Things that are making me very happy at the moment.

The fact that we've gotten quite a bit of rain over the past few days, and everything is green and healthy. Oh yeah, and it's about 15 degrees cooler than normal right now. Freakin' sweet.

This dadgum dog.

Would you PLEASE look at her sweet face?! I just can't stand it sometimes. She is such a sweetpea.

Whole Foods Market's 365 brand popcorn in a bag. Addictive.

The owl house that BH built and put in a tree in the back yard. The welcome lingo was my bit of customization.

The fact that my pre-beach pedicure still looks pretty damn awesome.

Oh and last but not least...MY NEW CAR!!

Holy crap, I'm excited about this little number. As of right now, it's got 21 miles on it, 15 of which I put on it today. I've put the days of the gas guzzling (albeit, comfortable) Murano behind me. Viva la CR-V!

A funny thing happened on the way to the speech pathologist.

So for quite some time, The Geej has had difficulty with the "ir" sound. Heck, who am I kidding. She couldn't even make the "ir" sound, so "bird" was "bohd" and "Earl" was "Ohl" and "girl" was "guh-ohl." But recently, she discovered how to make the "ir" sound with a vengeance. Now she's pronouncing things that should have the "or" sound with all "ir" all the time.

For instance, the if this sentence--"My horse just walked out the door on its way to the store for a corn dog."--were said by the Geej, it would sound like this: "My hearse just walked out of the dir on its way to the stir for a kern dog." It's comedy, people.

Crazy is as crazy does.

I guess if I had to drive a cab around Chicago all day, I’d be insane too. Case in point: Two out of the two cab drivers we had last night were clearly nuts.

Cabbie #1 was a Middle Eastern man who spazzed when we told him we were from Texas. “I LOVE Texas women. One day, I will marry one.” We told him our friend Genie who was with us is single, and he started saying, “Is she hot? Is she a hot Texas lady? I will come down to Texas and marry her.” Then he started warning us not to open up our purses in the neighborhood he was taking us to (a swanky part of the River North entertainment district…not exactly cut-throat alley) and that he would come back and get us when we were done with dinner. Just circle and circle until we came out. Yeah, it was creepy.

Cabbie #2 was an Indian fellow from New Delhi. His opening gambit? Asking, “Do they eat frogs at that restaurant? Have you eaten frogs?” (to which Jaye replied “Yes,” of course). That opening question naturally led to, “Have you drunk the blood of the cobra?” which is apparently for sale in most Indian markets. (Thankfully—and rather surprisingly—Jaye has yet to indulge in this gastronomic adventure.) He ended by telling us a tale about how, once in Saudi Arabia, he’d asked a woman where he could find the washroom, and she called the police, who explained to him that it is against Muslim law to ask a woman such a crude question, and that if he’d been Muslim, instead of Indian, he would’ve been arrested for such an act. His take on the situation? “It’s really stupid in Saudi Arabia.”

Wow.

Of course, I've got much more to say about my very bittersweet trip to Chicago, but for now, I'm off to night-night land.

My wonderful view from the Oak Brook, IL Marriott yesterday. Uplifting, no?

And then today, the view from my room and the brand new Residence Inn at Dearborn/Hubbard in downtown Chicago. Much better.

Plus I get to look at this:

A big ol' mural of Harry Caray's head and famous humongous glasses. Ah...Chicago.

Where I was yesterday:

Where I'll be tomorrow:

The posting may be a bit sporadic as I venture up to my old stomping grounds for a couple of days of work. Haven't been there since 2004. Looking forward to it.

An exercise in humility.

• You go to Kohl's and buy two packs of long-overdue bikini underwear.
• Get them home, free them from their packaging, and throw them in the laundry.
• Once washed and dried, you look happily forward to wearing your new unders and throwing away several of your old unders that are riddled with holes.
• You pull on the first pair and realize that, oh holy Mother of God, they're not one, but TWO sizes too small.
• You catch a glimpse of yourself in the bathroom mirror wearing these too-small unders.
• You quietly take them off and throw them away.

(Luckily, only one package was the wrong size...and I SWEAR, I double checked to make sure they were the right size before purchasing. But still...)