Chicago: Day 4

Me and a lifesize Woody made of LEGOS!

My mother and I woke up early and headed to Sally’s house (a friend of hers from College of DuPage).  We hung out at her house for a bit before she drove us to Downtown Chicago with her sister and two, beautiful, adopted children.  I sat on the couch and talked with Krista (who was an instant best friend because of the similarities of our names) and laughed out loud as Sally ran from room to room while holding a conversation with my mother… whom was sitting right next to me, “No- it’s okay… go on… just YELL- I can still hear you!”

After the ride into town (in which I learned –vaguely- how to operate a Nintendo DS), Mom and I practically lept from the van to the sidewalk as Sally and her family sped away to their next appointment (Chicago traffic can be murder).  The two of us happily scuttled from shop to shop, soaking in the downtown holiday splendor, and I never quite mastered the smooth transitioning from bitter cold streets to cozy holiday stores.   At one point, I became so overwhelmed at the feeling of being trapped indoors wearing my mini-sauna, that I threw my belongings to the ground at the top of the escalator and peeled one layer after another.  It was truly an ordeal.  Besides the straps of my purse, camera and camera bag locking me into this shenanigans, the zipper of my jacket got stuck!  

I love a good hybrid bus.  :)

Get it, Mom!

Mom humored my photo-taking obsession by taking me to Millennium Park, and we ended our downtown adventure at the Walnut Room in Macy’s (the old Marshall Fields).  The Walnut room is a nice restaurant located on the 6^th floor of Macy’s in which the waiters wear gloves, a fairy-princess sprinkles glitter on your table, and you sit around a HUGE, dazzling Christmas tree.  (People slink around the restaurant just to get a glimpse of it.)  Mom and I each ordered a bowl of Butternut squash soup, and it was simply DIVINE!  It would be difficult to rival the splendor of these creamy masterpieces, but our chocolate cakes tried pretty hard.

The Bean!

Butternut squash soup... mmmmm

Chocolate cake... double Mmmmm!

Our nice waiter took a pic of us at the Walnut Room.

The two of us had no trouble boarding the train back to West Chicago (except for the confusing fact that none of the trains were actually labeled), and Grandma and Grandpa picked us up in that trusty old van of theirs.

What a great day.  :)

Chicago: Grandpa-isms

Granpa-ism #1:

This afternoon, my grandfather leaned over and asked how much I weighed.  I looked at him a moment in wonder… 

“What is it?  About 120?”   

I paused again, “About 115 or so… That’s kind of a random question, Grandpa.”   

“Well… that’s about what your grandmother weighed when we got married- about 100lbs.”  I was trying to understand his point.  He continued, “Ya know, you could probably wear your grandmother’s dress if you wanted… ya know- for whenever you get married -if you ever decide to do that.  We’d be honored if you wore it.  Ya know, it’s not like the wedding dresses these days where everyone is showing their dignity- I don’t like that.  This is covered.  This is nice.”   

I nodded, but I’m not sure what brought this on.  I’m sure Grandma had no idea he had just offered her wedding dress away… I don’t know how she’d feel about it.

Grandpa-ism #2:

“Why would someone pick you to take their pictures?  Couldn’t they just do it themselves?  People pay you to do that?  …Why don’t you paint instead- wouldn’t people pay you to do that instead?  Maybe that’s your calling.”  

..Grandpa obviously doesn't think being a photographer is a real job.

Chicago: Day 2

This morning started with a brunch bigger than I’ve seen in quite some time.  After a short drive through the small towns West of Chicago (in which I noted several amazing shooting locales), my grandmother, mother and I arrived at a casino.  (They reward my grandmother with monthly complimentary meals for her “loyalty” to the establishment.)  My grandmother is a very lucky woman, so don’t feel too bad for her.  I piled my plate high with fruits, vegetables, 4 types of salmon, 3 types of cheeses, crackers, a lamb chop and bits and bobbles of this and that.  It was absolutely amazing and every piece of me was grateful for the culinary mastery I devoured at 10am.

We took a short stroll through the casino after breakfast and noticed that there weren't so many people manning the machines.  It took a minute for us to figure it out.  I mean- it was a weekend- it should be full.  Ahh yes... we chuckled as we realized the implications of Sunday morning.  :)

I can’t say the gambling scene is something I enjoy too terribly much.  Yes, I like games, and yes, I like to win- but money is something I get nervous to gamble away.  It surprises me a bit that all those bells and whistles are something my mom enjoys.  A few weeks ago, the meal at Buffalo Wild Wings had us on edge with dozens of simultaneous games playing on the big screens around the restaurant, but this day my mom commented, “the more sound effects the better.”  ::shrug::  I guess it’s the association of particular noises.

Chicago: Day 1

Today I arrived in Chicago. It has been nearly 4 years since I’ve visited my family up here, and I have been thrilled about the trip ever since my mom suggested it a few weeks ago.

To be honest,the flight was a touch less enjoyable than most of my air travel these days.  I had a middle seat (not aisle- middle) and felt incredibly claustrophobic with my feet tucked in close to me and unknown people wedged into my sides.  They seemed nice enough,  but I didn’t feel that the 2-3 hour flight was ample time to reach adequate comfort levels to use their shoulders pillow-style.  I tried hopelessly to fold my feet under me and use my knees as a headrest… but as I said- it was a hopeless attempt at sleep.

We arrived a bit late and my Uncle John, Aunt Shelley and Grandmother picked us up from the O’Hare airport.  We ate some classic beef sandwiches at Portillo's (a well-known restaurant up here in Chicago) and dropped our things off at Grandma and Grandpa’s house before heading out to visit with my Great Aunta Jeanne.   

Oh. my. gosh.  This woman never ceases to surprise me with the things that come out of her mouth.  She is 82 years old, has adopted children, an ex-husband, and countless stories of a strong woman and scorned lover.  She is constantly warning me to never let a man control my life, and gives me an idea or two on how to handle one if he ever tries to.  She has a box of blonde hair dye on the table and a painted paper bag of goodies from the little girl across the hall.  Aunta Jeanne is an onion of emotions and stories.