many cocktails.

Driving Miss Dallas

Miss Dallas is a very temporarily unemployed knit-aholic. She raises chicken and drinks mojitos and works in her yard... and she's totally bored. She's passionate about writing and can't wait to get back to work. She writes about writing, job searching and her beautiful life in, you guessed it, Dallas.

Kyla Roma

This girl is living my dream. She had an awful job that was making her miserable so do you know what she did? She quit! She's spending the summer doing things that she's passionate about and I am oh, so jealous. She's rather young and precious but also very cute, creative and nice. Sometimes I forget that there are genuinely nice people out there that don't rely so much on dry sarcasm to get through the day.

Scotty Iseri

I don't know how Josh found this guy, but we both get a kick out of his videos. He's sort of Joshy's unemployed doppelganger. I think we're fans, not stalkers or anything untoward like that (though I do follow his twitter), but we did have a discussion the other day at Whole Foods about what we would do if we ran into him on the street or the train (he lives here in Chicago). For the record, I'd invite him and his wife out for drinks; Josh would pretend that he didn't recognize him. And he'd hide, you know, *just in case*.

Jonniker

Jonniker just had a baby a few months ago and you know what? She talks about her baby. I think it would be unreasonable to think she wouldn't. She also talks about True Blood, music, Vermont and a myriad of other things. I love reading one more mother who defies the stereotype that once a woman has kids she can't think or talk about anything else. I have loads of friends who have kids- they also have jobs, friends, hobbies... I'm actually not sure why that stereotype persists.

Don't forget to enter my first ever giveaway contest!

So Sunday- I was pretty shy about this last week, I'm not sure what I thought would happen if I came out with it before the fact, maybe you would tease me or throw little rocks at me, but here's the big secret:

I auditioned for a reality show on the Food Network. I've wanted to do it for a few years, and my girlfriend Tanya has always encouraged me to go for it- so this year I finally did. Before you get really excited, let me make a relatively short story even shorter and say- no, I wasn't magically selected to participate in a nationally televised cooking show. Sadly, the Food Network PA thought I was "cute" but her tone also implied "rather out of my league."

Seriously, the guy sitting next to me brought his own cook book, like, with his face on the cover. I can't compete with that.

Sunday morning I hemmed and hawed and fretted over what I should wear. I carefully constructed a cute but laid back look, and on the way there I spilled coffee all over myself. How smooth am I? And they are passing on all this charm and grace? Big mistake!

The rest of the weekend was no less exciting. We had some family commitments, but squeezed in Friday night we got to hang with Librarian Girl and Nordic Boy while they were in town! Since they keep their faces off the internet over at Pop Culture Librarian, I'll do the same here, but enjoy this fuzzy picture of me drinking a beer!

Also for Jilly, since you asked, here is a picture of me in my new fabulous dress. Pay no attention to the armpit-gina.

Don't forget to enter my first ever giveaway contest!

Happy Friday!

So I've had a great week, and there are some exciting things on the quickly approaching horizon. Well, exciting for me, probably not so much for you. But, to celebrate a great week and fun things to look forward to I've decided to have The Maiden Metallurgist's first giveaway!

Is that exciting? Maybe?

Next Friday, I'll be announcing the winner of a brand new purse- just like this one but a different fabric.

It's not much of a contest because you don't have to do anything for it, just leave a comment and let me know what color you'd like if you win.

Lately our social calendar has been pretty full. Weekends always seem to be jam packed with visits, birthdays, parties, and dinners. Before you get the wrong idea that I'm complaining here, it is wonderful. It is so much nicer living here now that I know some people and I'm meeting more all the time. The problem is not at all that we have a fun social life and that I'm making friends. The problem is that I suffer from a terrible case of sure-I'd-love-to-itis.

Meaning- everything sounds fun, and I accept every invitation before I think about it and look at the calendar.

This, in turn, means that I have to call about half the people who extend an invite and say- "gosh, I'd love to, and I'm sorry I said I would, but I can't come, I've already got plans."

Which wouldn't be so bad, pretty embarrassing and rather bad manners sure, but not a tremendous problem, except Josh also suffers from sure-I'd-love-to-itis. So I make plans when I already have plans, Josh makes plans when he already has plans, and we're both making plans for the other when god knows who already has plans.

Case in point; this weekend:

We have family commitments and friends in town from Seattle. That's enough to deal with right there, but then Josh accepted an invite to a bachelor party and I accepted an invite for the two of us to a game night. I also have a dentist appointment and a super secret activity on Sunday that will take up most of the day but I'm too embarrassed to tell you about it.

I know there are a number of solutions for us to this problem- pocket calendars and PDAs for example, but the one I've decided to implement and work on is this:
"I'd love to, but I need to check my calendar when I get home. Can I give you a call tomorrow?"

I'm going to make it my new mantra.

I'm not a big hugger.

No real reason. I guess I just like my personal space. My friend Suz has always teased me about this, as hugging is generally a girl thing and generally speaking I am a girl. Specifically speaking I'm a girl who was in a sorority. You'd think I'd be a bigger hugger.

My very best pal of 20+ years and I have probably hugged three times in our whole lives. Once when she moved to Austin, once when I moved to Chicago, and the last time we said good bye after I visited Denver. We just don't hug. We are also not crazy naked in the locker room ladies, but that's another topic all together.*

One of the side effects of being an infrequent hugger is that I can also be an awkward hugger, as illustrated by a recent dinner out with several friends. Josh and I are the first to arrive at dinner, shortly thereafter another couple shows up. These are people that I like very much, we've hung out several times, it's just, well, I don't hug.

But when everybody else starts hugging, is it rude to just go in for the hand shake?

I can never tell, so I sort of stutter back and forth between starting the hand shake and the hug for a few moments, decide to go in for the hug and then abruptly blurt out "I'm not really a hugger. AW-K-ward."

Because my hugging wasn't awkward enough before I announced how awkward it was.

Seriously, what is wrong with me?

Well, the next day I was still thinking about it. Not because I was super concerned, but because I have a very long commute, my mind wanders.

And I started to think not just about hugging, but affection in general. I'm not a terribly affectionate person. At least not publicly. In fact, my mother lambasted me for not saying "I love you" in my wedding vows, but it's just generally not the kind of thing I say in front of a bunch of people. I sure as hell said it all gosh darn day when we didn't have an audience. I just, I don't know, like to keep some things private.

This is funny, considering that I'm sharing that little tidbit in this particular forum. The irony is not lost on me.

*BTW, what is the deal with those naked ladies in the locker room after yoga? Bend at the knees naked ladies, not at the waist.

For six months I'd been oh-so good. I'd stuck to my shopping manifesto- no new purchases. If I needed clothes for work of a new pair of jeans I'd buy them used. I have acquainted myself with the areas thrift, second hand and vintage stores- all the same really, the only real differences lying in organization and price. I shopped my closet and cleaned my closet and finally gave up the ghost.

The 20 (20!) pounds I've gained in the past year aren't going away as quickly as they came on and my clothes just don't fit. I can live with that. I was always a tiny little thing, so even 20 pounds heavier I'm still not overweight, but it's tough to look in the mirror or try to get dressed for a night out and about and not feel gigantic.

The hardest part about all this is the boobs. They are everywhere.

I'm serious now. I'm sure you're thinking to yourself, oh, poor thing. Actually, I spent the last 29 years bemoaning the fact that I just wasn't stacked and I never would be. Well, it sure isn't what it's cracked up to be.

So, I can't find anything to wear. The style of clothes I'm used to wearing, well, I just can't pull it off anymore. I've been on the lookout for one good summer dress for months, but I just haven't found anything, so I decided to fall off the wagon. I went shopping for one, all-purpose, magic dress. A dress I could wear to the movies and to a few weddings. A dress I could wear Saturday night and Sunday Morning.

Let me tell you, old habits are hard to break, because my first stop was Forever. But boy howdy, did I have a revelation.

I am too old to shop at Forever Twenty One.

I was walking around picking through the cheap and poorly made dresses, cringing at the too loud teeny bopper music blaring through the speakers when I looked up and saw three girls, maybe 15 in their short-shorts looking at the same dress I had just added to my try-on pile. Honest to God in that second I had an epiphany. I handed the items I'd picked out to the nearest sales girl and got the hell out of there. I'll say it again, I am too old to shop at Forever Twenty One.

Armed with this new self awareness I began my search anew. I went to every shop in the mall; Banana Republic, Ann Taylor, J.Jill (yikes!), etcetera. I tried on, maybe forty dresses, and didn't find what I was looking for. Slightly deterred by the high prices and the depressing old lady fit of just about everything I tired on I finally made my way to Macy's. I'd been putting it off just because the Macy's in downtown Chicago is something like seven stories high and I was a bit overwhelmed.

At Macy's I tried on dress, after dress, after dress until I found it! It's perfect! I wore it to dinner last night and I love it! Though I need to take the straps up just a bit because- hello boobs! The only problem- real, grown-up not Forever dresses cost more than the $25 I'm accustomed to paying. But all these months of not buying anything I don't need and even then buying it used made me feel not one bit guilty that I dropped so much scratch on one dress.

Also, I can't believe I just wrote so much about shopping. Summary in case you skipped right to the end; I'm too old to go around dressing like a skank, and I found the perfect dress, here it is:

P.S. It looks better on me than it does on this skinny mannequin with the bad posture.

Goodness, doesn't it always seem to rain on the Fourth of July?

A little drizzle didn't stop us from enjoying the day, and I learned something new about Josh- he is quite the trampolinesman. (I just made that word up btw) I always wanted a trampoline when I was a kid, but we never had one and I never knew anyone who had one. Josh had one, and he's still fearless!

I'd have liked to have taken more pictures, but I spent a large part of the day digging around in the huge garden and picking tons of juicy golden raspberries, tiny black raspberries and a few just-ripe red raspberries. We were sent home with a tub full of gorgeous, organically grown berries. Find out what I did with all these berries on the 'Eats' page, or just click below.

Continue Reading Raspberry Tart

I turned a pint of berries into a delicious raspberry tart inspired by this post on Annie's Eats, Fresh Fruit Tart with Vanilla Pastry Cream.

I stuck pretty close to the recipe, though I left out the apple jelly glaze. It is perhaps less aesthetically pleasing, but I didn't want anything interfering with the amazing berries.

Everything about this dessert is delicious, the pastry cream is rich but not too sweet, the crust almost tastes like a sugar cookie and they really let the fresh fruit be the star here. My only complaint is that the crust is steadfastly stuck to the pan, making it almost impossible to serve a slice intact. Next time I make this tart I'll do a little research and see what can be done about that.

Campari is a type of bitters, an alcoholic aperitif obtained from the infusion of bitter herbs, aromatic plants and fruit.

I love a Campari and soda; tart, refreshing, cringe wotrthy if you are my brother-in-law...

But, it's Sunday. And I love champagne on Sundays.

See, I don't just love Champagne, I also love Champagne cocktails. Mimosa, Kir Royale, Black Velvet, but especially especially the classic Champagne Cocktail.

A Champagne Cocktail is simple; champagne, Angostura Bitters and sugar. This morning I was feeling very bubbly, so I whipped up a little Sunday morning cocktail; champagne, sugar and a splash of Campari in place of the bitters.

Lovely.

Josh and I had a pretty low key holiday weekend- we didn't mean to, but, well I'll spare you the details, but we started off the three day weekend with some cold beer and shrimp fajitas and well, that whole plan backfired on us.

Since we were sick on Friday, we took it pretty easy on Saturday, which left Sunday wide open- no recovery needed.

I am definitely a "kick" type of person, I'll get in the mood for something and I'm all about it until I'm not anymore.

And I'm feeling very into Campari right now.

Continue Reading Campari Love

The beach! I've lived here for almost a year and until last Saturday never made it down to the beach.

My mom is from Jersey, and she is a water baby- though she chose to make her life in Colorado she always misses the water. I, conversely, am a mountain baby. I drive along the beach everyday and was never really compelled to get my feet wet.

After breakfast at the Lincoln Park farmer's market we made our way down to the beach- and I finally "got it." I was looking forward ot spending my day off today down in the sand, baking in the sun- with lots of sunscreen- but the weather had other plans.

After being foiled by thunderstorms and our own habitual tardiness we finally made it to a concert at Ravinia- Indigo Girls last Friday- with my mom in tow.

We drank wine out of plastic tiki wine glasses and sand Galileo with our eyes closed.

We played rummy and ate a rotisserie chicken with our fingers.

Despite my shceming, she totally kicked my butt at both rummy and backgammon. I guess everybody has to lose sometime.

Last Friday my mom flew in to visit for the weekend. It was so nice to see her, but let me remind you that Josh and I live in a 2 story apartment with no doors or windows. That is, it can be difficult being on your best behavior for three days without a break.

Well Josh was wonderful- a trouper really. He picked my mom up from the airport and entertained her Friday; including taking her to Smoque- a restaurant she saw on a Food Network Show and wanted to try while she was in town. The airport-to-home-to-Smoque-to-home venture totaled three bus rides and three train rides; pretty natural for Joshy, but quite out of the ordinary for my rural/suburban/western mom.

Well, the first three hours of her visit were quite indicative of the weekend as a whole. It was busy, we ran all over town, we did some sightseeing, we ate at some amazing restaurants, we braved the crowds for the Harry Potter exhibit, and Josh was a perfect host the entire time, though I could tell he was plumb worn out by Sunday night.

Monday morning I left for work so the responsibility of getting my mom to the airport fell, once again, on Josh's shoulders, but he never complained.

On my way home from work Monday night I stopped to pick up a small thank you gift for him, nothing special, just a case of cold beer I thought he might like. When he saw it his face broke into a wide smile and he ran to the kitchen. He pulled an ice cold bottle of rum from the freezer and said he'd picked it up for me, thinking I might like a cool drink after such a long weekend.