Tag Archives: Chicago

the dance.

31 Jul

“Trim.”

The whirl of the winch, the spin of the handle.

“Good.”

The sound of the waves rushing past, rapping the hull like a rhythmic drum verse; a pulse as we ride up the mountainous swell and surf down the other side, deep into its trough.

“Trim.”

Whoosh. Arms and hands a smear of gray as they spin around and around pulling in the ease on the sheet.

“Trim!”

“It’s me! I’m coming down, I’m coming down.”

A flap of the chute, a snap really, as it settles back into position. Full and bright. A parachute tugging its charge down a watery path.

“Trim.”

The early morning sun is starting to wake. She stretches her glittery rays up above her head tickling the high clouds and winking a soulful “good morning!” to the rolling waters of Lake Michigan.

The sailors pause a moment, faces angled to the east, embracing the golden warmth of the rays, drinking in the colors of the birth of a new morning.

A moment later, the chute, indignant that it be ignored in the face of a new day, signals its displeasure with a loud snap as it folds into itself.

Startled, the sailors return their attention to the roiling waters, the wind, the sway of their vessel.

“Trim.”

trim

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ebb and flow.

5 Apr

You know what’s interesting?

My thinking spot in Chicago was a spot right on the lake; a little spot as far out on a little point of land as you could go without leaping into the icy depths of Lake Michigan. A spot way away from the noise of the road and hustle and bustle of the city.

Here, in the midst of the beauty and seclusion of our mountainous sentials, I still find myself reflecting on my life in a little spot right on the banks of Lake Dillon. It’s not always the most secluded or the quietest, but I still find myself seeking out the ebb and flow of the water and the wind.

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the man in the moon.

28 Oct

Three years ago the cycles of the moon were far from the top of my mind. What, with streetlights, headlights, traffic lights, the lights at Wrigley, or even the lights shining out of my neighbor’s kitchen window, my bustling city was alive with color and light 24 hours a day.

Several days a week I went for morning runs, oftentimes up an hour before the sun made its lengthy climb to the top of the sky. And though the sun had yet to rise, I never concerned myself with anything more than the reflectors on my shoes and running vests, as I knew that the headlights on the cabs whizzing down the darkened street would make me glow, announcing my presence to their drivers.

Up here in the High Country, where power outages are bi-monthly occurrences and streetlights are nearly unheard-of, the cycles of the moon play an integral part in our daily lives.

On evenings where the New Moon is nestled deep in the night sky, it is as though the moon has extinguished all that is left of the shadows of the day. It buries the Earth’s surface in a blanket of darkness so thick it feels as though you are swimming through an ocean of black, unable to see but a few feet in front of you, feeling your way down the street lead only by your sense of touch and your sense of smell. On nights like this, the stars are on full display, drawing your gaze upwards to witness them dance and twinkle their way across the indigo sky, a trail of star-dust left in their wake.

The darkness of the New Moon is followed by the light of the Full. Where the New Moon extinguishes the shadows left by the day, the Full Moon creates shadows of its own, reflecting on and bouncing off of anything that intercepts its rays. The Full Moon enshrouds the mighty peaks in a glowing cape of yellow light, reflecting off of the snow and illuminating the clouds. On nights like these, I lay in bed and bathe in the soft glow of the moon settling in above my window; letting it wrap me in a gentle embrace, caressing and soothing as I am lulled to sleep.

winterspring/summer

25 Jun

A photo montage of life to date.

 

 

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petrichor.

23 Jun

A soft breeze blows gently.

It caresses my hot skin as though it were silk, whispering through the quaking Aspens that stand sentinel off of my front porch. My skin erupts in a cascade of goose bumps as the cool air rushes to catch up with the heady barbecue smoke drifting from the grill next door.

Rain is coming.

Perhaps it will bring with it booming claps of thunder and bright shards of lightning, baring off of their clouds as though running from the rain itself.

Perhaps it will blow south to Breckenridge, or perhaps north to Steamboat, Lake Dillon and our Rocky Mountains doing their best to redirect the wind, the rain, the lighning, the thunder, and the clouds that are shrouding Red and Buffalo in a fog of a brooding Aegean blue.

I recently learned that the smell of the rain hitting the dry ground has a name, an identity of its own.

Petrichor.

Somehow, the word, Petrichor, takes away from the scent that punctuates so much of the summers of my childhood in the Midwest.

Summer has a mythical quality that, at least in my case, stems from childhood.

The excitement of long days on beach, the sand, dusty and hot, between my toes and the chilling waters of Lake Michigan making my feet, my hands, and my spine ache with cold.

The shrieks and cheers of summer nights spent playing “Kick the Can” with neighborhood kids of all ages, our own little block party situated in the midst of our neighbors’ bushes and trees, all within 50 steps of the can, itself situated in the middle of the street.

The chorus of halyards as the lines sing their song against the mast; the gentle rocking of the waves as the harbor softly recites a lullaby and lulls you off to sleep.

Ice cream, Chocolate Chocolate Chip, dripping down your cone, down your hand and up your arm; a secret salty, sweet smack as you discreetly lick the drip clean from your appendage.

Petrichor.

Though the word is bit scientific for me, the smell, the identity of the rain?

It means everything.

a glitzy girls weekend.

18 May

Guys, I am officially O.L.D.

I was in Chicago a week ago “sending Mer on her marry way” (aka Mercedes’s bachelorette extravaganza) and it has taken me exactly a week to feel like myself again.

A WEEK!

Last night I was in bed at 9:30pm and did not wake up until 8:00 this morning. Sorry to Ms. May as her legs were crossed by the time I finally lugged myself out of the cozy confines of my bed, but thanks for allowing me to catch up on some much need Zzzzz’s, I feel like a new woman!

Anyway, our girls weekend in the Windy City was everything a girls weekend should be, and more. Mer had no idea what was in store until the activities unfolded one by one and watching her eyes light up as we began each event was priceless. I have never been a fan of bachelorette parties (I know,I know, what chick doesn’t like all the glitz and glam associated with a “bride’s final fling”?) as they generally bring about the worst kind of nasties in the girls involved; someone always cries, someone else always gets too drunk and tosses her penis-shaped cookies, and there is always unnecessary drama when it comes to the planning. And while last weekend’s shindig consisted of lots of penis-shaped confetti, sparkles, champagne, and toasts to the bride-to-be, I was shocked to come to the realization that the entire weekend was A BLAST. There was no drama, we didn’t break the bank, Mer had the time of her life, and the amount of giggles heard throughout was endless.

Mer has a total of three bridesmaids. Myself (Mer’s bff from the mountains), Kait (Mer’s bff from middle school), and Sara (Mer’s bff from Purdue) and other than an endless string of emails churning back and forth between the three of us, the bridesmaids had never met before this weekend. The entire weekend consisted of the three of us showering the bride (as well as my fab parents who hosted us on Slapshot on Saturday, thanks mom and dad!) with our love and excitement for her future. And the cool thing was, even though we had all, with the exception of Mer, just met for the first time upon our arrival in the city, it felt like we had all known each forever by the time we went our separate ways on Sunday afternoon.

Here is the complete agenda, along with a couple of thoughts on the activities.

Friday

Lunch: Giordano’sin my mind the first place prize for the battle for the best pizza in the land will forever go to Giordano’s.

Dinner: Siena Taverndelicious food, flavors were well-developed and diverse, though not a bit overpowering. The four of us split the grilled octopus appetizer, the burata appetizer, the Carne Pizza, and the Roasted Carrot Tortellacci. We probably could have ordered an additional pasta, but because of our pizza lunch we were fine with the above. The only downside to me was that the staff was a bit uppity and seemed to think that the patrons should feel lucky to be eating at Siena Tavern. Being that three of the four of us also make a living in the service industry, I do not appreciate being made to feel as though I am putting the staff out by being asking them to serve me. 

Post-Dinner Activity #1: Drag Show at The BatonOMG. This was an absolute riot and the perfect way to set the stage for an easy-going girls weekend. Tickets were $17/person and Sara did all the legwork to order them in advance. There is a two drink minimum and they make the drinks strong, so be sure to order a water with your beverage! 

Post-Dinner Activity #2:  Howl at the Moon, live music and dancing?! Always a good way to end the night!

Saturday

Activity #1: Silks Class via TSNY, ChicagoI was a bit wary of this activity prior to our arrival as my upper-body strength is similar to that of a noodle, but I absolutely loved every minute of it. We learned four tricks and it was a great way to start the day, as you got a bit of exercise in, plus it made for great photo opps. If I still lived in Chicago, I would definitely sign up for additional classes. 

Activity #2: “BYOB Cruise” on Lake Michigan. Originally we had talked about booking a boat cruise out of Navy Pier, but when my dad offered to be our Captain aboard Slapshot, the girls and I happily jumped aboard. 

Dinner: Union Sushi + Barbeque Bar, loved the hip, yet casual vibe. Delicious rolls and snazzy drinks. We shared the Beef Filet, the Prosciutto-wrapped Scallop, the Cauliflower, and the Squid from the bbq bar and then ordered four sushi rolls. It was perfect, though I loved the beef filet and squid, so I probably could’ve ordered another of each 🙂

Activity #3: Bye, Bye Liveran improv drinking show that pokes fun at the bar/drinking culture in the city, complete with drinking games. Hilarious.

Sunday

Breakfast: Bub Citynot impressed. Found bones in my breakfast sandwich (Sausage, Egg, and Cheese Biscuit Sandwich), service was terrible. The bartender and our server seemed like they were completely disinterested in being at work and the bartender was sucking down her Starbucks like it was nobody’s business. Won’t be back, which is unfortunate because I had heard great things prior to my experience.

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30 years.

22 Mar

Happy anniversary to my mom and dad on their 30th wedding anniversary!

I love you!

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