My parents got me a Labrador when I was 9-years-old. I was supposed to get the puppy when I was 10. However, as soon as I turned eight, I asked for the pet every single night during dinner and eventually got a whole year knocked off (which was a big deal for someone who had only lived for eight).
A few days before I was supposed to pick out my puppy, my mom took me to FAO Schwartz. She had a plan. She showed me one of those massive stuffed animal dogs they used to sell; the ones with ears as big as your head and paws you could wrap yourself in. I instantly fell in love. I can still remember her conniving words at the store, “I’ll get you that stuffed animal,” she said while other wide-eyed kids walked by. “I’ll get you that stuffed animal right now, if you forget about the real puppy.”
This was a huge dilemma for me. I was 9. Do you know the type of impact life-size stuffed animals have on little girls? But I wasn’t going to fall for my mother’s trick. I wanted my Lab and I wanted her bad.
Harpo was a part of my family for 13-years and was the best thing that ever happened to my dad (I kid you not). She passed away the year after I graduated from college and we haven’t been able to consider another pet since.
Then I moved to North Carolina and met House. While working down south as a television news reporter I was constantly covering animal abuse stories and became extremely close with the director of Beaufort County Animal Control. One day she tipped me off about a raid they had made. About 60 animals were confiscated from a residence living in horrid conditions. She was calling to give me some information about the incident but also wanted to introduce me to someone.
House, was literally a house. He came up to my waste on all fours and probably weighed as much as I did. Just like that stuffed animal, I instantly fell in love. But House was never going to fit in my house. First, I didn't even live in a house, I had an apartment. Second, I worked crazy hours. Third, there’s no way I could afford the quantity of dog food that animal was going to inhale. Fourth, his poops would be massive to clean up. Fifth, do I even need a fifth after the fourth?
So, I gave House a giant hug and walked away, cursing myself the entire time.
However, I recently spotted a House look-a-like at an outdoor music concert in downtown Deerfield, IL and tried to make friends. He wasn’t as big and didn’t have as much charm but it was good to know that when I'm ready, other houses will be on the market.
My air conditioning isn’t working, but that’s not why I love living in Chicago.
I woke up in the middle of the night sweating. I got out of my bed and pushed my sofa as close to the window air conditioning unit as I possibly could. (For those of you who don’t know, the Midwest is currently experiencing a heat wave. To make matters worse, I live in an extremely old coach house with one wall unit).
Besides being extremely noisy, I don’t think the thing was properly working. I tried to fall back to sleep for an hour but mostly just rolled from one side to the other. So, I left the sofa and got back into bed.
I woke up this morning and decided to ditch my 88-degree apartment. But where should I go? I landed on my parent’s much more lavish couch and got to work. Not only was the central air blasting, my dad took me to lunch and treated me to this delicious piece of watermelon afterwards.
That’s why I love living in Chicago again…or at least so close to my parents!
I’m a city girl. Born and raised in downtown Chicago. There aren’t very many of us out there. I grew up in Lake View, on the corner of Broadway and Sheridan. That’s in walking distance of the Lincoln Park Zoo, Wrigley Field, North Avenue Beach and The Bagel!
Sure, you’ll meet a ton of people that say they’re from Chicago but then they’ll eventually fess about what suburb they’re from.
My freshman year of college a guy told me he was from Chicago. When I asked where? He responded, “Well, it’s not exactly in the city.” When I pursued the conversation, he confessed that he’s actually from Munster. Now folks, that’s in Indiana….not even the same state.
To be honest, I don’t really care where you’re from but I’d prefer a straight answer right off the bat.
After graduating from the University of Michigan I’ve lived in some pretty interesting places, well three to be exact: Rockford, Illinois. Greenville, North Carolina and now Deerfield, Illinois.
Since I get so annoyed by others that fib about their hometowns or current living situations, I try and be as honest about mine as possible. (In the midst of writing this I just remembered my current Facebook status reads Chicago, I’ve got to change that). I’ve been tempted to give an easier answer, since who in the world knows where Greenville is (Eastern Carolina baby! Go Pirates!!), but what fun would that be.
The Munster native totally blew it. Little did he know, I’ve got a grandma there and would have talked his hear off about it. Instead, I was frustrated and walked away.
I’m bored of meeting Chicagoians. I already know all about my city, now I want to know about yours!
I was headed home from a BBQ Saturday night when I decided I’d rather take a CTA bus home instead of a cab. Partly because it was about to pull up to the corner I was stationed at and partly because I had $1 to my name. When I mentioned this to the driver, he was kind enough to let me on for free.
I used to take Chicago public transportation all of the time. However, I’ve never hopped on at 1:30 a.m. I was shocked by how crowded it was and had to head to the back of the bus to find a seat.
Unlike the #36, which would have dropped me off a block away from my house, this bus started veering in another direction when it hit Diversey, so I got off. A young man, carrying a gigantic blue lawn chair, also got off.
We started walking, in the same direction, basically right next to each other. My obvious question was, “What’s with the lawn chair?” Mike was heading back from the Blues Festival, hence his large accessory.
A few blocks later I knew all the basics about Mike. His hometown, age, college, and job (I’m avoiding specifics if he ever happens upon my blog and kills me for including the details). So, when he asked if I’d like to grab a drink at a neighborhood bar, I decided to say yes. I’ve actually been trying to be more of a YES person lately and it’s working out well. He had to leave his lawn chair outside; it was too big for the bar.
Mike was nice, sweet, and respectful. When I mentioned I thought they were playing a Green Day song on the jukebox, he corrected me and said it was actually Oasis. But quickly added, the only reason he knew that was because Oasis is one of his favorite bands, second to U2.
When we walked out of the bar, Mike’s lawn chair was spread out. Someone had decided to grab a seat. I had to smile. That lawn chair got way more action than Mike was going to get that night. I said goodbye and walked home, laughing the entire time about my impromptu CTA date.
I know everyone thinks they’ve got the best mom in the world but I think my mother takes the cake (which is ironic since she happens to own a bakery).
A few weeks ago, I was having a really rough day and my mom knew it. Work, boys, life, everything was just rubbing me the wrong way and I was a little down (which many of you know doesn't happen all that often). That’s when I got a call from my mom, which happens about everyday. After basically rushing her off the phone, she blurted out that she just had one thing to say.
I can’t remember the conversation word for word but she wanted to make sure I knew how great I was. I know that sounds silly and childish but it worked. How many people in this world actually think you’re great, like literally, the best person out there? Unfortunately, not many, probably your mom…and maybe your dad on a good day.
But my mom thinks I’m wonder woman and expects me to conquer the world.
For example, whenever I get into a fight with someone, she thinks I’m right (I love that). Whenever we see a cute guy walking down the street or in a restaurant, she mentions she saw him checking me out (no joke, she honestly thinks that). Whenever we’re watching the news together, she says I could do a better job reporting it. I could go on and on here but I’m assuming you get the gist.
I know you might be thinking that’s a bit much, but why? As you grow older, you have to deal with a lot of rejection. People constantly telling you no in one way or another. So, what’s so bad about someone who constantly SCREAMS yes.
I know it’s not Mother’s Day, but I also know I don’t say this enough either. Mom…I love you too.
