Oh my word, BONUS BLOG, y’all. This post is brought to you by the letter P for Procrastination (last day of August, friends!), and by the number 11…meaning I’ve now resided in Chicago for that many years. So this month’s date was superbly special, as it highlighted things I reallyreallyreally love about this city. Let’s begin:
On Monday night of this past week, we had a mini date. (We didn’t think the full date would happen this month and decided to hedge our bets by, you know, hanging out and documenting it.) After putting the girls to bed, Peej retreated to the backyard for a REALLY long time. I finally wandered out and saw a sweet setup of our fire pit, some chairs, and the fixings for s’mores. But no pit-full of fire. ‘Cause one of us was having trouble getting the sucker to stay lit. After another one of us started an amazing fire (hint: IT WAS TOTALLY ME), we had a fabulous campfire date in the comfort of our own noisy and urban ‘hood.
However, P.J. had something else in store for that Wednesday night: after we got in the car, he handed me a photo scavenger hunt list. On it were all sorts of Chicago landmarks- you know, the kind we always send tourists and visiting pals to see, but rarely go play with on our own?
And he said we were being timed. And had to win. (I’m still not entirely sure if he was joking or if I won. I hope I at least placed.)
The first stop was at the famous totem pole on Recreation Drive. It was very dark. We kinda felt like
lurkers. And we may have startled the cyclist who ultimately offered to take our picture. (Nothing unusual about this scenario, folks! Just a married couple hanging out on a pitch black park trail! Move along!)
How do you beat that kinda photo opp? How about taking a pic at the oh-so recognizable Buckingham Fountain? A couple of notes: a) We never purported to be awesome at taking nighttime photos, and b) my look of alarm came when someone busted out the national anthem on a boombox. (I was unsure as to how I should’ve proceeded. Salute? Sing? Ignore? I went with the Hairy Eyeball. Very patriotic.)
Next up was saying hi to Artie, the lion(s) at the Art Institute’s front steps. He’s an old pal. But seriously. Don’t touch him. Just…don’t.
Kinda feel like we failed at taking the proper tourist photograph at The Bean- I mean, it’s nothing else if not a gargantuan selfie opp. But it’s much nicer to do during the day. Or at dusk. Or, again, with better picture-takers. Also? Hella fingerprints up in that joint. (Peej definitely added his own, but for seriously.)
We headed to one of my all-time favorite spots to get a wicked expensive drink: The Signature Lounge on the 96th floor of the Hancock Tower. And being a Wednesday night and all, there was no line for the elevator and no line for actual window seating. That may have had something to do, however, with the fact that Chicago was experiencing a fog straight outta a Dickens novel. See those white panels next to our heads? That was the reflection of the sheets of fog. The only view we saw that night was a very brave spider outside the window (as well as a couple heavily making out- one of whom may or may not have been a Russian prostitute- and some loud frat boys cheering each other on regarding something sporting).
My raspberry fizz was delightful, however, and P.J.’s Manhattan was (reportedly) tasty. The flourless chocolate cake also passed inspection (of my face).
Our last item on the scavenger hunt list was the old Water Tower. (Not the mall which houses American Girl Place, mind you. Just across the street. The place that used to hold the water and now holds a theatre.) And all I can say is- the electric bills must be astronomical up in that joint. Bright as a thousand suns.
Kinda like my love for this guy who keeps dating me all about town.
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