I was in a show. It was produced, directed, emceed, and performed in by my friend Steph. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve talked about this show, but I was honored, thrilled, overjoyed, humbled, proud, and delighted to be a part of it. The videos from the show are online now. So I figured I’d post mine here but also link to the rest of them collectively and individually. And I wanted to say a little bit about everyone in the show, because everyone in the show was pretty awesome.
June was the first performance of the night and also the first of any of us to read when we first got together as a group, and about two seconds in I thought “Oh, crap, I can’t follow this!” June has this statuesque grace about her that would be completely intimidating if she wasn’t so down-to-earth, funny, and thoroughly nice. Also: jingle farts.
Upon our first meeting, I found everything about Heather to be fun and hilarious and carefree and endearing and edgy. Then her piece took these unexpected twists through sweet then heart-piercing territories. She made me cry and laugh every time she read.
Meagan is about 57 kinds of smart and cute. Whenever I would tell people what LTYM was all about, I’d start with her piece about yoga with babies. She just has this look about her as if she’s letting you in on life’s big joke and can’t wait to deliver the punchline. Her wit, though, radiates so much heart in every word. Continue reading “Listen to Your Mother”
The other day I discussed one of my favorite things about working in Chicago: walking. When I’m in the city (and when I say in the city, I always mean Chicago; it always makes me chuckle when people ask me to specify what city—it’s always Chicago) I don’t need a car. I don’t even really need a train, bus, or trolley. Lazy as I’m inclined to be, I enjoy walking anywhere I care to go.
So today I thought I’d put my town of residence to the walking test. Now, I used to live just a few blocks from Broadway in Chesterton. It’s not that much like Broadway in New York. It’s more like Main Street . . . everywhere. There are some shops, cafes, banks, a gazebo, and a train track that runs right along it, leaving maybe 25 yards between the road and the tracks for Chesterton’s attempts at culture to try and squeeze in. It’s quaint. I dig it. You can, in theory, just walk around the place and get everything most a lot of what you might need. Continue reading “Chesterton: My Kind of Town”
Today’s trivia comes with a playlist instead of some fancy shmancy verbosity (though verbosity is no slouch of a word). And the question should be easy, even though I had to look it up because I couldn’t remember it to save my life. But remembering things without looking them up is your job. Here’s the question:
Who was Marie Antoinette’s husband?
Now, enjoy today’s five-song playlist. Or don’t. (In case you can’t access the player, I’ll just tell you the songs:
“It Could Make You Cry,” Brett Dennen
“Send Me on My Way,” Rusted Root
“Going to California,” Led Zeppelin
“Heavenly Day,” Patty Griffin
“Maybe I’m Amazed,” Wings
Here’s what I like about working in Chicago: the walking. I like that if I need to go to the bank, I walk to the bank. If I want Starbucks, I walk to Starbucks. If I get hungry for deep dish, I don’t have to get in the car. I walk and exercise and breathe and enjoy every step on the way to stuffing my fat face full of pizza.
I also love that there’s pizza. And Portillo’s. And Big & Little’s. And I’ve never even been to Big & Little’s, but I hear it’s delicious. And Carson’s. And Tempo. And Chipotle. And Kiki’s Bistro. And Yolk. And Ben & Jerry’s. And Giordano’s. And Edwardo’s. And Uno. And Due. And Lou Malnati’s. And Gino’s East. And McDonald’s. And Go Roma. And Ann Sather. And other places.
And I don’t care if I’m saving the environment or working off calories or supporting local businesses. I just like the fact that I have a reason to walk. I like standing up and going and becoming a part of the city streets and using my legs for something other than preventing me from tumbling forward out of chairs. I like walks, especially walks that yield results. When those results are Chicago cuisine, I’m a happy fellow. And an ever so slightly less plump one.
Normally I’d do some kind of intro here. Then some pointed commentary. Then it would get really funny but nonsensical. I’d tie it all up with a line that can’t decide between sincerity, humor, and cryptic pontification.
Instead I’ll just ask a question because I’m kinda tired.
In what year did McDonald’s first serve the McRib?