I hear the train a-coming...

This evening on the train, I sat watching a dude who looked like The Sartorialist threw up all over him. I mean, seriously. With his fancy briefcase and his pants rolled just-so to reveal that he wasn't wearing any (visible) socks with his fancy shoes. Even the buttons on his blazer were fancy, in an understated Euro kind of way. I really expected him to get off the train and unlock a fancy retro bike to ride home on. But he was chewing this ENORMOUS piece of gum, and for whatever reason, I found myself unable to look away from him. It's awkward when you know you're staring and you just can't stop, you're only hoping not to get caught. I don't think Mr. Sartorialist noticed my staring--I was sitting far enough away.

I also played one of my favorite games in my head with him--the "which stop is this guy getting off at?" game. I lost today--big. I thought FOR SURE this guy was getting off at the hipsteriest stop on the line, two before my stop. When he didn't get off there (shocking!) I thought, okay, he must be a slightly poorer or grungier hipster than I thought--getting off two stops after mine. All that when, in fact, he got off at the same time I did. I couldn't believe it. I didn't see him after leaving the station, so he must have gone the other way. One of the things I love so much about this city is that I could see him again tomorrow afternoon, riding the train home. Or I could never see him again. Who knows.

summertime chi...it's the good life

Summertime in Chicago is borderline magical. People are PSYCHED about the fact that it's summer (I guess that's what happens when you spend 8 months of the year in hibernation). One of the best things about living here in the summer---aside from the weather, and the patios (so many patios), and the beaches---is that people want to come visit you, which means you get to do all the touristy things you wanted to do anyway under the guise of being a good host. PLUS, you get to see all kinds of people you love without having to go anywhere. Seriously. Awesome.

The hubs and I are fortunate enough to have a place big enough to put up a fair number of people comfortably, and over the next couple of months we're going to have a bunch of people in and out and I couldn't be more excited about it.

The other thing the summertime has meant is that it's nice enough for me to run outside. I say "run" and what I really mean is "old man shuffle." You know what I mean. Where you're not really walking, but you're also going so slowly old ladies with walkers could be passing you. Anyway, despite my ridiculous pace, I've been pretty consistent about it over the last month and a half or so, and honestly, feeling really good. When I stop working out, I always forget how much better I feel when I am working out consistently. It's like it's good for me or some shit.

It's going to be so sad when fall comes. Ah, well. For now: it's the good life.

Unsolicited Uterus Update: Still Empty

I had a SUPER vivid dream this week, which almost never happens to me. Or at least, I almost never remember my dreams. Anyway, in said dream I was pregnant. Like super pregnant. And people's reactions to it were sort of the most hilarious part. The hubs was ecstatic. Liz, you were INSANELY mad at me. Like, taking it as a personal affront that I would do this to you.

Anyway, as I mentioned a few posts ago, I feel like everyone around me is having babies. I think when I mentioned it, I probably sounded like a petulant little kid, annoyed (like Liz) that people would be doing this to me. I don't want to be old enough for all my friends to be parents! I don't want to stop being a mostly irresponsible asshole! The truth is, though, I really couldn't be happier for all the parents and soon-to-be parents in my life. It does, of course, freak me out that I'm old enough to be a mom, and that sometimes when I see an especially cute kid, I do have a twinge of...what is that? maternal instinct? overactive ovaries? Then when the kid gets hysterical, I feel a wave of relief that I'm not actually its mom.

The hubs and I sometimes talk about having kids, as a sort of "yeah...someday we should do that" kind of thing. Or we'll see one of those cute kids pre-hysteria and joke about kidnapping it. (There was a blonde two year old girl at the hubs's family camping trip this year that spoke French. I was concerned we might make it back to Chicago and I actually would discover her in the trunk.) Given how much fear it strikes in me to even wake up from a dream where I was preggers, I wonder if I'll ever think "yes, this is the time. we are totes ready to be ONE HUNDRED PERCENT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE WELFARE OF ANOTHER, HELPLESS HUMAN BEING." I'm guessing no? I don't even take very good care of my own damn self. But I guess we'll probably do it anyway. Someday. A long, long time from now.