Planes, trains, trolleys and Legos

Having Mrs. Jay here with us was ... well, not "awesome" because that word is a bit 90s, and not "cool" because it was cooler than cool, and not fabulous because only one woman can use that word legitimately without sounding like a drag queen. And dope, fresh, wicked, sick and tight are all a little juvenile. But whatever word means "like, the best time ever" should go here.

Wednesday we just chilled with a little deep dish and watched Nacho Libre - the first of three viewings, I might add. Thursday we went to a local farm that had potential, but fell so far short that I found myself mocking it, until I realized that it's run by developmentally disabled young people, at which point I felt terrible. But then I realized that someone who is not developmentally disabled probably runs the farm so there was no excuse for the dilapidated buildings and lackluster attractions. (Not to mention a train ride that features a turn through a barn filled with cleaning supplies and a half-painted mural.) So then I resumed my mocking. I feel good about it.

On Friday, despite a tornado warning and threat of hail, we took the kids downtown on the train. It was a roundabout excursion because we weren't really clear on our objectives, but once the rain stopped, and we figured out the free trolley system, we had an awesome - and you know how I feel about that word - time at the children's museum. I even purchased a membership there because isn't it only fair that Miss Dub get something with our stimulus payment? The only down point of the day came when a homeless woman cast a spell on Miss Dub. I can't be sure of the exact nature of the spell, but I hope it's something like, "Compelled to do homework on time" or "Cowlick-free hair." Still, it was weird to have a woman staring down my child in an eerie made-for-television way. But what's a downtown experience without a little voodoo?

Then on Saturday morning, the whole clan packed up and left for Mr. Jay's parents' house in a town that is - seriously - called Kankakee. And Miss Dub immediately burst into sobs and shouted, "My friends, my friends!" I didn't even know she knew that word, but I'm sure glad we've got some. We had a great time seeing the local sights with them, although I'm pretty sure if you asked the Jay boys what their favorite part of the trip was, they would say it was going to the Lego store at our mall. Hey, who doesn't love interlocking plastic?

Um, wow!

Holy crap!

Pardon my English, but that's all I can think to say after the Storm of the Century that hit Chicago yesterday.

The lightening was blinding, the thunder was deafening and the tornado sirens were frightening, but all I could think was, "It's a hurricane! Run for higher ground!" (Or is that for tsunamis? I'm always confused about my natural disasters.)

Mr. Dub had the pleasure of driving us home in middle of the downpour. Let's just say we won't be going to the car wash any time soon as the torrential rain cleaned our car like a dishwasher.

It was scary, it was amazing, it was annoying. Because while it was the worst storm in the history of history, it was about the 23rd storm this month ... and most of them like to hit around 3 a.m. with such force that sleeping is not an option. (Unless you're Miss Dub, thank goodness!)

I mean, Arizona Augusts are always stormy, but at least those clouds are kind enough to finish up before midnight.

Weather can be so rude.

Luckily we never lost power, weren't flooded, didn't get stranded and are, you know, alive. But the forecast calls for rain all day so any of that could change.

Guy!

What's the worst storm you've ever been in?


(This one ties with a huge microburst I saw in Hawaii as a kiddo. The Polynesian Cultural Center never saw it coming!)

For Your Edification

I feel a clarification is in order.

For the record, I HEART Chicago.

I don’t just like Chicago.

I don’t just endure Chicago.

I don’t hate Chicago.

I loOove Chicago so much I would make-out with it and there would be frenching involved.

But I don’t want to live here forever. And I think that’s OK.

Because I can love Chicago for what it is (a beautiful, vibrant, cultured city) and still not like things about it (i.e. the winter and any darn thing I don’t care for, so sue me).

Part of the reason you might think I don’t HEART Chicago is because Chicago was never meant to be home. Chicago was supposed to be an amazing 1-2 year adventure, where Mr. Dub would get his master’s of smarty pants, and I would explore the city when not heavy with child. We would savor every last bit of our urban life, only to pack up and head back to western suburbia when our time was done.

But two days shy of our western voyage, we ended up staying here. And while we traded our $100-a-month parking space for a piece of the ‘burbs, we’re still 30 minutes from the Magnificent Mile. And nearly four hours on plane from anyone who shares our genetic composition.

Which is OK … for now.

Just this past weekend we headed downtown and joined the throngs at Millenium Park celebrating the Blues Festival. We dined with a close family friend and walked around the city in late summer sunlight. It was fun. It was invigorating. It made me HEART Chicago all over again.

And not a day goes by that I don’t drive my dearest to work and remark on the sheer beauty of the tree-lined street and its lush canopies. Chicago may be a city, but we’re still the Midwest, which means there are forests a’plenty and scenic farmscapes mere minutes from The Loop.

(To be honest, Arizona looked a little dirty to me when I was visiting. And I double-HEART Arizona.)

But in the winter here, not a day goes by that I don’t complain about the cold, gray look of leafless trees, salted roads and dull skies. That I don’t lament the fact that I have to lug Miss Dub around in negative temps. That I don’t try my darndest to figure out just what you’re supposed to do with your ankle-length down coat and six additional layers once you get inside the grocery store.

And I miss my family. I miss my friends. I miss the West and its spirit.

But that doesn’t mean I’m not making friends out here, that I’m not happy where I am, that I’m not treating Chicago as a permanent destination and not just some stopping point on my life road map.

I enjoy it.

I treasure it.

I HEART Chicago because Chicago is home … for now.

And when it’s not, that will be OK, too.

I’ll just open my HEART to some place else.

Just thought you should know.