Most days I feel comfortable saying that I’ve seen pretty much everything my home city has to offer. I’ve been to the tourist traps and the holes-in-the-walls. I’ve ventured to all corners of the city, and after 15 years in Chicago I thought I’d pretty much nailed down what to do and what not to do here.
But then I went to Lincoln Park Conservatory.
I have no idea why I’ve never been there.
It was a stupid cold and sleeting winter day in spring (read: late March in Chicago) and the weather threw a monkey-wrench in a scheduled pre-wedding “Meeting of the Moms.” In searching for indoor, get to know you activities, the conservatory seemed like a great alternative to window shopping in Andersonville, because moms like flowers, right?
Right. Continue reading
The time has come for an obligatory blog post about a fresh new year, and making resolutions about how I’m going to drink less and exercise more, have fewer typos and see friends more, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.
For me, 2015 wasn’t a bad year – quite good, actually – but it was a year of extreme highs and extreme lows. I’m craving a bit more consistency, so I made some pretty drastic life changes to better serve my personal and professional goals. While it’s just a coincidence these changes are lining up with the new year, like a January Joiner at the gym I’m going all in – starting now (or, Monday). Continue reading
The other day I bought an address book. It’s a tiny one that fits in my handbag and has a few notes pages in the back for important dates.
The thing is, I kept losing all my contacts when updating my phone. And, it’s annoying to try to give someone contact information in a text or over the phone when that contact information is, well, on your phone. So now I can just pull out my little address book, and bam. Everything is right there.
I know what you’re thinking… what if I lose my antiquated little address book? Well, I’ve managed to keep a passport, a set of keys, and a gaggle of cats within my grasp for 15 years, so I think I can handle an address book.
This was the most recent in a string of attempts to return to less electronic, slightly less complicated ways of doing things. Technology is great (I mean, this is a BLOG after all…), but I’ve been craving an increasingly unplugged life.
Ultimately, I’m preparing for the Zombie Apocalypse.
Wait, that’s silly and probably not going to happen. Continue reading
I’m having an internal debate about how technology might be hindering my social interactions. It’s probably hindering yours too.
I remember the first time I got a text: I was standing on Michigan Avenue looking down at my Nokia brick phone in wonderment. It seemed totally weird to type something that could take a fraction of the time to say over the phone. Fast forward about 15 years, and I’m talking to most of my friends through bitmoji’s… so, not, actually, saying anything at all. Continue reading
On the heels of my epic experiences in Ireland, I took a side trip to Paris, because, Paris.
I’ve been to Paris once before, on a tour with my French teacher, a few of my high-school classmates, and my Mom. Don’t get me wrong, that was a great trip, but I was pretty excited about the possibility of conquering this city on my own. After five weeks in close quarters, I was able to spend two and half days stretching my legs in what is arguably the most beautiful city in the world, dusting off a language I haven’t used in 15 years, and spending some quality time with… well… me. Continue reading
A pretty amazing thing about Ireland is how close everything is to everything else. In the amount of time it takes me to get to my Mom’s house in the suburbs, our group traversed into the countryside oasis of Glendalough in County Wicklow. Having spent most of my time in Dublin, I giggled a little when our tour guide told us to bring water, snacks, and appropriate hiking gear. So of course I completely ignored her and wore jeans, running shoes, and brought an umbrella (because, you know, Ireland). Continue reading
In 17 minutes, John Oliver totally nailed everything that’s wrong with food in America:
When I was a barista, I set up a donation program for our morning pastries. After 2pm, whatever wasn’t sold went in the garbage, so I arranged for someone from a residential mental health facility to come and pick them up on a daily basis. Sandwiches and salads had a one-day shelf life, and for all the reasons John Oliver discussed, we couldn’t donate them. Our solution was to bag them and place the night’s sandwiches next to the trash bin on Michigan Ave., rather than out in the dumpster, thus unofficially “donating them” to the homeless in the area.
Our dorms here in Dublin have common kitchens, each consisting of four waste bins: glass, waste, plastic and paper, and food. That’s right, food and waste aren’t the same thing. It’s been really great to live in a place where composting isn’t weird, but also a little bit frustrating to watch my American flatmates try to adjust. Not to rat on them, but I’ve found spinach in the waste bin, and plastic bags in the food bin (bins with labels on them as to what you should and shouldn’t throw in). To me, it’s a sign that we’ve conditioned ourselves into thinking that once we’re done with something it doesn’t matter where it goes. Just stick it in a bin, and it’s not our problem anymore.
I could go on, but if seeing this gets one person to eat around the bruise on an apple and throw the core next to a tree rather than tossing the whole thing in the trash, then I feel pretty good about today.