A First Time for Everything

A few things La and I did over the weekend that we've NEVER done before:

1. La had her first ever sleepover at a friend's house Friday night. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision resulting in La going along to see the Disney/Pixar movie WALL-E with her buddy and buddy's mom and having the time of her life.

2. I got to GO OUT in Chicago that night, which may as well have been the first time, since I can't recall the last.

3. Saturday morning, a cute young stay-at-home mom came with her 19-month old daughter and her 2 dogs to pick up Bro. And she actually kept him for a whole day, WHICH IS A FIRST. She even called this morning to tell me that he's doing great and everything is going extremely well. Score! I'm officially weenie-free and proud to be. (I know. You don't have to say it ... How can I be so HEARTLESS?!!!) But honestly, according to his new owner, Bro is the happiest little nugget you've ever seen. He doesn't even miss us one bit.

4. We went to the beach on Saturday, as usual, but this time was different. La FELL ASLEEP on the blanket (apparently she was overtired from the sleepover). So, for the first time ever, I got to lay on the beach and soak up some delicious rays. (Usually I'm in the water with La making sure she doesn't drown)(Or I'm making sure her swimsuit is still covering certain parts of her body)(Or I'm ensuring that she doesn't come within 2 feet of a seagull ... disgusting little varmints)(Or I'm haphazardly tossing La around in the water as she screams, "No! No! I'm going to DIE!" ... I tell ya. So heartless.)

5. Then, last night, La and I went to a cookout at Aunt M's friends house, where La played corhole for the first time. She was REALLY GOOD at it, as you can plainly see:

6. Then, today, La and I met up with Aunt M, Renee and Poonam (plus 395,000 other Chicagoans) to watch our first ever Gay Pride Parade, which happened to go right past my street. These ROTC guys were pretty impressive:

7. Tonight, La and I WALKED together the whole way to Aunt M's (1.3 miles) and La didn't even ask me to carry her until we were two blocks away from M's place. Never done that before. Go La!

8. On our way to M's, we saw a lot of "leftovers" from the parade. Most of them were looking a little disheveled, wearing rainbow boas and staggering back and forth on the sidewalk or puking in a garbage can, but SOME of them were driving gargantuan grocery carts with motors ... which neither La nor I have EVER seen before.

9. And now, since it's well after 9 p.m., I'm going to go crawl into La's bed with her and catch some Z's. Because I've NEVER slept in her bed before. What can I say? It's a good night to try something new.

Going BANANAS!

Nothing can brighten a girl's day like a new pair of kicks. Yep, gentlemen take note: The way to a girl's heart is not jewelry, not flowers, and not food. (unless you're this kind of chef. YUM.) 

The way to a girl's heart is SHOES. At least for me. 

Anyway, my day sort of went downhill when I got home tonight. La was being unruly. The dog was going ballistic, the load of white laundry I did tonight turned a nice shade of rusty brown (whoops, forgot they were shutting the water off earlier today, hence, rusty water this evening!). 

But, lo, I bring you good tidings. All is well in the Ka, La and Bro household. And it's all on account of the fact that I have me some new shoes. They came in the mail today from the oh-so-chic and sacred Banana Republic. They are true gems. A glistening light at the end of today's tunnel.

Here they are in all their blissful glory:

I love them.

Aunt Kathleen will invariably call these granny shoes. But, I will call them fashionably sophisticated and practically perfect in every way. Just like Mary Poppins. 

Did I particularly NEED these shoes? NO. I didn't. Did I want them? Duh. AND they were on sale (Do I ever buy anything full price? No. Thank you Grandpa Cal for teaching me how to be so goshdarn frugal. Where would I be without that valuable lesson?). Gramps, it could be worse. I could have gone and bought me some Manolo Blahnik's like these bad boys.

Ready, Aim, BACKFIRE!

Last night, La, Aunt M and I took sweet little Bro to the dog beach. To give him away. He's never been to the dog beach, and he absolutely LOVED IT. You can sort of see him being attacked by a pit-bull in the above video. It's not the best footage of the dog beach, but it's all I got. For some reason during the filming, I stopped focusing the camera on Bro and instead started batting at the pit-bull with my open palm until his owner came to grab and reprimand his satan-dog. 

Anyway, I found some Craig's-listers that seemed like the perfect match, so we decided to meet there at the beach. The couple was just married at the beginning of the month, and have a little weenie dog named Moses (too cute). The wife is currently in Seminary to become a minister, and the husband helps run a homeless shelter. (Too bad they don't have rewarding careers or anything. I mean come on!). Both were outgoing and very nice, and they LOVED Bro, which was a definite plus. 

So, we hung out with them for about an hour, and I was like, "Well, you can just take him tonight if you want." And they were all about it. The wife kept saying how much she loved Brody, and how perfect this was going to be. And she was saying all sorts of sweet nothings to him like, "Brody, oh Brody, YOU ARE SO CUTE!!! Where have you been all my life little sugar pea? Moses is just going to LOVE YOU. Yes he is! Yes he is! Love you to pieces!!!"

We left the dog beach Brody-free. It was a little sad, I have to admit, but the song running through my head – Freedom by George Michael in case you're wondering – sure helped lift my spirits. La, however, cried the whole way home and then cried during her entire bath, and then cried herself to sleep. It was very upsetting, but I consoled her by telling her that Bro would be MUCH happier in a home with another dog.

Then, at 7:00 this morning, the made-in-heaven, PERFECT MATCH, new parents of Bro stopped over to return the weenie.

Yes, you heard me right. 

They gave him right back to me precisely 10 hours after deciding to take him. Apparently, he was humping their dog all night long and WOULD NOT STOP until they shut him into a separate room. No one in their household got an ounce of sleep last night because Bro was scratching and wining incessantly from behind closed doors about how BADLY he wanted to hump poor Moses. (Such sacrilege! Humping a dog named Moses. Goodness!)

I called my BFF Kristin in San Francisco, and she said it reminded her of that song that goes something like, "The cat came back the very next day, the cat came back, we thought he was a goner, but the cat came back, he just wouldn't stay awaaaay."

How miserable. I'm thinking to myself, okay, this woman is in Seminary, dealing with deep spiritual issues all day long, and this dude deals with the homeless, which I'm sure can be trying at times, and they can't even handle MY DOG. 

I hope some lovely family will take him soon ... oh, right, AND KEEP HIM.

Explaining the Rules of Genetics to a 4-Year Old

A conversation La and I just had:

La: Mom, what's your favorite dinner?

Me: You know what it is.

La: Sushi?

Me: Yep, what's your favorite dinner?

La: Umm ... hmmm ... PASTA!

Me: That's probably because you're Italian.

La: Yeah, just like you.

Me: No, I'm not Italian.

La: WHAT???!!!

Me: Nope, not a drop of Italian in me.

La: (very long pause) Well, I will also NOT BE Italian when I grow up. Just like you.

Me: No, you'll always be Italian because your daddy is Italian.

La: Huh?

Me: Well, that means that half of you comes from your daddy, and it will always be that way.

La: (blank stare)

Me: Yeah, half of your genes are from your dad. You look like me, but you also look like him.

La: But I don't have a bald head.

Me: I know, BUT STILL, half of your genetic makeup is from your dad. Like, you see, you have your daddy's blood in you AND you have my blood in you. Both of our blood is in you.

La: Gross.

No Amount of Alcohol Can Soothe These Fried Nerves.

Yowza.

Today I babysat a very adorable friend of La's. She's a buddy from school, and her mom was in a bind, so I said we would take her with us to the beach today.

It was an interesting day. La's little buddy is QUITE the handful (to put it very, very mildly). She's like Dennis the Menace, but in girl form. However, I'm going to look at the positive side and chalk it up to experience, reminding myself that this was a good test of my patience (I passed the test. I did not ever curse directly at the child all day. Not even once. All cussing was kept "under my breath" and very discreet) (I did however point at her with a fairy wand and threaten to take her straight back to her mother if she didn't stop beating the neighboring building's shrubbery with the other fairy wand).

It really wasn't that bad, but I'm also pretty sure I heard a chorus of sweet angels singing glorious melodies when I dropped her off at her mom's work.

Okay. Let's rewind.

This weekend was full of all sorts of fun. On Saturdays, we usually hit up the Green City Market, which is right outside of Aunt M's front door. This week, they had sushi chefs teaching the kiddos how to make various forms of sushi. La was ALL ABOUT IT.

She wanted to help the chef so badly, so she just walked right up and asked him if she could help. What a sport.

Good thing he said yes!

Yum. The stuff La is holding below is filled with berries, wrapped in kiwi, and then covered with frosting.

Saturday evening, we went to a rooftop party at my friend, Renee's place. She lives in a newly constructed high-rise downtown right by Millennium Park. Sweet. Except the whole time we were up there on the 30th floor, I was envisioning La climbing up onto the 5-foot high cement wall and teetering on the brink of death. 

I'm having heart palpitations right now as I type.

Aunt M was getting SO annoyed with me, and repeatedly had to remind me that we are all watching her like hawks, that she couldn't even climb up there if she tried, and why EVER would she even try? She's totally frightened of heights. Seriously. STOP WORRYING.

So, instead of worrying, I decided to live a little and let La have a hot dog. Now, normally, I would NEVER let her eat that processed, who-knows-what's-in-it "meat-ish" garbage. But I was all like, "Well, could be worse. She could be teetering on top of that cement barrier right now. But she's not. She's rotting her insides with a hotdog instead. Phew."

And the kid enjoyed every bite.

And I enjoyed every moment in the company of my college girlfriends. It was great to see them. It seems so much has changed in the last 4 years, but a lot is still the same. It was great to catch up. I hope we can do it again soon.

 

You may have a SLIGHT addiction if ...

... you walk into the living room and your daughter is kneeling near the couch where she has propped two books up in the shape of a "computer" and is feverishly "typing" away. And then you ask, "La, what are you doing?" And she responds with, "Shhh. I'm blogging."

And then, in response to her demand, you just shut up and walk out of the room without saying another word. 

Because you TOTALLY empathize.

Note: I blame my (and La's) addiction on my work buddy, Angela, who chucked me into the wide world of blog, never to return.

One Reason Why Some May Label Me "A Few Peas Short of a Casserole"

Got Sand in the Britches ...

... but who's complaining?

Oh, THE BEACH. How I love thee. 

We went there last Saturday, and then we went this Saturday, and somehow we ended up there again on Sunday. I have a nice suntan going, and La has met LOTS of new beach pals. 

I'm guessing hangin' at the beach in the summertime will be our favorite weekend pastime. Kind of like ice skating was for us in the wintertime. 

I'll say it again; I love this town.

Who the ...? What the ...?

Why am I awake right now, you ask? It is 8:14 a.m. and I have been up now for 2 whole hours. Darn sunlight. La wakes up whenever the sun does. 

Holy headache.

You see, last night my uncle John and his lovely girlfriend, Molly (not to be confused with aunt M) came into town for Molly's aunt's art exhibition. There was a lot of wine there. And beer. And not a whole lot of food ... and I was SO THIRSTY right when we arrived at the gallery that I downed 3 glasses of wine and two cute mini coronas in cute little glass bottles, all in about 12 minutes, so I had a nice little feeling going on right from the get-go (dad, I know you think downing 5 drinks in less than a half-hour makes me a certified alcoholic, but remember that I only go out 2 to 3 times a year). 

We had a lot of fun. Molly's Aunt, Mary Klug is a fabulous artist, actually. Her self portrait is simply AMAZING. I asked her if it was for sale and got shot down. Not that I could have afforded it, but still. It's stunning. I want it.

Here's Aunt M and I posing for our own self-portrait. I didn't realize that the camera was set on "film." Whoops.

After the art show, we went out in what's known as Chicago's "Viagra Triangle." ... where we had late night food and more beer. It was great to see the two of them. Hopefully they'll come visit again soon!

Admitting Defeat

After careful thought and much consideration, La and I have decided to find a new home for the weenie. You see, we are really not “dog people” we’ve discovered. Here are a couple of examples of what I mean:

La: Mom, Let’s go to THE PARK!!!

Me: Great idea! I love THE PARK!!!

La: Yay, can I go on the slide?

Me: Yep, you can go on the slide.

La: Can I go on the swings?

Me: Yes, you can go on the swings.

La: Yay! 

Me: (reluctantly glancing downward at the little doggy-dude) Should we bring Bro with us?

Both: Stare at each other for a long while.

La: No, let’s just leave him here.

Me: OH THANK GOD.

Another Example:
**This conversation took place while walking home from La’s school the other day:

Me: So, I was thinking that we should find a new home for Bro where he will be happier. What do you think?

La: A new home? But, he will be SOOOO SAD without us!

Me: Yes, he might be sad, but he will also be happy because hopefully he will be living in a home with another dog that he can play with all day.

La: But, I will be SOOOO SAD!

Me: I know. We will probably both cry a little, but Bro will be much happier.

La: I don’t want him to leave!

(We proceed to walk into the house and find that Bro has RIPPED La’s mini armchair to SHREDS and sprinkled the pieces of it evenly and precisely across every inch of the hallway and kitchen floors.)

La: (gasps) MOM! LOOK WHAAAT BROOOOODY DID!

Me: I know. (to Bro) BRODY! That was a BAD BOY!

La: (with hands on hips) We need to find him a new home RIGHT AWAY!

... And, as you can probably tell, he’s not a stay-at-home-alone-for-10-hours-a-day type dog. He’s a very social animal and goes NUTS-O when he’s alone. My neighbors say he barks all day long, which is probably why he’s completely silent in the evenings (I'm like, "What? He can bark? I've NEVER heard him bark"). His barker is probably just worn out by the time I get home from all the INSANE barking he does all day long. 

So, I posted the little weenie on Craig's List. 

Now, I've had some success in selling things on this stupendous website (like, my prior HOUSE), so my faith in Craig's List is pretty substantial (not that I'm SELLING him ... He's free to a good home). I posted him mid-day on Sunday to test his marketability (who's online anyway, right?) and within 15 minutes got somewhere around 10 replies to the ad. I think it helped that I included a photo. He IS rather cute, I must say. I removed the posting immediately and weeded through the responses. I found 2 great candidates. One is a guy in Andersonville who has a female lab mix and works a couple doors down from his apartment and goes home multiple times a day to check on his dog. The other is a girl who just graduated from Notre Dame and is lonely in her apartment. I would prefer for Bro to be in a home with another dog to keep him company, so Andersonville dude is ahead by one point.

I also contacted my dog walker, Stephanie, and she sent out an e-mail to her clients. She's also gotten a few replies from interested parties.

We’re meeting with one of the people who replied to Stephanie this weekend. This woman (Kate) has a female mini daschund almost the same age as Bro, and this particular pup happens to be his “girlfriend.” Brody has played with Kate's pup while staying with Stephanie overnight, and Stephanie says they were inseparable. They played nicely all day and then curled up together to sleep at night. 

That's just what Bro needs, I think. A pal to play with all day so that he’s not lonely and insecure. Hopefully this woman sees past his flaws and wants the little guy. And, I hope this is the right decision.

Grandma Fern, I know you'll be all distraught about this. I know you love the little guy SO MUCH. It's okay. Don't worry. I'll find something else to hump your leg when you come over. Maybe a ferett.

Might Sound Like I'm Complaining, But it's JUST SO HOT.

It's so hot in my condo right now. La is currently sweating buckets (due to her Italian heritage, I presume) while I sit here, NOT SWEATING because I'm Norwegian or something and apparently we can't sweat. So, the heat inside my body simply swelters there and turns my body into a raging inferno and my mood into, well, something NOT GOOD. I want to leap out of my own skin and into a vat of ice water cream. It's got to be 112 degrees. At LEAST. So, if I don't make any sense right now, it's the heat stroke talking. Lampshade grass blue doodle peanut pencil.

SO

HOT

IN

HERE.

Okay, so, this weekend we spent most of our time at Aunt M's fantastic [air conditioned] new apartment. It was tons of fun ... We:

... walked to the beach,

... went to Farm in the Zoo, which is a Farm in Lincoln Park, attached to the Zoo. Neat. 

There's just something charming about bovine in the city.

Here's La smiling despite the stench of cow manure: 

... at the farm, we got to see baby chicks, and then La even got to BE one. Cutest little chick I ever saw.

... and then we went on a paddle boat ride where Aunt M did all the paddling and I took all the pictures. M's quads are still burning.

... and La got something in her eye, which reminded me of the stinkeye scene from Juno. For some reason (might it be my delirious state of consciousness due to heat exhaustion?) this picture cracks me up. Maybe no one else will think this is funny. But I do. 

Stinkeye. 

Ha.

Today, we went to the greenhouse. And, MAN ALIVE. It was REALLY hot. It was like 100 degrees outside, and 200 degrees inside that wretched amazingly beautiful place.

And after I told La for the 15th time not to pick the flowers, she was SO OVER that place. This look says, "Dude, can we go now? It's SWELTERING in here. And I can't even pick a dang flower." 

Amen sister. 

It was another great weekend in the Windy City. Just wishin it were a little windier at the moment.

Sometimes La ...

... looks just like an Olsen Twin.

SCARY.

Just some photos and stuff

Last Friday was red, white and blue day at school. Which means it was fuchsia, off-white and navy day for La. Quite the fashionista, I must say.

Here she is at Aunt M and Kate's new place the other night, expressing her love of fashion again. Kate let La wear her cute apron and some fancy shoes. La spent 2 hours playing in Kate's "dress up" clothes. Don't ask me where she learned this pose. Then we got on the bus and headed home, which turned out to be the most embarrassing bus ride I've ever taken. La kept indiscreetly pointing at the [totally manly-looking] guy across from us and asking VERY LOUDLY if he was a girl or a boy. I think it was because he was wearing a tank top. 

Here's gramps and La sitting on an old couch outside of Aunt M's apartment on Saturday. This shot was taken just before a guy walked by and mentioned that he had seen a cat pee on that couch earlier. Um, GROSS. 

And here La and I are at the playground by my house. Nice view, huh?

Jed Clampett and Kin

This past weekend, we moved Aunt M from the north side of Lincoln Park to the South side of Lincoln Park. Our parents came into town along with Uncle Aaron to help with the big move, and it went pretty smoothly. There was nary a swearword spoken, which is quite an accomplishment for our family. My brother only ticked me off once (when he SERIOUSLY equated the itching of his healing sunburn to the pain of childbirth ... while I was sitting next to Aunt M's stuff, within reach of a large pointed decorative reed-thing. Dude is lucky he still has both eyes.)

So, it was actually a good time, all that moving business. However, while we were moving my sis into her new place on the border of Lincoln Park and Old Town (read: SNOBSVILLE), my dad decided to take a little break and sun himself right on Lincoln Avenue next to the dumpster:

No shame. WHATSOEVER. And you know what? He won't even be upset with me for making fun of him on my blog today. Want to know why? Because he is proud of being a hillbilly. Yes, indeed. PROUD I say. 

Just ask him about the double-wide in Arkansas that he one day wishes to possess. And the bait shop on some podunk lake that he's going to open and call, "Dave's Bait Shop" (cleaver), oh, and don't forget to ask him about his rusty boat with a two-cycle engine that stalls in the middle of the lake. And about the 5-pack of economy-sized Hunts Ketchup he recently snagged at Big Lots. Yes, Big Lots.

*sigh* 

Well doggies! It's not longer a mystery why he feels out of place in this city.