11 o'clock Tick Tock

On the 11th day of the 11th month, at the 11th hour, it is time to take a moment and thank those that served our country and those that continue to serve our country. Though taking just a moment doesn't seem like enough time to thank these men and women.

On a day like today, I think of those who sparked a revolution. Those who fought for emancipation. Those who stormed the beaches. Those who who took to the air. Those who trudged through the jungles. Those who stormed the desert. Those who sacrificed everything so that we can live in a country that promises us life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Those who made this a land of the free and a home of the brave. Those who made this the place that welcomes the huddle masses yearning to breathe free.

It is because of them, that we all live the lives that we do - free and able to effect change. To honor them, we should take more than just a moment to remember. But for today, this Veteran's Day, let us especially take this moment to say thank you.

Special thank you to my Grandpa Dean, my Uncle Riggy, my dad and my friend Jimmy for their service (and continued service). I am proud to the be the daughter, granddaughter and great niece of a veteran. I am proud to be the friend of a career navy man. God Bless You All. God Bless America.

August and Everything After

Pardon my inadvertent sebatacle. For the last few weeks (okay, months), I feel like I have been running in circles with no direction. Since my last post, there have been birthdays and weddings and baseball and football and playoffs and work and life hasn't seemed to slow down. And it has been awesome and exhausting simultaneously.

My apartment looks like a tornado went through it and all I am left with is clutter, piles of laundry (clean and folded, just never seem to get it put away) and recycling. For a long stretch, I was coming home, changing clothes and bags and leaving again. Never really getting a moment of quiet. And in aiming for the quiet and, let's be honest, my tivo, I have stayed up later and later these days.

And none of this sounds like a problem, I realize, but in a way it is. Because, as busy as I have been, as much fun as I have had and as many stories I now have to tell, there is still something missing.

A long time ago, my best friend talked to me about my lack of dating and she asked me if I was lonely. And I, in my single snobbery, laughed her off (she has always been a serial monogamist) and told her boldly that I wasn't. I had family and friends and an apartment and a job I loved and no curfew and I was free to do what I wanted and all was great. What more could a person want?

And yet, the older I get and the more cynical I become (and I hate that I am in fact becoming a bit cynical), the more I realize that I am lonely. I am surrounded by wonderful people and yet I don't have that person. And while the feminist in me refuses to define myself by another, the romantic in me knows that another only enhances my self.

Slowly but surely, all the people in my life are finding their missing piece and more and more the invitations are piling up. And I love it. I love that the people most important to me are finding happiness. I just wish I knew how to find it for myself. Better yet, I wish I knew how to find it.

I know, I know. I written this all before. I just wonder when I am going to stop writing it.

And in case you are wondering what I have done since I last wrote, here it is...

• Attended 8 Cubs games (including my first playoff game, which was gut wrenching - though I still cried a bit when they presented the flag).
• Attended my first college football game in seventeen years.
• Attended my first Bears game in the new stadium, as well as my first home opener and my first tailgate.
• Celebrated my 31st birthday (or, as I like to call it, "the 10th Anniversary of my 21st Birthday").
• Attended 2 weddings - 1 in Vermont, which led to my first trip there, as well as my first trip to Boston.
• Celebrated multitudinous birthdays - including Nat's, which involved a hula hoop and pin the tail on the donkey.
• Paid off the computer on which I am currently writing.
• Watched almost 2 seasons of Without a Trace from Netflix - obsessed with it as Jen is obsessed with The Wire.
• Lost the dog that I have had since I was 13. (That was heartbreaking).
• Tried to negotiate Ken Griffey Jr. coming to the Cubs - offered him $10,000, a box of Cracker Jacks, a Super Rope and a place to stay while he was getting settled in Chicago. This was while I was sitting first row for the first time at the Cubs game.
• Met a few potential guys who never called. (That is a post in and of itself).
• Dealt Texas Hold 'Em at a charity Casino Night.
• Finally watched (and subsequently returned to Netflix) The Illusionist, which I had at home since March 6. That might be my new record for slacking on a movie. (By the way, it was a great movie!)
• Bought my bridesmaid dress for my sister's wedding and only cried a little.

And when that was all said and done and my beloved Cubs were out of the playoffs and the temperature dropped so that I had to wear shoes with toes all week long, I rested and unwound. Which is what I am about to do now.

P.S. I dedicate this post to Jen G., who has probably given up on me when it comes to posting, but will be proud of me nonetheless.

I'm not sleeping

Once again, I have taken a few weeks off and am feeling remorseful. Kind of like the guy who said he'd call and never did. Maybe he meant to call, but now it’s been too long and the window of opportunity has passed. Right now, I’m that guy.


For days, I had a certain song trapped in my head. This is my attempt at an exorcism.

Desperation – Why, oh, why are there ants in my apartment? Where are they from? Seriously. Last summer, they were there every so often. This summer, they seemed to have made it their home. It is unnerving. I have sprayed the baseboards with Raid – the 30-Day kind. I don’t leave food out, but still I see them. 1 in the living room. 1 in the bathroom. 1 on my bedroom floor. 2 even came to work with me last week. I am irked. I am also wondering what the building exterminator that visited and worked on every apartment 2 weeks ago did, because, whatever it was, it didn’t work.


Dislocation - What’s with the waving? I worked at the bar all weekend and was subjected to people in groups constantly waving to get my attention. Usually, waving to me while I was A) in the middle of serving 5 other customers, B) in the middle of doing every dish in the bar or C) carrying cases of beers to re-stock the coolers. At no point was I standing around eating bonbons. At no point was I standing around drinking a beer, which is what the other bartender was doing. Which exacerbates the situation a bit more…why weren’t they waving at him?

Separation – I worked on Saturday afternoon and therefore missed being with my sister on her birthday. I worked Friday night and missed calling her at midnight. She missed being home to sign for her present on Friday. All in all, I just missed her this weekend! Hope that she had a wonderful birthday!

Condemnation – The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting the same results. Sometimes, in the dating ring, I think we forget that.

Side note, I remember being a 20-something and dating the 30-year olds. Why is it now that I am a 30-year old, I am perplexed that the guys my age are dating the 20-somethings? It seems like the proverbial “what goes around comes around.” And since the 40-year olds seem to be dating the 20-year olds too, why can’t I go for the 20-something guy? I mean if Demi did it, why can’t I?

Revelation – As of July 2008, I will be the last one standing -- the last un-married person on either side of my family. (Well, at least until 2 of my cousins finalize their divorces). It is a little daunting. If you had asked me at 10 or at 23 if I would be on the verge of the 10th Anniversary of my 21st birthday and still not married, I would’ve emphatically disagreed. And yet, here I stand. Part of me really wants to be married and part of me is glad that I haven’t settled yet. My sister teases me about my late nights and crazy stories and tells me that I am regressing a bit. That may be true, but I would easily trade a late night of drinking for a movie and a walk for ice cream. I just don’t think I am willing to settle for just anything.

I want the crazy relationship my parents have. Where they have a date night on Saturdays and spend a lovely Sunday afternoon at Costco. Where the little weirdo things my mom does makes my dad just shrug and smile a bit and say, “yep, that list-writing, slightly (well, really totally) anal-retentive, kind of bossy, completely lovely lady is my wife.” Where the little weirdo things that my dad does makes my mom just shrug a bit and say, “yep, that guy wearing a dirty baseball hat, napping in the chair, snoring louder than a chainsaw, completely caring guy is my husband.” I don’t believe in a lot of dating rules. I think if you like someone you tell them. There shouldn't be a strict protocol for things. I don’t believe in telling someone how they should or should not act. I don’t believe in molding someone into what I want them to be. I do believe in finding the person that will be my partner-in-crime and my best friend. And until then, this cheese stands alone.

In Temptation – Sometimes, I just want to do the wrong thing. Kiss the wrong person. Go after the wrong guy. Go out on a work night and stay out too late and call in sick. Every now and then, I want to stir up some trouble.

Isolation – Being single in the city is fun, until your toilet decides to flood your bathroom. And you are mopping the bathroom mostly not dressed. And you are buying a plunger, because you can’t imagine that you don’t own one. (Actually, Tom came along for that part, and it was nice to have some company.) And you are plunging the toilet hoping to holy hell you know what you are doing. And then you have fixed the problem and there is no one there to celebrate the mini-victory.

Desolation – It seems that though we keep getting rain, my plants aren’t benefiting. If I forget to water them just 1 day, they get limp and mopey. I missed a few days last week and my cilantro looked thoroughly depressed. It’s hard to cultivate foliage. I mean, heck, I don’t remember to drink enough water for myself.

I just wanna say something worthwhile

Writer's block has been prohibiting me from posting the last few days. It seems that my head has been filled with everything and nothing. Rather than go missing again, I made the executive decision to post a few random things that I have been thinking.

Almost a week ago, Mr. Wizard died. My desire to craft a fitting tribute to the man who essentially fostered my love of science seems to have been the start of my writer's block. I couldn't find the right words.

When I was little, science was my thing. I wanted to be an astronaut. I wanted to conduct experiments. I wanted to invent things. I loved it all.


Mr. Wizard's show fueled that passion. He took science and made it reachable for me. He made it easy to understand and fascinating to learn. I wanted to be one of the kids on the show conducting experiments with him. I wanted to be like him when I grew up.

And so, when I heard of his passing, I was saddened. He was truly a teacher to many and he will be missed.

Other random things...

* I started watching Sex in the City reruns again, mostly because I miss it. I miss its intelligence, brashness and relatability. Because, while the characters may have been to the extreme at times, every woman can say she has a little Samantha, Carrie, Charlotte and Miranda in them.

* A hula-hoop, swim goggles, water wings and a stoop can make for a perfectly acceptable (if not completely fun) Saturday night.

* How is it that one of my closest friend's in college had another baby (well, he didn't, but his wife did) and I missed the entire pregnancy? Why do I feel like I can never keep up? (And on that note, congratulations Tom and Amie - he is absolutely beautiful)!

* Speaking of never keeping up, why do I always have dishes in my sink - though I swear I am not home enough to cook, clothes on my bathroom floor and books strewn everywhere? (Not to mention a broken TV in my living room that has been there for 8 months). I am so cluttery.

* Finally, my friend from high school writes fantastic reviews of the music world and he joined the blogging scene a while ago. (And in keeping me my falling behind theme, I have been meaning to link to him for ages). That being said, I am added him to my links: http://the-screen-door.blogspot.com/. I know you will all enjoy it!

Frak That

I am a messy girl. I would like to believe that I have a place for everything and I think I do, but like my mind, my apartment is a bit cluttered. Still, if something was moved, I would know it. My chaos has some semblance of order.

My sister is the yin to my yang (or the Frick to my Frak as my Dad used to call us). She is neat and orderly; organized and detailed; a planner and a saver. So, when she came home at lunch for a ham sandwich (as opposed to me who was probably eating out again) and to load her dishwasher (we won't even talk about my dishes) and saw her front window missing, she knew something was wrong.

She called her fiancé and the police and they all entered the apartment together and confirmed her fears - she had been robbed. The perpetrator was slow and methodical. He (sorry for the sexist assumption) rifled through her dresser drawers, her jewelry box and even her refrigerator.

He stole her digital camera with her Mother's Day photos still on it, her DVD player, all her movies, her Ipod, her jewelry, some clothes and her beer. To add insult to injury, he used her luggage to take out his haul.

I go on record as saying I hate this guy. I hate him for violating her home. I hate him for invading her life like this and taking away her security. I hate the 500 miles that separated us and made me unable to reach out and hug her when she told me the story. I hate that I can’t protect her and spare her from this.

Now, my sister will be the first to read this and get mad at me. She will protest my view of her and for the millionth time, remind met that is 27, has lived on her own for 9 years and that she is engaged. I know all this. Sometimes, I think she is more of a grown up than I am. She has handled this with the intelligence, grace and beauty that she possess and with which constantly amazes me. And yet as her big sister (chronologically), I want to beat up the bully that did this to her, hug her and take her for an ice cream.

Folsom Prison Blues

I have a million things to say about a million things from the last few weeks and I will get to all of them soon. However, I thought that I would comment on a little 'celebutante' (who knew that was a word) known as Miss. Paris Hilton.

Today, "A judge has ordered Paris Hilton returned to jail and she was taken from court screaming." (from www.nbc5.com)

Before I continue, I state the following:

1) I am not jealous of Paris Hilton – I think she is vacuous, wasteful and oblivious to the world around her.
2) I do not wish to be Paris Hilton – While I would like her $$, I couldn’t stand living such an unfulfilled life.

I find Paris Hilton to be the annoying faux-celebrity that just doesn’t go away. She offers nothing important to society – except for her advocacy of small dogs and weird pets. She has all the money in the world and she does nothing to make it a better place. Imagine if Paris sent her clothing budget for a year to help in the Sudan or Darfur or for a woman’s shelter or for a soup kitchen. Imagine what she could do if she attempted to be a contributing member of society. But she doesn’t even try. Instead, she lives “The Simple Life.”

Now, most days, I wouldn’t even bother with a Paris Hilton. I don’t look for her on a red carpet. I don’t watch her and Nicole make fun of local people who work for a living. I don’t even want to stay in a Hilton anymore. Most days, I don’t even care what she does. Except for the days when she breaks the law. Because, here’s the thing, money doesn’t put you above the law. Just ask Michael Jackson, Robert Downey Jr., Ken Lay, Jeff Skilling, Martha Stewart, etc… The only thing that money buys you is a good defense team.

I thought that it was great that a judge sentenced her to prison. Not because the little pampered girl was going to have to eat turkey-bologna on white for lunch (though, admittedly, that was an added bonus), but the sentence was appropriate to the infraction.

And let me side note for a quick second and ask this: Why the hell does the Hilton heiress ever find cause to drive drunk? You have billions! Hire a driver! Rent a helicopter! Hell, take a damn taxi! But, she didn’t. More than once, she didn’t. And because she didn’t, she found herself getting sentenced to 45-days in prison. (Personally, I think her mom should’ve joined her, given her completely disrespectful outbursts within the courtroom. Like mother, like daughter, I guess).

Let’s be honest, 45 days in prison sucks, but it is only 45 days. And really, she only had to do half of it. And when she was done, she could return to her vacuous life and have a great story to tell all the girls at the club. I think had she served her time Martha-style, we would’ve all gained a smidge of respect for the girl. Instead, she faked a cramp (I am only speculating) and got the sheriff to send her home early – 20 days early. Much to the chagrin of the judge who sentenced her.

Which brings us to this morning’s shenanigans in the courtroom, culminating in Paris getting led out, kicking and screaming her way back to prison.

Part of me feels bad for her, because nothing in her life has prepared her for this. Part of me wonders (thanks to my lovely, empathetic and sweet sister), whether this isn’t an over-punishment. Part of me is glad that a judge treated her like any other person. All of me hopes that there is a moral to this story.

On the right side of life...

Several years ago, I was looking for a new apartment. It was to be my first one-bedroom and I was looking for a diamond in the rough, as much as I was looking forward to the possibility of no roommates. I searched high and low for a new apartment and finally found what I was looking for (shameless U2 reference, sorry).

After viewing the place and gathering the paperwork, I walked back to my car. I called my friend Tif to tell her all about my potential new home. As I walked around to the driver's side to get into my car, I realized that a huge chunk of my front end was missing. It seems that my parked car was the unfortunate victim of a clipping violation called on a rental truck. I was lucky that the driver of the truck left a note. Believe me, that is a rarity. I took some pics of the car (my dad made me, just in case) and called the number on the note.

The gentleman who hit my car was shocked that I wasn't angry. I told him, there wasn't any point to getting mad. The car was already damaged. I was just grateful that the person who hit the car was honest and left a note. He was surprised by my reaction. Which is sad. Why do we let ourselves worry, get frustrated and angry over things that have happened or those things that are out of our control? What good does it bring?

In that regard, what do you do when you sleep through your alarm and miss your flight? A flight destined for sunnier climates, relaxation and fun with friends? And the standby list is long? And you waited in the airport for nothing? And your luggage is en route on the vacation you are supposed to be taking, because it didn't have to fly standby? Get angry? Why? Its too late to change the course of the day? I say embrace the hilarity of it all and move forward. Don't let the anger hold you back.
Kudos to T. for doing just that. In the face of a vacation missed, he came up with these little bits of joy...

1) I have a $299 travel voucher. (Sucks that I had to pay $399 to get it…)
2) Long Term parking only cost me $6. (This almost cancels my loss on the travel voucher)
3) I will not be discovered by a Hollywood agent and let success go to my head.
4) I will not break my neck surfing; Probably wasn't going to surf, but now I can guarantee I won't.
5) I get to watch the Bulls tonight and the hockey game on Saturday and Monday.
6) My luggage is going on a great trip to the left coast. I hope it hooks up with a hot samsonite!

On a side note, upon returning home, T. realized that he had left his deodorant, gel and razor at home. So, he also gets to smell good and be clean-shaven this weekend as well. Which is another plus – at least for all of his friends.

Here’s to a weekend filled with the little bits of joy that make it all worthwhile.

Touching a hand, wondering why

Do you know where you were on February 28, 1983? If you were of TV viewing age, you were probably watching the final episode of MASH. Watched by 125 million people it is the most watched episode of a television series history – at least according to my trusty Wikipedia. Throughout its 11 years, we grew to know the people that made up the 4077 and that 2 ½ hour episode gave us the chance to say “Goodbye, Farewell and Amen” to them.

Similarly, I remember watching the series finale of Family Ties. I remember Alex getting ready to move away from home for his first big job. I remember the packing and the crying. I remember tearing up a bit as we watched the actors come out for their final bows. It was a bit strange to say goodbye to a family that I felt like I had grown up alongside.

As I have gotten older, I have said a lot of TV goodbyes. To Cheers, Dawson Creek, 90210, Friends, Seinfeld, Sex in the City, West Wing…some stayed a bit too long, some left a bit too soon. Each one, though, gave me a finale. An ending. A culmination to all the years I had spent with them. Through the years, I saw Diane come back and each character impart one final quip or one last word of wisdom. I saw Joey and Pacey get together and Dawson write his movie. I saw David and Donna finally get married. I saw George, Jerry, Kramer and Elaine end up in prison, contemplating their lives and their impact. I saw Monica and Chandler get their babies, Ross and Rachel reunite and Joey go after his dream (too bad his dream was another bad sitcom). I saw Mr. Big a.k.a John (the only time his name is mentioned in the series) come to his senses and win Carrie back, Miranda become a loving caretaker, Charlotte get a baby and Samantha have a relationship. I saw the dawning of a new regime and a new President. For each show, I saw the end the way I had always thought it should be. I saw everything wrap up.

Thus, this recent trend of canceling long running shows with no pomp, no circumstance, no warning is killing me a bit. Not renewing the Gilmore Girls and Crossing Jordan left me with episodes that seemed like they were trying to tie up loose ends, but without enough time. While they were series finales, they felt like season finales. (The Gilmore Girls cast didn’t know the show was canceled until after they had shot the final scenes). Crossing Jordan had people just on the brink of new beginnings, but there seemed to be so many more possibilities. It seemed like it ended too soon.

And now, my Veronica Mars is gone. One of my favorite shows of the last few years and the only one I really look forward to every week. It was witty. It was fast. It was smart. It was sassy. It was doomed. And what of it now? Next week’s season finale is its series finale? To be honest, I had an inkling it was coming. The writing was on the wall. My favorite TV site, Spoiler Fix, said it might happen. But I kept holding out hope. I tried to believe that the stupid CW wouldn’t think that The Search for the Next Pussycat Doll was quality television. I hoped that they would want people to tune in for more than Beauty and the Geek and Friday Night Smackdown. I was wrong.

And now, one of the best and brightest shows out there is ending. Where is my buildup? Where is my countdown to the finale? Where is my goodbye, farewell and amen?

Back in the ring

I originally started this early-April...just finally came back and finished it. I'm back. I promise. The benefit is over with and the final details are getting wrapped up slowly, but surely. My Y-Me race goal is taking a serious hit this year, because I have played every fundraising card I had. It is only a bummer, because I realized that this year is our 10th Anniversary of doing the race. Thought that I would be a lot more fantastic. On a good note though, my dad is officially joining us this year, as is Deb's fiance and a bunch of cousins. The team will be bigger than it has ever been and that is completely exciting to me.

I am not quite sure where the month of April went, but it is now May 1st and I have been away for awhile. I apologize for that, think that my brain and body needed a break.

I went to Cleveland for Easter. I have family there and Jason's family lives there. This was the blending of the families Easter celebration. Except for the fact that it snowed for 2 straight days, it was wonderful. Who thought that Easter would bring 2 feet of snow?

The weekend was a flurry of activity and tradition. We had lentils on Friday and made Italian sausage (only 20 lbs.) and dyed Easter eggs. On Saturday, we baked 4 (yes, I said 4) Lamb cakes and a batch of kolachkies. It was a wonderful weekend.

After the weekend, I headed home and to the bar for the annual Opening Day celebration. I love that it is baseball season, just wish that it would stay warmer and that the Cubs would do better. Seems that it is always my hope in the month of April.

At any rate, I am back. Sorry to all for the vanishing act. I promise to be back for awhile.

You Find Daylight

Sorry that it has taken awhile for me to write this, but I think for once in my life, I might have been struck speechless. A few weeks ago, we thought that we would try and organize something for JC. We hoped that we could get a bit of money together for her son – our pipe dream was $5000. We wanted to remember and honor her life and offer something to her family. It became so much more than that.

The five of us, all fundraising novices, morphed into benefit planners as the outpouring of generosity and support grew to astronomical proportions. Suddenly, our raffle prizes became Silent Auction items and we had a need for a full staff of people.

People have asked us how we were able to put this together in two weeks. Honestly, we have no idea. I think it came together so beautifully, because we believed in the cause and because we are all blessed to have so many amazing people in our lives.

The five of us knew what we had signed up for (well, sort of), but throughout the planning and execution of the event, there were countless others who selflessly gave of their time and resources because they wanted to help. From soliciting businesses, making flyers and banners, organizing prizes, setting up, taking donations, tending bar, running the auction, announcing the raffles, playing the bagpipes, and cleaning up at the end, so many came together to execute the event perfectly.

And really, that’s what the night was – perfect! It was the perfect blend of friends and family in support of a beautiful cause. It was the perfect representation of the very best of our neighborhood and our bar. It was the perfect tribute to JC.

So, from the bottom of all of our hearts, we thank you for your generosity and your support. We are still getting the final numbers together, but in donations alone we met and exceeded our “pipe dream” almost four times over and that doesn’t include 2 ½ carloads filled with toys, clothes and books that were given to Blake directly.

Thank you to the entire staff of Guthries Tavern for working the event. Thank you to all of the regulars who showed up, asked what they could do and got straight to work. Thank you to the 75 companies who donated items to the event. Thank you to all of our friends and family who supported the event. Thank you to the entire neighborhood for their tremendous generosity.


Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.

--Margaret Mead--

Does anyone really know what time it is?

I am sorry again for my MIA-ness. I have been in full fundraising mode for the last week. The event is coming together better than any of us ever dreamed.

The weekend went by slowly, but fast simultaneously. We went to the funeral on Friday and it was a beautiful tribute to JC’s life. Her family each wrote and read a letter to her and it was nice to hear about the JC her family knew and loved.

Saturday, I went to watch the Xavier vs. OSU game. What a damn good game!! Bummed about the outcome, but it was more than I could have hoped for in a game. On Saturday, I was 3 OTs away from greatness – I took Xavier, Vandy and VCU. Risky and it almost paid off. Regardless, I am still the highest I have ever placed in my brackets and I am pretty proud of that.

After the game, we went to Howl at the Moon to listen to some music and celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. I successfully avoided the green beer, but did drink something that had leprechaun in it. I met up with Nat and Mel at Cullen’s for the evening portion of the celebration. All day I was a bit miserable, having forgotten to take my allergy pill and it only got more fun as day turned into night. My voice was a thing of the past by about midnight. Still waiting for it to decide to return.

On a side note, 8 days after we have sprung forward and the CTA Station at Sheridan still is an hour behind. I wonder, given their proclivity for running late, if they don’t ever spring forward, technically, they are always on time.

Save the Date

We are planning a fundraiser for JC's son at Guthries.

March 26, 2007 from 7 PM - 11 PM

Details to follow, but please keep the date open.

Also, if you know anyone that can help with donations, advertising or manpower in general, please let me know.

A fund has been established in her son’s name:

Blake Carlson Fund

c/0 Belvidere Bank

Thankful for another Manic Monday

I hadn't posted for a few days, because I didn't seem to have much to say. After this weekend, though, I am not even sure what to say. It is a funny thing, the weekend. Most of us in corporate America look forward to the weekend. By Wednesday, we are thinking ahead, wondering what fun the few days off have in store for us. By Friday, we are in our jeans and t's, thinking of happy hour, the movies, straightening our homes, seeing friends and family or looking forward to sleeping in and lazing around. This is how I was last week. Within an hour of being home though, it all changed.

After being on the L, that once again took forever to get me home, I changed clothes and walked to the bar where I work on Friday nights. Nat had been sick all week and I was looking forward to seeing her and all my neighborhood friends and embarking on a weekend of fun. When I got to work, I found out that 2 of my friends had been struck by a car crossing the street on their way to the bar. Police and an ambulance were still outside the bar and witnesses were recounting all that had happened. I was shocked by it all.

Thankfully, while one had an overnight stay to treat a concussion, both were okay, spared from the worst of it. As the night wore on, I worked. It was really all I could I do. The bar was slow and JC, the other waitress that night, and I uttered the words, "I'm so bored" throughout the evening. It was all so very normal.

At the end of the night, we sat and did our closing work. Cleaning tables. Counting money. Entering in the Log. Tipping out. All so very rote. JC and I chatted about the Southside parade, she had been gathering flair for the event all month. We speculated about the crazy drunk people that would be out on St. Patrick's Day next weekend. She was newer to the bar and was going to work her first St. Patrick's Day. I warned her about the chaos that would most definitely ensue.

A bit later, she talked to her friends, who had come to visit her this weekend and go with her to the Southside parade. She was bummed that they had gone out that night and were all tired. She got off the phone saying that they were a bit lame and she teasingly bemoaned the fact that she was going to head home, because they didn't want to go out anymore. I walked her to the door and watched her grab a cab. I thought it was pretty funny how she dashed to the cab - almost bouncing along the way. It brought a smile to my face. Again, it was all so rote and normal.

Saturday morning, I woke up to an update about my friends. I got ready to go wedding dress shopping with my sister, my mom and my aunt. I met Nat for coffee and a bagel and then went off to shop. We stopped for lunch and it was then that my phone began to ring. Not knowing the number, I let it go to voice mail, since we were in a restaurant. When the number called back again soon after, I thought it was weird and I got up to check the message. That is when the weekend turned again for the worse. It was JC's friend looking for her. I told him about the friends staying with her and how she had headed home soon after work. It was then that he told me about the fire in her building.

The next few hours passed with a myriad of wedding dresses, phone calls, messages, and updates. In the end, it was not good. It was not only her building, but her apartment. It was not only her, but her friends as well. It was not only a fire, but an arson. In the blink of an eye, they were all lost. All I could think was that I was sad for her young son. Sad for her family. Sad for her friends. I was mad at myself for getting cranky with her earlier in the evening. (Though grateful for her sweet heart and for the fact that the moment passed quickly and that the evening ended on a series of good notes). No matter how I looked at it, it just didn't seem fair at all.

We gathered last night at the bar. Not really knowing where else to go or what else to do. For awhile, we all sat, a bit stung by all that had happened. I kept thinking about her excitement about the parade. How close she was to finishing school. How she had a ridiculously, wonderfully positive spirit. We toasted her and took a moment to acknowledge how precious life can be. I had no idea on Friday that watching her get a cab would be the last time I saw her.

And at some point in the evening, we started to sing and dance. It seemed to have evolved organically. We sang ridiculously loud and danced horribly. And when Better Days played, we hoped that its message was true. And thought it may seem inappropriate to dance and sing on a day like that, I think that JC would have liked it. In the short time I knew and worked with her, it seems like she would've liked the impromptu celebration of her life.

This morning, a few of us gathered for church. To pray about all that had happened this weekend. To thank God that Friday's accident was not worse. To pray for JC's family and friends and her friends' families. To thank God for our own families and friends and for the life that we have been given.

If there is anything good to be found in this tragedy, it is the reminder that life is an unknown and that it can never be taken for granted. Each day that we are here is one to be lived to the fullest. The little things are just that, little. Nothing matters more than those you love. I am thankful for another day.

So as you go about your busy work week and begin to look forward to your next weekend, don't put anything off until tomorrow. Don't go to bed angry. Don't forget to say I love you. Don't let a day by without realizing how great a gift it truly is.

“May the road rise up to meet you, may the wind be ever at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face and the rain fall softly on your fields. And until we meet again, May God hold you in the hollow of his hand.”

To you I'm a toy

When I was in high school, I worked at an outdoor concert venue. Some days I would work the front gate passing out programs and garbage bags. I remember working one day at the gate and seeing this guy standing on the steps in front of the theatre that is by the main gate. He had a blanket, a bottle of wine and food for two. I remember sneaking glances at him – he was super-cute (to my hormonal, teenage, 16-year-old self) and he was just standing by himself staring into the crowd. It was a bit intriguing.

I am sure that he was searching for the person that he was supposed to meet. He stood there for hours – watching everyone that came in the gate. I felt bad for him as the time ticked by. And then it started to rain. (I couldn’t make this up if I tried.)

It rained steadily for a while and I watched this poor guy salvage his things and move under a semi-protective awning. And still he stood waiting.

I kept thinking about the person he was waiting for – Was she running late? Did he get his gates crossed? Did she stand him up? How did it come to be that he was standing there alone?

I stared at Mr. Cute boy and his soggy picnic and wondered who could do that to someone? Who could plan something with someone and then not show? Who bails with no explanation? I couldn’t imagine how someone finds himself in that kind of situation.

Until a few weeks ago, when I stood on the same precipice. I saw something seemingly good vanish into thin air. I can’t really pinpoint when it happened. Actually, that’s not really true. I am pretty perceptive when it comes to bad things happening in my life. I could feel the tides turning a bit, but couldn’t really figure out why and continued to hope that for once, I was wrong. Turns out, I wasn’t.

And here’s what frustrates me the most:

It was the unceremonious blow-off – there was no explanation. Not even an obnoxiously inappropriate, “it’s not you, it’s me” text message. Nothing. I got an article of clothing as collateral for the promise of a right and proper date. Of course, I never got the date and I am now stuck with article of clothing trying to figure out what the hell to do with it.

This person purported himself to be the honest kind. We had lengthy conversations of past interactions and relationships and hurts. We talked about the things that drove us crazy – people who cheat, people who are dishonest…. I mean it is all too cliché that he became the guy who vanished.

The worst is that he filled my head and heart with possibilities. He made me think that this was something meaningful and true. He made me believe that I was something he had been looking for. (God, in writing, it sounds like I am living my very own U2 soundtrack).

But now I sit here wondering silently to myself about the person who did this to me. Who bails with no explanation? Did I get my gates crossed? How did it come to be that I am standing here alone?

Author's Note: Just wanted to say that while this entry is dark, I am okay. Don't want any of my friends that read this to worry about me. As always, life moves forward and so do I.

Veteran's Day?

Once again the Veterans Committee for the National Baseball Hall of Fame voted and elected no one to the Hall of Fame. (Boy, am I glad that committee was formed!)

Once again Ron Santo just missed being able to write H.O.F. after his name.

He was 5 votes shy. 5 votes. If this were an US election, we would have requested a recall. Hell, we probably would've gotten a judge to deem him elected - even when the numbers didn't match.

But in baseball, numbers are everything and it seems that people are saying his numbers don’t add up.

I wonder about that. Here is a guy who played the game with his heart and soul. He had consistent career numbers and some banner years, including 5 Gold Gloves and 9 All-Star Team appearances.

He has devoted his life to not only the game, but also to bringing awareness to and raising money for an important cause - Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation.

The fact that Santo played for the Cubs for 11 years before publicly disclosing that he had diabetes is amazing. The fact that he even played at all is inspiring.

It seems to me that Santo has the athletic story that we all love to embrace. He is a lovable guy, who lives and breathes the game and surmounts the challenges he faces with grace and dignity. He is approachable, emotional and devoted to the good will of the game.

And so, I wonder why baseball doesn’t want him. Why (once again) he was passed over?

Instead of celebrating, he will spend another summer answering questions about just missing the Hall. Of course, he will also be championing the Cubs (living and dying by their successes and failures) and his beloved JDRF.

And it will be a bittersweet summer, if you ask me, since this summer we will watch Barry Bonds break Hank Aaron’s Career Home Run record – ensuring his spot in the Hall of Fame.

Ironic. One man’s numbers aren’t enough and the other’s certainly shouldn’t add up.

An offering to you

I went to church tonight for Ash Wednesday. I am not the best practicing Catholic and I sometimes feel that it is because I let things (crap, really) get in the way. Regardless, I try and keep Lent, because I think that it is the most important part of the Liturgical year. It is the time to refocus.

My friend and I went to services tonight. I was grateful that lightning didn't strike him down when we walked in to church. In all seriousness though, it was nice to have someone to sit next to during mass. And I liked being there. I liked the hour away from my petty problems. I liked the time to think about things.

The recessional was a song I remembered from my childhood. (20 years of Catholic School). The Ashes song. The church diva (a.k.a. song leader) read the number and page of the song and I chuckled a bit to myself, because I didn't need them. I knew the song by heart. And while singing it, I got the chills. All that I have been trying to do lately was outlined in the song. I can't explain it, but it moved me and brought me a bit of peace. And so, for no other reason than it is a good reminder, I am posting the lyrics to the song. Hopefully, by the end of Lent 2007, I will have found a way to turn the failed good and attempts and pain into an offering of something better.

1. We rise again from ashes, from the good we have failed to do. We rise again from ashes, to create ourselves anew. If all our world is ashes then must our lives be true, An offering of ashes, an offering to You.

2. We offer you our failures, we offer you attempts, The gifts not fully given, the dreams not fully dreamt. Give our stumblings direction, give our visions wider view, An offering of ashes, an offering to You.

3. Then rise again from ashes, let healing come to pain, Though spring has turned to winter, and sunshine turned to rain. The rain we'll use for growing, and create the world anew. From an offering of ashes, an offering to You.

7 for the Price of 1

Lately, I have started many a blog in my head and then forgotten them. This has led to me creating a list. However, now that I write things down, I seem to be drowning in topics. So, here are a bunch of things on my mind (Richard Roeper-style):

· For the last few days, Chicago has been experiencing a heat wave (a.k.a temperatures above freezing – insert angelic singing here). It has not snowed in several days either. The reason for the Skilling-report? It amazes me how much snow and ice is still on people’s sidewalks. People, you have had a weekend. You have had weather that melts snow. What is the problem? It is totally annoying to have to climb ginormous ice mounds to get to the bus stop. I can’t imagine what it would be like if I was a mother with small children – especially a stroller. Kudos to those that braved the elements and shoveled and salted. I applaud you.

· I have been working pretty hard the last few weeks trying to meet some deadlines. Last week, after a particularly long workday, I was so focused on getting on the train and getting home that I forgot to swipe my Chicago Card and walked smack into the turnstile. Slightly embarrassing and completely funny at the same time. I turned to make fun of myself with someone and cracked the following joke with the girl loading up her fare card: ‘guess it helps if I actually swipe my card.’ Yeah, I know, totally lame. She politely fake-laughed. I swiped my card and went on with my night. Really wish that someone were there to share in the humor of that moment.

· A woman in Pennsylvania delivered her baby into her sweatpants. She said she didn’t know what was happening until the baby was in her pants leg. Really? Not having any kids and having heard crazier stories than this, I can give her the benefit of the doubt. After all, doctors thought my mom was a tumor for the first 6 or so months of my grandma’s pregnancy. But, this was her 4th pregnancy. I’m thinking by the 4th kid, you have to have figured out some of the warning signs. (Best statement I have heard on this topic included a recommendation for kegels [sidebar Nat] and avoiding skirts.)

· Britney Spears. Lord. A month ago, did anyone think that K-Fed would seem the most normal of the two? Flashing. Shearing. Rehabbing. She’s going off the deep end a bit. And where are the kids? While mommy is out shenaniganing, where are her kids? If you thought she was a questionable mother when she kept forgetting the whole child-safety seat thing, what about now?

· The first Sumatran Rhino born in captivity since 1889 just took a bit of a road trip from the Cincinnati Zoo to Indonesia. The purpose of the trip is for the rhino to meet a female rhino, fall in love, preserve the species and help it grow. And I thought my family put dating pressure on me.

· Heather Mills is competing on Dancing with Stars.

· Shout out to the Carson Pirie Scott on State Street. One more icon store bites the dust. Wonder when it is all said and done if State Street will still be a great street.

In the darkest hour of the night, you find daylight

I was watching TV the other day and one of the characters had a “Live Like You Were Dying” list. It got me thinking about how often I say that is my philosophy. In high school, I wanted to YAWP along with the Dead Poet’s Society, suck the marrow out of life and carpe every diem.

In college, I was obsessed with this Irish Blessing:

May you work like you don't need the money,
Love like you've never been hurt, and
Dance like no one is watching.

Since Leon died, I have said time and again that I am won’t waste time. I won’t fear life. I won’t worry about pain and heartache. I was going to follow my heart, not my head. Tell those around me how I feel. Seize each moment and enjoy it.

Usually though, I am the over-thinker. The one who worries about hurting someone or being hurt. The one who analyzes every conversation and carefully words everything –even texts – for fear of saying the wrong thing.

I feel like every few months, I say that I am going to change. I say that I am going to attack the world and be brave. That I am going to trust myself and my feelings and risk being hurt, but then I always seem to hold myself back.

I got a little bit better when I turned 30. I let myself go a bit. Stopped worrying about public persona so much and started having fun. (I have Nat to thank for that.) That being said, I wouldn’t say that I am daring. Even in the year deemed “Go Bold or Go Cold,” I think that I have been wearing an extra sweater or two.

And now it is Ash Wednesday and you are wondering why that matters? But long ago a priest told me that Lent is about making a change in your life for the better. He said that for some people, that is giving something up, but it doesn’t have to be. (I like the way he thinks). He said that sometimes it is taking an hour each day and reading or reflecting or volunteering – something that has a positive impact on your life.

So for me, aside from meatless Fridays, trying to bring my lunch / workout few times a week and giving up my snooze button (more on that later), I am going to be bolder. I am going to approach someone who intrigues me without worry of rejection, because rejection happens sometimes. I am going to not put myself down in light of a compliment, because I think that I am a pretty good person and deserving of kind words. I am going to be honest with people, but be kind in my honesty. I am going to break the conventional rules of dating and male / female interaction and not worry about appropriate number of days and whatnot, because I believe that none of that matters if there is a mutual like involved.

I am also going to tell the guy that went MIA (in plain sight) that he doesn’t get to do that without knowing that it stings a bit. He doesn’t get to be off the hook that easily. He certainly doesn’t get to make me believe in his sincerity and then bail without notice. That is item # 1 on my Live Like You Were Dying list. What’s yours?

On the Bayou

Just wanted to wish everyone a Happy Mardi Gras / Fat Tuesday! I am off to celebrate some hard work and the last night of freedom before Lent.

I've Built My World Around You

I just read that after tonight's episode of Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, the show is going on an indefinite hiatus. In television speak, that's not good. This is strange and ironic, because it has only been within the last month or so that I have become a fan of the show. Which is even odder, since I was a huge advocate for it this summer.

Here's the back story: Netflix and Networks in their brilliance have been making pilots of shows available before they air. Such a smart tactic. I rented the pilot of Studio 60 this summer and was instantly obsessed. The pilot was so good. It was edgy and though-provoking and everything I loved about Sports Night and West Wing rolled into a new show with people that I love to watch - Matthew Perry, Bradley Whitford, Timothy Busfield... I was excited for it to start. I even sent a note to all my Netflix friends to get them on board.

When the new television season started, I watched the first few episodes and then drifted away from it. It wasn't that it was bad, but I just wanted it to be more. Such a great cast, such a good writer and still, it seemed like it was missing something. I left it, which is sad, because I never abandon Matthew Perry, even when he is starring is such gems like Fools Rush In and Three to Tango.

Then, a miraculous thing happened...the Bears beat New Orleans, I had the Monday off (thank God) and my Tivo had recorded a Studio 60 marathon while I was watching the game. It seemed like destiny as I recline on my couch, nursing a hangover and catching up on Studio 60. It was like we had never parted and I reinvested myself into the show and began enjoying it. So much so, that I have looked forward to watching the new episode every week.

And, like so many things in my life, when I find myself enraptured by something, it is going away on indefinite hiatus. I'm not saying it is the greatest show ever. It needs work - it especially needs to stop beleaguering certain points. But, it is enjoyable. I like the cast. I like the banter between them - though Bradley Whitford is a bit of his West Wing character. (Quite frankly, that doesn't bother me too much, because I loved his West Wing character and I miss that show.) Maybe I am holding out hope that it will get better. Rationally, I know that Networks don't do that and they pull shows for less, but there is so much crappy tv on these days. I really wish that a miracle would happen. The show in one episode would get better, but I doubt that it will be the hail mary necessary.

And so it is going on indefinite hiatus. (Which really means it is off through the money-making part of the season and the un-aired episodes that are already paid for will get aired this summer - when barely anyone is watching). And I find that sad. Seems like good, intelligent shows get tossed or are in constant danger, while American Idol, Survivor, and even Rock Star: Whomever hold on season after season - well, maybe not Rock Star: Whomever, but you get the idea.

The future is here at last

This week has been a doozy and I have just wrapped up Day 4 of the ridiculously social-Dea week. From my normal Monday night, to snow Angel Tuesday, to GNO Wednesday to Jen's Birthday (Part I) Thursday, I am pooped. It's funny, because sometimes I feel a smidge alone, when I spend a few days hoveled in my apartment watching NetFlix and eating taco dip. Then there is a week like this where I almost wish I could hovel up in my apartment with dvds and taco dip.

I have been so busy that my mind has been working overtime and I feel like my creative juices may have been flushed away by all the OJ I have been drinking. (It has been my desperate attempt to stay vitaminized and healthy during the busy nightlife week).

That being said, I have all these random thoughts and no inspired way of delivering them. So here they are (in no particular order):

1) I saw a woman walking a large dog wearing what can only be described as aqua socks -- the dog not the lady. It struck me as funny, because the dog was walking so proudly and I was wondering if he knew how silly he really looked.

2) Why is it on the day the CTA says that they are going to add more buses to make the commute easier for commuters, my bus takes 15 minutes to go 4 blocks and all the L's that I can take are messed up because of signal issues at Howard? It is like the CTA has some seriously sick sixth sense.

3) I have also noticed that once you have purged someone from your thoughts (typically because you don't want to think of them anymore), that is when they awkwardly pop back into the picture. Of course, when you can't purge someone from your thoughts (and you really wish you could) and you wish they would pop back in the picture, they never seem to.

4) How come the older I get, the more I break out? And in the same respect, why is it the more I lotion, the more I seem to chafe? Seems snow angels in blue jeans was not the nicest thing I could have done to my tucous.

5)How can Mardi Gras (and Ash Wednesday) be next week already? Seriously, time moves fast when you go to work five days a week.

6) Can someone please just figure out who is Anna Nicole's baby daddy? I mean who else is going to come out of the woodwork? David Crosby?

7) I brought a pair of jeans to work today, so that I could change before going to Jen's Birthday Dinner. I'm not gonna lie, I pulled them off my bathroom floor and threw them in my bag. This is only funny, because when I went to grab them to change, a sock fell out of the pant leg. Thankfully, it was only a sock, but still made me chuckle. I really, really need to do laundry. Said jeans were of the infamous snow angel excursion - that is how few clean clothes options I have.

And on that note, it is bed time. Dea-Dea needs her rest. Happy Birthday to Jen! Hope this post was a bit more on the positive side.

Funny side note - when you spell check tucous, mucous, Tuck's, taco and tacos are all options. Don't know why, but that made me chuckle.

So Call Me Captain Backfire

It's Heart Day, Chicago is covered with a blanket of snow (while more continues to fall) and the Cubs pitchers and catchers report to Spring Training today. I just came back from dinner and drinks with friends and all should be right with my world. And yet, I feel like something is missing.

People will say that I am feeling pressured by the commercialism of Valentine's Day and the lack of one is depressing me, but it's not that. In my 30 years, I have had an actual Valentine once. (Of course, I am not counting the heart-shaped candy box my Dad used to bring me every year when I was a little girl, cards my students gave me or anything a relative mailed me.) Still, I have always liked the holiday.

The doldrums are from a mind that thinks too much and a heart that trusts too much. Part of me will forever be grateful that I lead with my heart, even when my head is a jumbled mess of confusion. Then again, part of me wishes that I didn't always trust people to be true to their word.

I know that it is a lot to ask, but sometimes I wish that people would just be honest. That they would say what they thought. Mean what they say. Be who they are.

The ambiguity of life and relationships is frustrating. On a day that blanketed the city that I love with my favorite thing - snow - I should be feeling only joy. And yet, I am sitting here (actually reclining in bed) wondering what happened? How did my life (once again) turn on a dime?

It is a question that I cannot answer no matter how much I wish that I could. So instead, I am going to focus on the things that are right in my life. I am healthy (though I could probably eat better) and I am rich with friends and family that make even the confusing times great. Because, while I rang in VD with a screaming orgasm (the shot) and a few of my also confused and slightly reflective friends, I wasn't alone. I spent the evening enjoying myself and the company I was keeping.

And then, I went outside with my favorite partner-in-crime and made snow angels. And really, no matter how bummed you are about any situation, laying down in fresh snow to make a snow angel seems to make everything right. At least until your butt starts to freeze a bit.

On that note, sorry for the introspection and reflection. May this day bring you whatever you seek and may you find yourself making snow angels in the snow. Because it is the simple things that make waking up each day worth it all.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Enjoy the silence

I know that I have Sporty Spice lately with an influx of Bears posts, but I never denied being a big sports buff. Especially football. Especially since my Notre Dame got crushed (again) in the Sugar Bowl.

But I digress, I am a excited about the break. Nat and I were talking about what to do this week. And we can actually have plans other than staking out a table at a bar for a football game. I'm looking forward to catching up on my reading and movie viewing and crossword puzzling. At least for a while.

In other news, I am slightly intrigued by this crazy astronaut story. It fascinates me on many levels. How does a girl get ballsy enough to travel 900 miles to take on a romantic rival when her relationship with the man was more than a friendship, but less than a romantic relationship. Most of us are afraid to call too quickly for fear of pushing someone away and she drives to kidnap a triangle member of a non-relationship. Talk about panache.

And here is something that is bothering me (and my sister) -- the diapers. I mean, we have all been slightly disgusted by the driving in a diaper and peeing yourself to make better time thing. Kind of gross. Here's the big question though, wouldn't she have to stop for gas? I mean what high-falutin car gets 900 miles to the tank? And where can I get one?

And in following that theory, when she stopped for gas, wouldn't it have been just a good a time to stop to use a restroom? My mom always taught me to multi-task on roadtrips. (Mostly, because my dad is a frequent stopper). In my world, when you stop at the gas station (or any other place) you use the bathroom, whether you have to or not.

And then there is the monitoring device. An anklet GPS unit that is supposed to keep track of her. Let’s think about a girl with post-graduate degrees in aeronautical and astronautical engineering, who was one of 2 women who manned the robotic arm in space this summer, and wonder for a second how an anklet is going to hold her back. I may be going out on a limb here, but why do they think that she is incapable of removing that device and putting it on her dog or something else?

It is all incredibly fascinating to me. So many of us wander through life, carefully plotting out interactions with the opposite sex in the hopes that we will get it right once in awhile. And here is Lisa rocking and rolling to the beat of her own drum and taking her own path. It amazes me that this uber-intelligent woman ended up in Depends on a Thelma without Louise roadtrip. I wonder how she got to that point.

Hush My Darling

Well, its the re-cap I didn't really want to write. The one where I talk about the Chicago Bears losing in Superbowl XLI. Argh. So frustrating and a bit of a bummer. The ending was just sad. I think I am skipping game details and instead will recap the pre-game activities.

Like it was Christmas morning, I woke up at 7 AM. Not at all necessary and I have no idea why I did. I kept trying to force myself back to sleep, but it wasn't working out all that well.

At 8 AM, Natalie sent out the morning text - as she had done the previous 2 playoff games. I got up and futzed around until it was time to start the day.

Mel and Nat picked me up around 10:30, so that we could drive to get coffee and go grocery shopping for the party - we infused Sunday with as many routines as we could. We grocery shopped (snack bought) like it was our job. Never send 3 girls (with varying degrees of hunger and hangovers) into a grocery store unsupervised.

After shopping, we rolled down the windows (tradition again - and a damn cold one at that) and blasted the Superbowl Shuffle – singing it at the top of our lungs.

Next stop was the Bayou for a meat stick / bloody mary (righter of so many wrongs) with Cousin Michael a.k.a. Space Cuz. Michael had just come from mass, where he had prayed for a Bears victory. Like any good Catholic should.

Quick run home for food prep and then we converged upon the Superbowl Central. There was excitement in the air mixed with the splendid aromas of Chili, 'Lil Smokies, Velveeta cheese, Chicago-Style dogs, Popeye's chicken...the list goes on and on. Dave B. had set up viewing stations and every seat in the house had a perfect view.

Billy Joel belted out the National Anthem and the flyby buzzed the stadium. The Coin Toss went and it was heads. And the Bears were going to receive.

The anticipation mounted as the ball flipped end over end in the air. Devin Hester (I Heart Devin in ‘07) caught it and began to run. The minute he did this fancy side step, we all knew. He was going to run it all the way back. The room erupted and none of us could believe our eyes. It was the greatest 14 seconds of football I have ever seen.

And it was hard to top. Especially when the Colts scored a touchdown soon after. (Of course, the missed extra point was a bonus). Then it was 14-6 Bears and we were feeling good (not great, but good). Then there was the fumble. And Cedric went down. And another fumble. And we suddenly couldn't stop the run. And it all began to shift.

We tried. We rolled Shot-zees. We drank Mad Dog 20/20. (And Boones for that matter). We ate cold shot dogs. Anything we could think of to rally the Bears.

But when the confetti fell, it fell on the Colts in celebration and on the Bears as they slowly trudged off the field. There was sadness in the eyes of all the players. There was stunned silence in living rooms across Chicago.

This loss was a tough one – not nearly as painful as the Cubs in 2003, but pretty hard to swallow nonetheless. I will say this, though; it was one hell of a year.

To all those who met weekly and followed the Bears all season long – think of it this way - pitchers and catchers report to camp in 8 days. That’s right – 8 days! Isn’t that great? Football season for Chicago just ended and baseball season is about to begin.

Not to mention that March Madness is a mere month away.

All these glorious things to distract us until the Bears report to training camp and we can look at making a repeat appearance.

Until then, use this off-season to recover from injuries. Rest your weary livers. Take a few Sundays and catch up on your sleep. Return to a bit of normalcy.

Because, before you know it, the sun will be out, it will be warmer than the –1 it was this morning and we will be grilling brats and talking about the draft and hopes for the new season that looms before us. Go Bears!

For Me?

I came home from the bar tonight and there was a dozen white roses shoved in the outer door of my apartment building. For a brief moment, I thought that they were for me. I mean, really – a bouquet of my favorite colored roses at my house at 3 AM – how cool is that? I pulled them out of the door and looked at them. There was nothing on them to indicate the giver and receiver of these flowers.

Realistically, I knew they weren't for me. I don't really have anyone that would be leaving flowers at my door (at least not in my waking state). But for a second, it was a nice thought.

I didn't know what to do with the flowers, so I brought them inside and placed them in front of the mailboxes. I hope that they find their rightful owner.

Note: I wrote that at about 3 AM on Saturday - well really, Sunday morning. It is now Day 3 of White Roses Watch and no one has claimed them. At this point, they are just this sad looking brownish batch of flowers with no owner.

Last night I was relaying the story of the flowers to a few friends. My one friend said they were make-up flowers and that the recipient probably wasn’t home or wouldn’t let the apologizer have the chance to apologize. That’s a sad little spin on the story.

Cuz she's still preoccupied With 19 - 19 - 1985

So many topics rolling around in my head, I hardly know what to write about these days. Think I will stick with my favorite obsession: ‘Da Bears. (Sorry for perpetuating that ridiculous stereotype.) T-minus 5 days and counting until the big game. At this point, it is all most of us can think about.

One of the reasons I love Chicago the most is that we love our sports teams with serious devotion. If you’re a Sox fan (a true Sox fan), then the ’94 strike still cuts you to the core – regardless of 2005.

If you’re a Cubs fan (a true Cubs fan), then 2003 was gut wrenching and you are still pissed at Gonzalez (even though he is really cute), Prior and Wood for imploding and losing it all. (You are not pissed at any fan with his/her arms up in the air, because you know you would’ve done the same).

If you’re a Bulls fan (a true Bulls fan), you can remember exactly where you were when John Paxson sank the 3-pointer in Game 6. (Okay, that might be a stretch, but you should know, because it was a damn good game).

If you’re a Bears fan (a true Bears fan), you knew when they won the first MNF game, that this was our year. You have been playing and singing The Super Bowl Shuffle since. You have been wearing orange and blue with pride. You are giddy with anticipation (and a little nervous) for Sunday’s game.

Chicago is a football town and the Bears are the great unifier. Regardless of neighborhood, everyone loves the Bears. For the last several days, I haven’t gone anywhere without seeing people in their Bears gear. Every transaction (grocery shopping, banking, dining, drinking…) involves a “Go Bears,” at the end of it. All weekend plans hinge on the game.

We have been waiting for a while for this game and we are planning on doing it right. Those of us that grew up here (and are over the age of 21) remember Super Bowl XX. I remember the score of the game (46-10 – Teiber), where I was when I watched it and how much fun the victory was to all of us. At age 9, all was right with the world.

It is strange to think of how much has changed since then. So much has been lost, conquered, discovered and destroyed. We have seen the Berlin Wall come down. We have seen the decimation of the Ozone Layer and the onset of Global Warming. We have fought with Iraq – twice – which is ironic, because back when the Bears were in the Super Bowl last – Iraq was our ally. Then again, the Soviet Union wasn’t. And now, there is no Soviet Union.

When the Bears were in the Super Bowl last, the face of the world was different. Countries that were present on the World Map in 1986 are long gone – hell, even a planet is missing from the Solar System. (You’re still a planet to me, Pluto!)

I was in the 4th grade back then. I spent my summer days watching the Cubs on TV (there were no lights at Wrigley then) and playing outside. Fun for us was running races down the street, playing on the neighbor’s Star Wars swing set, slipping on our Slip ‘N’ Slides, riding bikes, roller skating and climbing trees. Boys were still on the yuck side, though I secretly hoped that David and Maddie would get together and I was already in love with the cheesy movies that would characterize the decade. I loved Top Gun and Pretty in Pink. Of course, I also loved The Boy Who Could Fly, Flight of the Navigator and Space Camp. (Noticing a bit of a trend here.) Really, at 9 years old, all I wanted to be was an astronaut-teacher-dolphin trainer-writer-President of the US. I had big dreams back then.

21 years later, we are all a bit different. Those of us that were kids back then have since grown up. (Some of us have kids of our own now). We have finished school, gotten jobs, lost a little of our innocence, fallen in and out of love, been hurt by or hurt someone we cared about and slowly, but surely, we have eked out a place in this adult world.

I am no longer 9, but rather 30 now and I look that all has happened in the world and all that has happened to me in the past 21 years and I am in a constant state of wonder. I look at all that has changed for the better and the worse and I wait in eager anticipation for all that is to come. Because if we can come so far in just 21 years, can you imagine what it will be like when the Cubs win the World Series?

I Heart Heart Day

When I was growing up, my mom always made holidays special for us. My sister and I both had summer birthdays, so my mom made sure we brought cupcakes on our half birthdays. To this day, February 1st doesn't go by without me thinking about that. My mom wasn't the best baker on the planet, but she did make these brownies. Amazing brownies. They were peppermint and had a layer of icing and a layer of drizzled chocolate on top of them. She would make them for Christmas and Valentine's Day. She always dyed the middle-frosting layer for the holiday and cut them into shapes. Crazy, I know, but nothing says Valentine's Day more to me than a heart-shaped peppermint brownie.

As I have become an adult, I have spent more Valentine's Days without a Valentine and I have been soured by love on more than one occasion, but I have never been soured on Valentine's Day. When I taught (and I should mention that I taught high school kids), I meticulously wrote out Valentine's for all my students - Star Wars ones I might add. Some of my most favorite Valentine's Day cards that I have ever received were the ones I received from them.

I realize that I am nerdy and geeky and in the minority, but I find nothing wrong with a holiday that has me getting and giving chocolates and cards and telling people that I love, how I feel about them. Yes, it has become commercial and yes, you should tell the people you love how you feel every day of the year, but what's wrong with taking a day out of the year and making a point out of it? Why do so many revile it?

I used to believe that people who didn’t like the holiday had bad experiences with it. However, I spent a Valentine’s Day in the ER with a roommate while he bled from his mouth – bad dental moment. And I lived to tell the tale, laugh about it and still love the day. So, why all the angst toward the day?

I know that everyone reading this is gearing up to reply with comments like:

“Dea, it is an over-commercialized holiday fabricated by Hallmark and American Greetings.”

“Dea, don’t you know how much pink and red and heart-shaped things suck?”

“Dea, have your birthday on V-Day and get back to me.”

“Dea, haven’t you ever ridden the Valentine’s Day Bus? I mean, really, it is like Cupid threw up in there.”

I know all this and still I say, “What is wrong with taking a day to remind people that they mean something to you? That they make you who you are as a person. That they bring meaning to a sometimes—most of the time—confusing world.” Should you do it everyday? Sure. But what’s wrong with taking out one day and making sure the message is heard? And including peppermint heart brownies.

Nobody messin' in my neighborhood

Holy Crap the Bears are going to the Super Bowl! About once an hour I have to say it out loud. I am hoping that it will actually sink in soon.

Yesterday, we went out to watch the game. I should mention that we are an extremely superstitious crowd. That being said, we all followed our same routine from last week. I showered in 3 minutes (though I had been up for an hour). We met at the coffee shop for our tasty warm beverage. (Well, those of us who had coffee last week were allowed to repeat. Sorry, Matty). We lost Tom (Traitor) to another location, but we did have someone drive us to the bar. We sat in the same seats in the car and sang Bear Down, Chicago Bears and the Superbowl Shuffle as we took the same route to the bar. And then all hell broke loose when we got there.

There were about 20 people in line (16 more than there were last week) and we began to panic about getting our same tables. See, we had all come to believe that the tables (and seating) were the X factor for the day. It was the one thing (aside from the actual game on the field) that we couldn't control. We began to sweet talk the people in line, hoping that they would understand our predicament about needing the same table. Thankfully, they were Bears fans and equally superstitious and on a mission to get the same tables they had last week. It seemed as if the problem was avoided. Until they opened the doors to the bar. (Two minutes after the bar should have been opened). And we all cut right to go to our tables. To find them gone. Not gone as in taken by others, but gone as in no longer there. In there place, we found 1 rectangular table and 2 round ones. With one chair.

Cut to panic mode. None of us knew what to do. We ran around the bar looking for another table (well, actually 4 other tables, but there were none to be had). The owner, in his brilliance, reserved half the bar for himself. And the management, in their brilliance, got rid of some of the tables, because they expected a crowd. Completely makes sense that football fans lining up for a 2 PM game at 10:30 AM would want to stand for the 3 hours before the game, as well as the whole game. We were in utter disbelief and pretty angry. I felt bad for the waitress, who not only lost half her section to a private party, but also felt the need to apologize for circumstances that were beyond her control. In that moment, she was the only good thing at the bar. (For the record, it will be here on out referred to as the "bar that shall not be named." Mostly, because I don't want to give it any press).

The 6 of us who set out to seat save had a decision to make and we had to make it quickly. All across the city, bars (and tables) were filling up with eager football fans. We needed to decide if we should stay or go. We were afraid to tamper with the karma, but all of us were so disappointed with the bar that shall not be named, that it was souring our Sunday Funday. We decided (after Guy scouted out another location) to cut our losses and move on to a new location. We didn't want to watch the game with a bad taste in our mouths and none of us wanted to arrive 3 1/2 hours before game time to stand. We were not the only ones to make that decision. When we moved to our new location (which had obviously added tables for the game, not removed them) we saw many of our fellow line standers taking tables and settling in for the day. I am sure that the bar that shall not be named did well yesterday, but I know they lost our business and soured a lot of other people in the process.

Anyway, back to the story. Once we switched location and amended our procedures, we had a bunch of phone calls to make. We sent out a mission aborted message and began re-routing everybldy to the new location. We also began creating an environment at the new bar that would right the wrongs of the location change. The fun pile was created. A few Tums were taken. I ordered a bad bloody mary. (Well, this one was a definite improvement on last week's) and we settled in to our table. We asked the bartenders if they could play our CD (we really needed to hear the Superbowl Shuffle), but they didn't have a sound guy. We made some calls and Scooter came to the rescue with a boom box, electrical cord and a remote.

I was having a semi-crappy morning based on too much alcohol from the night before, too many hormones (sorry Mike - I know you hate girl talk) and a few other extenuating circumstances that shall also remain nameless. Natalie, a.k.a the drill sergeant, would have none of that and dragged me to the bar for a lunchbox shot. It was the definition of what goes around comes around (or vice versa), since last weekend, I had done the same thing with Nat. I was being stubborn and crabby and I am glad that Nat was there to shoot it out of me. I owe her for righting my Sunday Funday.

Anyway, soon after the shot, it was time to get ready. We played Bear Down, sang the anthem and settled into our same seats (well, as best we as we could given the location change). I don’t think that we were settled for very long. Most of us stood the entire game. And what a game it was to see.

At first, I was nervous, because we had to keep kicking field goals (God Bless Robbie Gould). My sister even sent me a message that said this is great and all, but we need a touchdown. And then, things began to fall into place. Just when I became nervous about a Saint-ly comeback (it was 16 – 14 at the time), there was a magical moment in the end zone…a Safety! At 18 – 14, I began to settle a little. Our defense was kicking ass (except for the one Bush play that scared us all), and if we could just hold on…it might happen. The Bears might actually win!

And then we got our Rexy back. In the 3rd quarter and following the Safety, it was game on for the Bears offense!! We needed touchdowns and we got them – from Berrian, Benson (Cedric!) and Thomas Jones. And as we kept scoring and our defense kept clocking the ‘Aints, we all started to get a bit more excited. A bit more enthused. A bit more bouncy. We jumped up and down and hugged on nearly every play and the 2- minute warning, with concession calls from both of my New Orleans friends, we all began to accept it. Our Bears were Bowl bound! Super Bowl Bound!!!

When the game ended, the celebrating began (well, continued really)! There was drinking and dancing and pictures and shots. (I was very glad that I took Monday off). We watched the Patriots game (sorry, Joe) and savored the Bears victory. And kept saying it out loud, just so we could believe it. When we went outside, the snow was falling and it was beautiful. All in all, it was a perfect day in Chicago.

And so it is Monday and I am sitting on my couch, still in my pajamas and I can’t believe it actually happened. The Bears did it! They caused the ‘Aints to march right out of town. I wanted to believe it all along. I thought we could do it. There was something magical about yesterday. I woke up to a car driving by my apartment blasting “Take On Me,” which is the song that reminds me of one of my best friends, as it is the CD he bought right before he died. I thought in that moment that this was going to be a good day. And I was wrong, it was so much more then that.

51 Hours and 32 Minutes to Kick Off!

Yesterday my friends sent back and forth a string of emails about Sunday's game. Rather than write about it, I thought I would just post them. It is a pretty funny read.

Tom - Some of us are going to Yakzees for the Bears game on Sunday. Planning to get there around 11. If by chance it's packed and we can't get a table we figure we can run over to Bernie's and get a table there.

Not to be an a$$, but it's going to be too crowded to save seats. You're more than welcome to come later but we're not guaranteeing a seat. So if you can join us around 11 we'll see you there.

Teiber - Not sure what everyones game plan is, but I'm kind of superstitous. So i'm in for the same place, tables, seat, even the same clothes as last week. Yes, I did wash the clothes. I also have no problem about waiting outside before the bar opens to get a table again. But, if people are for a change of venue I could handle yakzees or someplace near there, but I had a damn good time at Kirkwood(for the people that watched elsewhere) and would not
mind going back.

GO BEARS

Me - You took the words right out of my mouth, Teiber! I still smart from the Cubs loss in 2003 (and still blame Chad and Jen for coming into town and taking over our table for game 6).

I know that Nat and I are also planning keeping the routine. I think that our plan for Sunday is the same as it was last Sunday - coffee, waiting in line, stampede, same tables (probably same waitress=(, same seats, same clothes, same fun pile (only deviation is going to be a bigger bottle of tums), same hilariously great time!

Tom - if we are losing you to another venue, we are going to require your hat. We all think that it was an integral part of the Bears victory!

GO BEARS!

Nat - Tom ... you are really putting a kink in our plan ... which shouldn't be a problem if you drive us to the bar while playing Bear Down and the SuperBowl Shuffle, lend us your Gators hat and put another Broncos fan in your seat. I intend to maintain position at Kirkwood and think that it is our best strategy for VICTORY ... and ... there will be NO TOUCHING of eachother! SO ... Wash those clothes from last week and put them on again, prep your purses and pockets with all of the acutriements from last week & Teiber, Matty and Dea I will see you at Julius Meinl at 10:15 and we will take it from there. Tom - the question is are you going to be responsible for stealing our MOJO ... cuz against the 'Aints from Dixie ... we NEED our MOJO ....!!!! LETS GO BEARS!!!!!

Dave B. - people and peepettes-

let's be proactive here and get a tentative head count so we can be sure to save enough seats. i don't know if three table savers is going to be sufficient and i'd rather err on the side of too many seats. it's math.

on a side note, i can't believe you're all washing your last week's clothes. i'm still wearing the same boxers. what kind of fans are you? i've got all those sweet, fortuitous juices locked in and incubating in my hamper as we speak. WHO'S SITTING NEXT TO ME!!

scooterbeans- seriously, scooterbeans? what kind of email address is that? what, was queerbait 1 through a million already taken? why don't you show us you got a pair of beans and scoot on out to the neighborhood for some libations this evening? don't let me pressure you though, let your conscience be your guide. i'm gonna be in your neighborhood if you're interested so i could scoop you on my way home from my showings.

and in closing i'd just like to say, BEARS, BEARS, BEARS, BEARS, BEARS, BEARS, BEARS, (Dea here...He said this for 24 lines)

daveb chair of
daveb international, inc.

Guy - Count me in for DA BEARS!!!!!
I'll be out tonight. After watching two nights of American Idol I finally have my confidence back enough to belt out some Karaoke.
Hey "D" you might get to hear a little Romeo & Juliet!!!

BEARS 63
SAINTS 9

Elaine - OK, I am unsure what to do... since I wasn't with you guys last week, I don't know if I can join in now....!?! BUT, I have not washed my outfit from last week, so I can properly gear up.

My prediction:
Barack Obama is the honorary coin flipper, Bears win by 3 TDs, and fans everywhere vote Obama '08.

Guy (again) - My Prediction Version 1.1
After Barack Obama does the coin flip Rex Grossman gets hurt on the first play. Lovie Smith decides to put Obama in for Grosmman!! (Me (taking creative license) There was a political statement, but that takes the fun out of the silly string of email. As Teiber said, politics and girl topics don’t mix well with football.)

BEARS 9
SAINTS 63

Me (again) - Talk about opening a can of worms...

The way I see it:

1) Debauchery occuring tonight.
2) Elaine is joining us on Sunday in smelly clothes.
3) Teiber is joining us in not smelly clothes (for once=0)
4) Tom is letting the team down
5) Dave is really excited about the game - and will be joining us, though probably not sitting, since the boxers will be standing on their own by Sunday.
6) Obama in '08
7) We can only refer to the opponent as the 'AINTS....as in: "Ain't it a shame that the Bears kicked the 'AINTS ass!"
8) Mike needs a drink & loves talking about girl things.
9) If you are coming on Sunday, be there early with us (or stand)
10) All of us are eagerly counting down the time until game day!!

Insert several more emails with the word BEARS repeated over and over again and then two more late entries into the fray.

Scott - will attend as directed by Nat and Jax. I will make sure to try to remember what I was wearing so I may wear it again. I need help. Seriously - no wait, s$@t, it's that polo sweatshirt that I can't stand. DAMN IT!!! And a Chinese Food stain if I recall. Perfect. Found it. It's ... it's not pretty. But it will be there. And I will be the it wearing it.

Jax - ...I am THRILLED to read all of this fun planning for the Sunday Bears victory. I'm in, I won't be able to be there for the line but would hope that my seat will be saved.....PLEASE, I'm out Sat nite celebrating my birthday so might not be in form for the line but PROMISE to wear the same clothes (navy thong included) and even though that gray turtleneck was itching my neck, it will be clean and on my body for the kharma.

GO BEARS!!!

And there you have it. Plans to view the game in the works. The countdown begins...

Go Bears!

Smells like....

I am in the middle (well, that's a bit optimistic) of day 3 of a business class. I am the nerdy-type who likes to learn, so I am actually excited about being here. However, I am also the type that likes to fidget, get up and walk around, talk to people and surf the net on occasion. I can't really do that in the front row of a computer lab in an 8-hour class. Nope. At least not until the scheduled morning, afternoon and lunch break.

I feel like I am back in high school, eagerly waiting a lunch bell. (Actually, my school didn't have bells, but that is a story for another time). I stare anxiously at the computer clock hoping that he will call break a bit early. Well, not today. Today, he said that we might get out early, but that lunch would be later.

Dilemma. Lunch later? I have to sit in class all day and focus and now I can't eat until later? I was immediately thrown into a Garfield / Jughead panic. What to do? On break, I refilled my coffee and contemplated the snacks. I was going to need something to get me through the rest of the morning. And that's when I saw it. A Dole Mixed Fruit Cup. The ones that used to be in the tin cans though they are now in a plastic cup. Perfect, I thought to myself. Something to tie me over.

I bring the fruit cup, a spoon and my coffee into the training room. Figuring that I can snack on my fruit cup while the lesson continues. I opened up the delicious snack and proceeded to spill some of the juicy contents in my lap.

Which is why it is 10:30 AM and we are at least an hour and a half from lunch and I smell like an apricot-pear-tangelo. And I have wet pants.

'Cause I love the way that my singin sounds in here

Every morning I wake up to Mike and Mike. (Well, that and Baba O'Reily on my cell phone and a buzzer on my alarm clock and my mom calling me -- I am not exactly a morning person). After stopping all the chaos in my bedroom, I usually snuggle under the covers and listen to them talk about the sports news of the day. As of late (actually all football season) that has been a lot of fun. The problem is that I almost always stay in bed later than I should listening to them and then I am hauling it out the door. (Why I bother, I don't know, since inevitably my train is going to spend the better part of the morning 'waiting for signals.')

Anyway, to avoid this, I have been dragging my alarm clock / radio to the bathroom with me every morning. I put it on my vanity and plug it in to the only outlet in my bathroom - you know, the one where most normal girls plug in a hair dryer or a flat iron or something. This allows me my sports fix and lets me get ready. Of course, it also makes me leave with wet hair.

The problem is that I never put it back in my room. I turn the radio off and run out the door. I forget that it is still in the bathroom -- even as I am getting ready for bed. I remember it is in the bathroom only when I go to set it - which I can masterfully do from bed and mostly under the covers (they don't make 'em as lazy as me anymore). This always causes a few minutes of debate as to whether or not I really need the extra two alarms. (Really, I do). And then I reluctantly make the mad dash to the bathroom -- trying not to turn on any lights -- and I grab the alarm clock. I quickly plug it in and burrow under my covers, because usually my teeth are chattering by now.

And every night that I have to do this, I end up thinking to myself -- "Why haven't I just gone out and bought a radio? A $9.99 Walgreens variety. A boombox. (yeah - I said it) A shower radio. Any radio?" Kind of like I am doing right now.


Side Note: If anyone can tell me where the song lyric is from, I will be thoroughly impressed. (And for the record, using Google doesn't count - though if the question was posed to me, that is exactly what I would do.)

They Say Jimbo Is Our Man

So the Bears are going to the NFC Championship game for the first time since 1988! That is more than half my life ago. Just so we know, babies born in 1988 can drive a car and participate in free elections. These kids have never known a playoff-winning Bears team. Hell, they can’t even say they remember Walter Payton – at least Walter Payton the player (Walter Payton the person is certainly hard to forget).

There is an entire generation of kids who don’t remember getting their plastic Chicago Bears NFC Champs Mug from the local gas station; watching the game in their living room, wearing head-to-toe Bears gear; excitedly dragging their parents to Carson Pirie Scott to get the new Superbowl Champions shirts; playing the Superbowl Shuffle over and over and over again on our portable Fisher Price brown / white record player. Of course, it is the Superbowl Shuffle that we got from McDonald’s and it is the on our [now] infamous floppy 45. (Let’s be honest, there is an entire generation of kids who think 45 is a speed limit and not the number of revolutions per minute.

And yet they are now one game from Miami and 2 games from seeing Chicago like they have never seen it before. And if yesterday is any indication of the chaos to come…I might advise protective gear.

Sunday Fun Day – Recap and Review

· May have set the record for the fastest shower / getting ready in the history of man. May be an exaggeration, but I know that I was in the shower at 10:15 and out the door at 10:20. And maybe I left with all my make up and my hairbrush in my purse. And maybe my hair was dripping wet and knotted, because I hadn’t even combed it out yet. And maybe I was completely disheveled, but I was true to my word and I was at the coffee shop when I was supposed to be.

· Natalie in her great wisdom made us all get out of our nice comfy beds early, to go to a bar that was not open yet and get a spot of line. I say this right now—she is a genius. At 10:30 AM, we were the 3rd group in line. By 10:45, there were about 30 people in line. When the bar opened, it was a mad dash to the tables. Teiber grabbed 2. I grabbed 2 more and when I looked up, game over. There were no more tables. The 6 of us that ventured out to eke out seats accomplished our mission and settled ourselves in for the long haul.

· We got off to a rocky start with the waitress – it took 45 minutes to bring us our first round and contrary to her belief, the Bloody Mary’s were not a good drink at all. (Picture tomato / pickle juice and you have an idea of what the Bloody Mary tastes like). But we soon got into a good rhythm – we just accepted the fact that we would order every time we saw her.

· We had brought games (well, the girls did) to keep us entertained during the time before the game. We created a “fun pile,” which included LCR, cards, dice (actually Dave brought those), snuff (such a bad idea), Tums (so very necessary) and lotion.

· Right before the game started, we sang the Superbowl Shuffle. I know most of the words, but Nat is amazing – she knows them all and can sing them / and reenact the video. It is a sight to see.

· Game on as the Bears battled the Seahawks. Taking us all on the biggest up and down ride of our lives. We watched with a crazy intensity that required more than a roll of Tums. I have never cheered harder or louder. (I have the bruised hand and the laryngitis to prove it).

· When it was all said and done, the man who would be a carpenter kicked a 49-yard Field Goal and propelled the Chicago Bears to the NFC Championship game! All hell broke loose! We jumped, chest bumped, hugged, screamed, spilled beer, laughed, cried, and all around went crazy for the fun of it. I broke my shoe in the fray and could’ve cared less. (Thankfully, duct tape fixes just about everything).

· Never have I had more fun watching a game. Never have I been more tired at the end of it.

So, to all my game-watching-partners-in-crime, can’t wait until next week. (And wisely, I took next Monday off).

Best Quotes of the Day:

· Beer is coming out all my holes (This said after I made Natalie laugh while taking a sip of beer).

· Nobody touch anyone anymore! (This said after a handholding Kum Ba Yah moment did not rally the Bears as we thought it would).

· 2 ½ Minutes is a whole lot of time to score. (This after the Bears got the ball back in the 4th).

· Everybody touch themselves. (This said by a member of the group when someone reiterated the “no touching” rule).

· Snuff makes my mucous brown. (Sang to the tune of Camptown Races and once again a credit to Ms. Nat. Of course, those privy to the last night’s revelation regarding Red Bull will be thrilled to know that that statement can also be sung to this tune.)

· He was in the hole. (Sometimes, we are a bit juvenile =0)

Side Note - Wikipedia called the Superbowl Shuffle a rap song. Does anyone else think that is hillarious?