Chicago continued...

A very artistic shot by my MIL. This is a statue at Navy Pier where we found our inner child:)

Ahhh, and here is Anna Oshea's, chocolate boutique divine.

We spent two hours perusing, photo-opping, eating chocolate and even dreaming of more chocolate...

Oh, aren't we so candid?

Here we are in Millenium Park, where stands the sculpture of "The Bean" and behind which sits an enormous and modern looking ampitheater. It is right in the center of town with towering buildings (and a beautiful library) surrounding.

It's just like magic... just imagine all the stories being typed feverishly inside!!

Here we are inside the mall at Navy Pier. Behind us is a fountain, one of about ten, that literally spits water. When it "spits" it looks like a frog jumping into a pond.

The view from the top of the ferris wheel at Navy Pier.

On the ferris wheel.

Here we are beside the river.

Our lunch spot, where I experienced deep dish (and delish) Chicago pizza.

I love this shot... this is the three of us (who used to meet every Wednesday at Sbux) staring into The Bean at Millenium Park. Nice shot, MomA.

This is a cool photo Jamie took of the city reflected in The Bean.

And here is the belly of The Bean.. it is artistically fascinating to walk underneath. Don't miss it if you travel to the Windy City.

Pictures worth thousands of words

The Good Life

Ok, so a little update for my faithful followers: I went to Annapolis to see my college friends! They lovingly (and with chutzpah) convinced me that failing to come due to a fear of getting sick was unacceptable... and I never did! I have remained healthy this whole week; as you see I was well enough to travel to Chicago and love it.

Also from the Good Life front: my son is precious. Here are a few pics of him enjoying the fancy features of Aunt Ginny and Uncle Mark's new house. Oh, household appliances how we love thee.

Fancy dial... lights up... Good. Good. Okay, I can get into this place.

And it spins?! I'm definitely on board.

Speaking of "on board".

This is kinda weird, Dad.

You've had your laugh. Can I get down now?

"My kind of town Chicago is"

Don't you love that Sinatra song? Everything he says is true... and as I boarded the ferris wheel that overlooks Navy Pier and the Windy City's skyline I had to agree with Frank. Martha, Jamie, and I flew northward (and snowbound) this weekend to visit our dear friend Beth Tinsley... and we had a ball.

I don't think I'm a big city girl. Nonetheless, it was thrilling to have buildings rising up around me like great steel giants that had no interest in my smallness, but only in the clouds that they reached for. I loved finding little restaurants tucked between chocolate shops and ritzy retailers, places to hunker away from the wind and the walking for a glass of wine and laughing with girlfriends. It was stunning to see the lights at night dotting the horizon while we drove away.

There were so many perfect moments, and I don't have enough pictures to capture them all, (more are forthcoming as soon as I synch up with the other girls' cameras), but here are a few pics of us girls as we explore the great metropolis.

This is all of us taking pictures of the "Bean", a mirrored glass sculpture. It is actually of a kidney bean. Beth in red, then Martha, Hannah, and Jamie.

Hilarious name for a street, don't you think?!

My Adams girls and Beth in front of the Chicago Theater.

The new Trump Tower.

Las damas Adams: Hannah, Jamie, Martha. We were the southern bumpkins galavanting through the town. (Okay, maybe not quite bumpkins).

Vosges Haut Chocolat is famous for its "Mo's Bacon Bar", which is literally chocolate with bacon in it. Don't believe me? Google it. It also has the BEST COOKIES. Thank you Ginny for inspiring our visit to Vosges. It was unparalleled.

Spring is coming!

Today we spent the morning outside!! Brian Disney built a gorgeous railing around their deck, so Emily, Casey, and I took our boys (Jonathan, Charles, and Noah is the little guy) out to play. Sunglasses, bare feet, the whole kit and kaboodle:)

Bummer

My dad hates, hates the phrase, "That sucks." I can't say I blame him, I mean it is rather foul. Nonetheless there are moments in life when my mom, sister, and I agree that it is the only way to describe a situation. We don't use it often, after all we value Dad's opinion and our own propriety, but there are days, moments rather, when it very succinctly describes an acutely felt frustration.

I had a "that sucks" moment today. Several actually, but the crowning one was discovering that the plague, otherwise known as the highly contagious stomach flu, is still working its way through the ranks of the Adams family. More specifically, I am bound to get it soon. After all, I have the immune system of an infant and illness seeks me like moth to flame. I can handle the sick part, I'm used to it, and after all I've been through childbirth. No, the worst part is that I am supposed to go visit my college girlfriends this weekend.

My college girlfriends are rare. All stunningly beautiful, they are also the kind of friends that make me dissolve into a joyful puddle. Having shared college, we were with each other for first (and last) loves, first kisses (believe it or not), first alcoholic beverages, trips to Europe, endless nights/mornings in the library, and the last steps from adolescence into independence. They watched me become an adult, they stood beside me at my wedding. They are raw and honest with me, affirming and loyal. The upcoming weekend is our third March reunion in a row, and this annual trip gives me a re-boot like you wouldn't believe. My husband looks forward to this weekend because of my resulting mood.

As you have already seen coming, I am not going. Sucks with a capital "S". I can see you cringing with me as you read this. I can't go because I'll probably be parked in el baño for most of the weekend, (judging by the sleuth-like nature of above described viral plague), or at least will have passed on germs to my friends, their husbands, and their babies. As I cannot live with either option, I have decided to stay home. Like I said, they watched me become an adult--and now I am making an adult decision.

You can imagine that as I walked in the door from the grocery store, having firmly planted in my mind my decision, tears were brimming dangerously near my eyeballs. So when the first thing I saw was my one-and-a-half year old sitting in his daddy's lap, facing him and smiling the biggest and most genuine smile I'd seen all day, I was so grateful. Because you know, maybe Jonathan will get sick this weekend too, and I will be there to hold that sweet little face when the smile is forgotten and he is teary-eyed. I will be there to cuddle with him and rub his back and fill up his juice exactly how he likes it. I may not be with my girlfriends, but at least I can be mom.

I was rocking Jonathan to sleep tonight and pondering my ill-fated weekend when I suddenly remembered I hadn't gotten my goodnight kiss. He was half asleep in the dark, the music playing a soft classical lullaby in our ears. His little cheek lay on my shoulder and his sausage fingers played mindlessly with my hair. "Can I have a kiss," I asked. Without hesitation he groggily lifted his sleepy head, puckered up like a fish, and waited for me to put my lips in front of his. A little peck, and he lay back down on my shoulder.

It's the little things. The little things that make the big things bearable. These little blessings, the soft kisses and genuine smiles, the fact that my husband picked up the toys the other day so that I didn't have to, the fact that one of above described college friends called today just to check on me, my daily 8:00 am phone call from a good friend, the endearing shout-outs I get in my sister's blog. Those little things add up, you know, and make me feel like although this whole sickness/ruined plans/missing old girlfriends thing is downright stupid I know it'll be okay.

All of this will be okay, because God keeps reminding me with these little gifts that He's making castles out of my ruins. He's making a great cake from the inadequate ingredients I've got. And all of this stupid stuff is part of it.

At Ginny's for dinner

Ginny Evans, my sister that is, and her husband Mark just moved into a new house. It is darling, with old hardwood floors and vintage crown molding that pulls the eye up to a charmingly uneven ceiling. The large wooden rimmed windows and brick covered porch are delightfully reminiscent of a former era, while the contrasting front-load washer/dryer with bright blue lights that beep and jet-black refrigerator (that also beeps with bright blue lights) add a modern comfort of their own. Josh and I visited last night for dinner, and having bypassed the whole moving ordeal due to the fact that the Evans' had so many offers to help as well as no need for a one-and-a-half year old to terrorize progress, we offered to bring dinner.

I was expecting a hearty, "Yes, pleeease," to follow this offer. After all, Ginny and Mark are currently living amidst large, bulky, unpacked boxes and are without running water (it couldn't be turned on on a Sunday). Their spices are not to be found, their water glasses are still being pulled out of boxes that were haphazardly labeled "clothing", and every last penny was just spent on a trip to IKEA to furnish their very first house. A paid for dinner on paper seemed like a good idea. Silly me.

Cooking, for Ginny, is like therapy. When most women turn to chocolate, a good sitcom, a glass of wine, or exercise Ginny fires up the oven. So while we were placing glasses on shelves and trying to wade through packing tape and cardboard, Ginny was cooking for us. Jonathan ran willy nilly through the new house (or should I say, glorious new playground) and Ginny pulled marinated chicken out of her brand new freezer to toss on the George Foreman. The chicken filled the room with a spicy, yet sweet and delicious aroma, sweet potatoes baked in the toaster, spinach salad was tossed in a bowl, and the table was set to entertain.

You read right: I asked her if she wanted me to set the table with paper towels, but oh no. She somehow remembered that her table linens were in the bottom drawer of a small bookshelf in another room of the house. Not to disappoint her, I cleaned off the tablecloth, swept the floor of wayward paint chips, and set the table with Williams and Sonoma linens. She even had matching yellow daisies in a vase for the centerpiece. Soon we were sitting around a beautifully bedecked table, not a disposable plate or fork in sight, with grilled chicken, succulent sweet potatoes topped with brown sugar, and a colorful spinach salad. And wine.

I've got to hand it to the woman-- when I move into my next house you're all welcome, but it'll be Papa John's or bust. With paper towels.

First ice cream cone!!

I don't know if you can see this in the pictures, but it was a delightfully messy affair... the ice cream cone's fate was the Chick'fil'A floor.

Mi familia

Afore mentioned redheaded hero. (The one to the left is who I was referring to in last blog post.)

Lavender and Onions

Isn't that just the most wonderful title for anything? Soap, a book, a clothing store, a cooking store, a restaurant, a blog. It is actually the title of my friend Sarah's new blog, about her happenstance new life in Europe. She is a petite Texan with a quick wit, a sharp mind, and a fabulous magnetic pull to adventure. Read on, I know you'll love it: sarahinsuisse.wordpress.com

I myself got choked up with the desire for adventure just reading it, and must now go immerse myself in a novel to experience the thrill of piracy, long-lost loves, and red headed heroes on half broke horses. Well, at least I've got the red headed hero.

We got a tad bit more snow just yesterday, and while this photo is not current I want you to see how cute Jonathan is when he's fully decked out!