I Could Write a Book

    One of my best ever trips in my life was to Chicago with a group of some wonderful girlfriends. When I think of those 4 days I think of nothing but total fun. We went out to eat. We went shopping. We went to see Wicked. Oh, I just bought the soundtrack 2 days ago and that’s all I’ve listened to since.

I didn’t grow up with this group of friends. Nope. We all met online. Whenever I try and explain that to "real-life" friends they think I’m totally nuts. Know what, though ? My "group" of friends would do anything in the world for me in a heartbeat. They were all there for me during my pregnancy with my 2nd son, through Katrina, through the adoption of my daughter, through my vents about my husband, mother, pediatricians, tennis frustrations and on and on and on. They give me advice. They send out hugs and cards and phone calls when they know I need them. I love them all. I don’t know what I’d do without this group of friends.

Hmm. I started this post to talk about my lust for Chicago. I tell my husband that the one city in the US that I’d move to is Chicago. I love the train you take from the airport. I love the shopping. I love Oprah. I love riding in limos and eating at Geja’s. I love the Parker House. Oh, Chicago, how I love thee. I love the American Girl store. I love the breakfast they serve in the Hilton Hotel. I love all the walking you can do. I love the little bakeries and take-out sushi places along the way.

I could really live there. Well, until winter, I think. Wintertime, in the North, (I consider Chicago - North) is when the Southern girl in me would come out. I think it is winter here when it hits 50 degrees. How on earth would I survive below freezing temperatures ? Bwahaha. I wouldn’t. I think back to the coldest day of my life at dear ole Wolf Creek, Colorado. I was skiing and coming down a run and it felt like the snow was slicing my cheeks wide-open because of how cold it was. I headed straight to store and bought a face mask. hehe. I’m sure I looked like a masked robber, but I didn’t care. I can not handle the cold. End of story.

So, Dear Chicago, I love most everything about you. I want to visit you often, but I think I’ll stick with New Orleans. Our food and Southern hospitality can’t be beat. Neither can the heat and humidity and crime rate, but those are all different stories.  

PS. Yes, I took the photos.