Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

So, as I venture home this weekend, I would like to reflect back on the weekend before and my adventures in Washington, DC. Now, it was a weekend filled with seeing my sister, throwing a party, attending a party, messing with cats, shopping for things I don't need, having lunch with busboys and poets, seeing old friends, watching movies, reading gossip magazines, rolling in the Goodwill van, and finding out that I don't really miss the city aside from the occasional visit.

But what will make me remember this trip a year from now, was the massive effort it took to get from O'Hare airport to my apartment the Sunday I arrived back in Chicago. Let me preface this tale of woe with the fact that it took longer for me to get from the northside of Chicago to the southside, than it did for me to travel from DC back to Chicago in the first place.

Let's start with the ill-begotten notion, when talking to my Dad, that it wouldn't take more than a little over an hour, maybe 1.5 hours to get home from the airport. I hop on the blue line ready to zone out until we hit the loop when suddenly, post-departure, someone from the CTA announces that the blue line is under repair and everyone has to get off at Cumberland (about 2 stops from the airport), board a shuttle bus that will stop at Harlem and then drop us off at Jefferson park (2 stops down) to reboard the train. Fine, whatever - I only had carry-ons with me and was traveling light. Too bad the princess in front of me decided that she had needed two huge suitcases, and a bag, and decided to throw a fit all they way to the bus, on the bus, and during the entire bus ride, and again afterwards. She can't handle all of her crap and halfway back the bus announces that she can't go any farther. She kept going, though. I'm not sure why, maybe in the spirit of goodwill, maybe due to the fact that one should always head towards the back of the bus, maybe because I was right behind her glaring like I was a serial killer - not sure, really.

Anyway, 30 minutes later, we're back at the train station and 20 minutes after that the train actually arrives. I get downtown, go above ground and race towards my bus stop - yes, so close to home, and warmth!

Except for the fact that as I was rounding the corner, my bus flew by and I had to wait another 20 minutes for the next one to come. By this time I was tired and had salt all over my jeans from the various transfers in the snow.

Anyway, my ambitious plans of flying in, making some dinner, cleaning, and doing laundry turned into a $2 slice of pizza, messing with my cat, and going to bed early. I know, you're jealous, right?

In the end it only took my almost 2.5 hours to get home - that's not bad right.

Oh, and to the princess on the bus - one word for you - taxi.

Things Remembered

So, Christmas always makes me nostalgic. Not necessarily for past Christmases, but for growing up in Indy. Knock Indiana if you like (and many moviemakers/songwriters/TV writers do), but it's truly good times. So in honor of my nostalgia, and of Christmas, here is my Top 10 things I miss from growing up (not necessarily in order).
10) Shooting hoops with my Dad in the evenings - and him waiting 30 minutes until I could make a hook shot.
9) Coming inside the house to the air-conditioning after a long tennis match.
8) Christmas bazaars at my church and the high school with my Mom and Sis when I was younger
7) 4-H County Fair - mmmm....elephant ear with extra butter
6) The smell of the grass right after it was cut
5) Breadsticks and cheese at the Noble Romans with friends
4) Thursday night marching band practice in the fall
3) High school basketball games in the winter
2) Getting up on 5am on Saturdays to go to speech contests (bonus points for Mom getting up with me to clear the ice from the car)
1) Laying in the bench swing as the sun sets on my Grandparents' farm

Walking in a Winter Wonderland

So, yesterday, bright and early, I packed for the day including gym clothes for when my work day was over. I had gone the day before and was determined to overcome my overwhelming hatred of everything gym-like and actually make use of my year membership. I'm not sure what it is about the gym that I dislike so much - I've tried for years to adjust. Maybe it's the mass of people on quasi-torture like machines stuffed in spandex looking like they're in pain or having birth. Maybe it's knowing that I have to wait in line to actually become that person myself. Maybe it's just aesthetically crappy.

Either way, by the end of the day yesterday, I had completely talked myself out of going to the gym. The weather was crappy and I was tired. Yet as I hopped on the #6 bus, the guilt began to gather. I had promised myself that I would really try to keep going, and here I was on Wednesday skipping out. So as soon as I got to my apartment I changed into workout clothes, and spent 1/2 hour doing lunges, situps, medicine ball work, and pushups. Yet, at the end, the guilt was even worse - saturating my comfortable apartment and forcing me into my warmest clothes to go for a run/walk outside in 3 inches of snow. As I grabbed my Ipod, I looked over to my chubby kitty. He was on his back, tummy in the air, licking his favorite green fur toy - oblivious to my need to exercise.

It started, really, as an exercise in futility. Snow and ice everywhere. But stubborness prevailed, and I managed a workout of about 40 minutes - I decided when two cars slid on the ice and collided about 5 feet from me, that I'd had enough.

I also had a minor, if significant, epiphany. A major reason that I detest the gym so much is because of the monotony. You run, but you don't go anywhere. You don't talk to anyone really, but there are people everywhere. Last night, I had good tunes, a beautiful night sky, and great scenery - I enjoy seeing the people out and getting to know my neighborhood. I like running and actually going somewhere. Granted, those preferences will probably play second fiddle when the snow reaches over a foot and the temperature dips into the negatives numbers. Then, off to the gym. Maybe I'll get used to it, or then again, maybe I'll just whine about it until the spring..haha.

Tiny Dancers

The Nutcracker - who's excited? This girl right here.

Went home to Indy for the aforementioned Christmas tradition of seeing Tchaikovsky's The Nutcracker with my dad. I took the Megabus home on Friday (don't knock it 'til you've tried it). Saturday during the day I just goofed around with my mom - hit up Target, checked out a great new dollar store, saw my grandmother - good times. Laid around on the recliner for a good two hours reading a John Grisham book and discovered that I really like his stuff - The Broker is the first one of his that I've read.

Finally, time for the show. My dad and I set out for Butler University where we were seeing the ballet. Luck would have it that there was a Butler basketball game the same night at the Fieldhouse which is about four blocks away from the theater - eek! Yet, I have to give huge props to BU for making the wickedly brilliant decision to not allow anyone without ballet tickets to park in the lots around the performance hall - we got to park close:)

The performance itself was great - wonderful choreography, orchestra was brilliant, and the costumes had been updated a little bit, but looked great! One little angel (she had to be about 4 or 5) unfortunately wiped out at the beginning of the 2nd act, but she popped back up like a champ and kept dancing.

Post-The Nutcracker, we hit up a White Castle (I know, you wish you were classy like me) for hamburgers and mozzarella sticks - tasted so good!

I have to say, the best part is, though, knowing that my dad and I have this great tradition together and that it's is definitely something to look forward to each year.

Favorite Nutcracker memory # 2: The year that the Nutcracker's head popped off after he was supposed to be fixed, the Nutcracker dropped the Sugar Plum Fairy, a snow angel almost popped out of her costume, and at least 3 other dancers wiped out. Note to self - no more opening nights:)