project atlanta.

Today, I am going to go to the doctor. Get my hair done. Lunch with Dor. Get to Midway and Fly to Atlanta and Connect with Frank.

Tomorrow, we are going to watch a ton of TV and movies. We are going to go for some nice long walks and generally enjoy being in the same place at the same time for longer than 6 consecutive, waking hours.

YAY!!!

FK, here I come!!!!!!!!!!!!

updates

FK and I have been quite busy. We sold our house and closed on it on 10/24. We are closing on our new townhouse on 11/17. We are still working through the details of financing and have had a few curve balls thrown, but I think we will be ok.

I was just in Minnesota for 3 days and I am exhausted… I really don’t have much else to say!

The Sacred Train Rule…

Has once again been broken. There are five rules of riding the train:

1) Do not speak loudly (or at all) before 8am.

2) Take any cell phone conversations to the vestibule.

3) Do your best to avoid hitting other passengers in the head with your bag as you walk down the aisle

4) Do not speak loudly about personal problems because then I will want to ask you about them if they are particularly juicy, but I can’t because I’m not really supposed to “hear” what you are saying

5) Do not speak loudly (or at all) before 8am.

Rules #1 and #5 are particularly important and have been mentioned several times in previous blogs. I don’t understand why people have such a hard time with this rule.

This morning, there was a gaggle of teachers taking the train in from DeKalb. Now, I have to say that I’m not sure that they were really teachers per se. They were definitely student teachers, which explains the stories they were telling. One of their friend’s mothers went over to his apartment and cleaned it for 9 hours one day. First of all, what 20-something has their mom over to clean their apartment? And secondly, what MOM DOES THAT?!?! If your kid is a pig, but out of your house, I say, not your problem. Also, these girls were talking about how they like to go drinking at several bars and people they knew. What was particularly upsetting about this was that 1) they prevented me from getting a very important extra hour of sleep that I crave every morning and 2) the stories they were telling were so blah that it wasn’t worth staying awake for. But their voices were so high pitched and whiney, I couldn’t fall asleep. UGH!

So, enough of that. I’m done. Really.

Gotta finish work…

Home again!

Well, we’re back in Chicago, but the weather is at least warm (though wet) and I can’t complain about that! We spent a long weekend in San Francisco, seeing as much as we could with Frank’s parents. They are AWESOME tour guides. It’s as though they have lived there all this time! Dr. K even knew the birthday of Joe The Shoe Shine Guy–how crazy is that??!

San Fran is gorgeous and interesting–modern and vintage at the same time. The cable cars that go up and down the hills are from all over the country–some from Chicago even! Whatever everyone else has cast off as old, they make new and unique again. How fun is that??? And the shops are just interesting and the people watching is fantastic! They have beautiful flower markets and intriguing peace protests and lovely sunny weather. San Francisco is quite the treat!

Here I am, though, back in Chicago. HURRAH! 🙂

We're Home!

We had a fantastic time on Paradise Island–so much fun! The island was beautiful, the accommodations were lovely and the rest and relaxation was much needed. We walked along the beach, built sand castles, laid out in the sun, ate and drank lots (too much, actually) and just enjoyed being together.

The resort we stayed at, Club Med, is a French company. All the signs and announcements were both in French and English. It was great!

I’d write more–but very swamped at work.

More later!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY NICOLE S AND MICHELLE B!

Only 19 hours…

Until FK and I are boarding a plane to sunny Paradise Island! HURRAH!! I’m quite excited–I have been checking out the Club Med website and found that the resort is a series of old historic homes and mansions that were turned into a very cool Club Med village. I can’t wait to be sitting on the beach, enjoying the sunshine and relaxing with Frank!! YAY!

Preparing for our trip, we had a few last minute things to pick up. After work, Frank picked me up and we went to the mall. We wandered aimlessly, picked up a few items, ate dinner in the food court and just enjoyed the people watching.

Which brings me to the 15 yr old with her pants down to her knees wearing a thong. Okay, I exaggerate. She was wearing fashionable low rise jeans. And a white thong. I know this because about 4 inches of her thong were exposed. I guess this is the norm.

But then there was the girl that just cut to the chase and wore her red underwear OVER her jeans. That was pretty cunning.

All of this really just means that we are not going to have kids for at least one more year now. On top of how long we were going to wait anyway. Hrmph!

On another note.

Last night Frank was in desperate search for his beloved sandles. He was searching high and low throughout the entire apartment, absolutely focused on finding the old brown birks. Well, after some time, I hear him grumble, “Well, this is what stinks about being married.” My ears perked up.

“Excuse me?” I asked. “What did you just say about being married?”

“Well, see,” he said, “When I was single, I could always find stuff because it was right where I left it. Now, who knows where you put it*.”

“Whatever,” I said dismissively. Then after about 2 seconds of thought, I added, “Check your car.”

Frank’s car is a notorious final resting place for many things. Tupperware. Clothing. Documents of any variety. Which is why I wasn’t surprised to see Frank come back into the house ten minutes later with his arms full of clothing and, of course, his birks. He sheepishly looked at me, holding out 3 pairs of dockers, a dress shirt and two well-loved birks.

“What do you say, Frank?” I demanded (smiling, of course).

“You were right,” he admitted.

Which is how it always is, isn’t it?

That’s what I thought. 🙂

*Portions of the conversation may have been slightly altered. But you get the idea…

Vacation: DAY 2-3

So, while we toured Florida, visiting all of the finest airports in the region, we discovered a few things about Floridians.

Vrooom!

First of all, they are terrible drivers. The great state of Florida has permitted drivers to jet along their expansive freeways at high speeds of 70 mph. For us Illinoisians, this is like romping in the Garden of Eden. WOOHOO! I thought as I saw the posted speed limit signs.

Turns out that Floridians have earned that limit despite the fact that fewer than 10% of the drivers actually travel at these speeds. Oh, no. These drivers go at about 35 mph. This is terrible! First to not take advantage of your god-given right to cruise along at speeds that other states would envy. Secondly, there are a lot of turns and curves. Many times I rounded a corner and find a car just crawling along. I had to stand on the brakes to avoid a collision!

Moo…

Cows. Florida has a lot of cows. This means that sometimes cows get tipped. We saw one cow sort of floundering around in a field. It was sad–yet quite funny.

Decorating…

Here in Illinois we run across our occasional pink flamingo… but in Florida we came across an 11 ft long cement alligator with neon orange eyes. While that was quite impressive, it wasn’t as cool as the homemade tank in the next yard. CRAZY!

Vacation: DAY 1

Sunday was beautiful in Chicago–nearly 60 degrees. Craig M picked us up and drove us to the airport at 10:45 that morning–despite his wild Saturday night.:-) Arriving at the airport in plenty of time, I decided to take advantage of some yogurt with little M&Ms and hot fudge. Yum! Unfortunately, as is usually the case, my eyes were bigger than my tummy and I wound up passing the rest of the yogurt on to Frank. Such a good fiance.

We boarded the plane and got cozy with our knees tucked under our chins–airplanes, as it turns out, are not made for tall people. Ah, the irony.

Once all the passengers were on board, the captain backed the plane out of the gate and we were off! Whee!

And then we came back.

See, if the hydrolic fluid is leaking in the wing, this means that there could be trouble either taking off or landing. This repair is also a 24 hour repair. We deboarded. Once back in the terminal, we saw a line of over 150 to get rerouted. Fortunately a very friendly young man directed us back to the ticket agents where we came in.

After a little negotiating, we managed to get bulk head seats from Chicago to Atlanta and first class from Atlanta to Tampa. We also got a free meal. Yum. More food!

The rest of our trip to Tampa went fairly smoothly… and then there was the rental car.

BEND OVER–and grab your ankles, please…

Frank was getting the luggage and I decided to run over and get the rental car. I was feeling pretty ferocious after our negotiations with the ticket lady. Once at the counter, however, my ferocity dissipated. The gentleman at the counter helped me assume the “take me for everything I got” position.

“Under 25? hmmm… Do you want our insurance package?” I thought about it. I thought that perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“Sure,” I said.

“Okay, that’ll be $37.99 per day. Great,” he said. He was so smooth that I couldn’t even figure out how to say no. I looked over at Frank who was now sitting on some benches, waiting for me to return with the car keys. He had no idea, the poor boy, what kind of mess I was getting myself into. Like a silent choking victim, I could only plead with my eyes. My plea was SAVE ME FROM MYSELF!! But I think he thought I was making eyes at him so he gave me his best James Dean smile and kind of winked. Crap.

I turned around to look at the car guy, who was now writing my liver and kidneys into the contract, smiled warmly at me.

“Just for you, I have the Ford Explorer,” he said, handing me some keys. I was signing and initialing–but what, I wasn’t sure. I think my firstborn now has to be named Budget.

Frank came up to me, smiling and patting my shoulders. If he only knew…