Real Housedogs of Suburbia

A long walk to North Avenue Beach tonight, amongst the shimmering lights of Chitown, reminded me once again how happy I am to be home in my city.

Recently, Iwanski and I spent some time in the Southwest suburbs. We were full-fledged suburbanites. We drove everywhere and spent lots of time hanging out in the backyard, watching two big puppies duke it out on a daily basis in their playful puppy way that sometimes seemed a bit violent to me. Just for the record, we were housesitting and dogsitting at my sister-in-law’s house whilst she and her family whiled away the hours in southern Califor-ni-ay.

And it wasn’t so bad. For one thing, there was a pool in the yard. And it was like 80 degrees and sunny pretty much every day. And there were forest preserves close at hand – well, at least close at car. We enjoyed many a hike in the forest and prairie, and even got lucky enough to see a coyote, three garter snakes, and a pair of fluttering bluebirds.

But Lordy, oh Lordy did I miss my city. And I missed my cats. Yes, I missed the little pukesters – no, I did not miss their twice-weekly bouts of vomiting, but I did miss them and their quiet, unassuming ways.

For I realized once again just how different cats are than dogs – and just how much easier it is to take care of cats than dogs.

While we were on suburban dogwatch, it became a daily ritual to be awoken at 7 AM by pacing, collarbell ringing wide-awake big-ass puppies. Here’s a fun fact for your doggy facts repertoire: an English Setter and a Labradoodle are definitely NOT your garden-variety little yippy dogs. They are freakin’ huge.

Anyway, once the 7 AM pacing and collarbell ringing took place – one time, accompanied by a huge-ass Labradoodle jumping up on the bed next to the snoozing Iwanski – either I or Iwanski would drag our sleepy butts down the stairs to let the puppies out in the yard for their morning constitutional. If I were lucky enough to be on morning puppy pee pee duty that day, then my stumble down the stairs also consisted of having a Labradoodle’s nose nuzzled against my butt, trying to sniff me in a most unpleasant way, while I shoo’ed her away. Nothing like having a puppy’s nose shoved up your ass first thing in the morning! I cringe just thinking about it.

And then of course there was the morning that I was having quite a lovely sleep-in, with Iwanski on morning puppy patrol, when I heard Iwanski yelling “No, Ginger! No!” downstairs…and came down the stairs to find out that Ginger (the big ole’ Labradoodle puppy once again – poor pup) had chewed through a bottle of Pepcid that she had stolen off the kitchen counter. Luckily, she had not actually eaten any of the pills – but she had definitely chewed through the bottle.

And maybe it’s just me, but puppies sure do play rough. I don’t know if I could ever really get used to the biting, clawing, pinning down, and mounting behaviors that happen during puppy play.

I can’t imagine our cats ever sniffing our butts, or eating a medicine bottle, or violently playing—well, okay, the cats are a little violent when they play, but they are much smaller and definitely quieter.

Clearly, dogs are more of a challenge to deal with than cats.

But the dogs weren’t the only challenge for my “urban elitist” self. Although Iwanski and I tried to keep as active as possible during our suburban housewatch, we pretty much had to drive every where that we went. Relaxing? You betcha. Healthy? Not so much.

So when we took the el train back to downtown after our suburban stint, and we arrived home to find our tiny quiet housecats giving us a little “meow” and weaving a little tail-rub around our legs, I just took a deep breath and felt so very grateful to be home.

And when we walked 8 miles in the city the next day, and 7 miles the day after that, and we spent a lovely Friday night on a 50th floor Marina City balcony with our good friend Jonathan and his fun Texan cousin, I felt even more grateful.

And tonight, as we gazed at the twinkling lights of the city from the shores of shimmering Lake Michigan, I don’t think I’ve ever felt more grateful to live here.

I am home. And I love my city.

Baby, It's HOT Outside!

OK, I love hot weather. I really do. But it is like, OVEN hot out there. Perhaps Iwanski said it best on his Facebook status when he said that it’s “Kirstie-Alley-butt-crack hot out there.” That made me laugh!

But seriously, folks, it has been one hot summer. Last summer, it seemed like we hardly ever hit 80 degrees…but this year it’s been in the 90’s+ for several days.

I know it sounds like I’m complaining—and yes, I guess I am.

Just do me a favor and don’t remind me about this when I’m bitching about the icy 10-degree days in February. Please.

An Explosive Evening

Have I mentioned that I love living in this city?

Last night, Iwanski and I were walking near Millennium Park, when we heard something that sounded like a big explosion.

“What the heck was that?” I said.

“It sounds like fireworks,” replied Iwanski. “I wonder if there are fireworks somewhere downtown tonight?”

We walked on, talking about our days, as the barrage of explosions (which sounded like bombshells) continued.

Suddenly, Iwanski stopped walking and turned to me.

“Isn’t it funny?—we’re so used to hearing strange sounds in the city, that we don’t even question them. There could be a terrorist attack and we wouldn’t even know it.”

“I know,” I laughed. “It’s crazy. But anyway, like I was saying…”

We walked along, talking about mundane things, as the explosions continued to get louder.

“It has to be fireworks,” said Iwanski. “I’ll bet they’re doing fireworks over the river tonight.”

“Yeah, let’s go check it out,” I replied.

We meandered over to the river and immediately saw the spectacular fireworks display that was going on right over the river, just a mere block from our apartment building. It was amazing-looking…and amazingly loud!

I covered my ears slightly and turned to Iwanski.

“Why is it so loud?” I yelled.

“It’s echoing off the buildings,” he replied, setting his camera into place on the concrete ledge above the riverwalk and starting to take some pictures. “And I think it’s part of the movie that they’re filming across the street.”

I looked across the street and saw a humongous light suspended from the top of a crane, pointed near where the fireworks were going off.

“Yeah, I think you might be right,” I said, leaning on the concrete ledge and watching the show.

For the next fifteen minutes, we were treated to a nonstop beautiful, spectacular, booming fireworks display. It was freakin’ awesome!

As we stood there, enjoying the show, people began to gather around us, snapping pictures and just enjoying the beautiful night and the amazing display. I also noticed people gathering on the other bridges up and down the river. There was just no way that a passerby could resist stopping and checking out the show. It was just so cool.

I also noticed the huge clouds of smoke floating up and between the nearby skyscrapers. To me, it looked like the smoke from a gigantic fire had enveloped the city. It was definitely an amazing sight.

Finally, the show ended, and immediately a huge applause and a chorus of “Whooooooo!”s rose up from the crowd of spectators. I joined in with my own “Whooooo!,” smiling from ear to ear.

It was just such a great impromptu city moment, and I am so glad that I got to be a part of it.



Photo credit: John Iwanski

A Magical Place

The minute we thought that we had seen just about everything there was to see in Chicago, Iwanski and I discovered something new.

Twice now, we have visited my new favorite place in Chicago: The Montrose Point Bird Sanctuary, on the city’s north side. I love love love this place! It’s a large, beautiful forested area with many trees and tall grasses, and a variety of unique birds and other woodland animals.

When Iwanski and I first found out about the bird sanctuary a couple of weeks ago, we were astounded to find that it was so big, and so secluded-feeling. The numerous walking trails weave through fifteen acres of beautiful forest and prairie grasses—I’m quite sure you could get lost there (or at least I could, since I was seemingly born with no sense of direction), if it weren’t for the lake that comes into view every now and then. I’m telling you, I thank God for Lake Michigan. It has helped me find my way many times in this city. (And actually, the stretch of the Lake Michigan beach near the walking trails is a part of the bird sanctuary, as well.)

Anyway, my very favorite part of the bird sanctuary is an area called “The Magic Hedge,” a 150-yard stretch of shrubs and trees that is called “magic” because it attracts an amazingly high number of migratory birds. And believe me, we’ve seen the magic at work. Just in the two weeks we’ve been there, we’ve seen at least twelve different types of birds, as well as several other forest creatures.

Today, as we arrived at the Magic Hedge, we almost immediately saw some unique yellow birds, a black bird with yellow and orange/red on it (which I later found out was called a “red start”), a pair of frolicking chipmunks, and two fat rabbits. As we continued through the Magic Hedge, trying to be quiet so as not to scare off any birds, I whispered to Iwanski, “I feel like I’m in the movie Snow White.” Seriously, it just really seemed magical to me.

So without further adieu, I would like to share some pictures that Iwanski took within our past two visits to the sanctuary. I already can’t wait until we can get back to this magical place again!

Caspian Tern (winters in Central America and summers in Canada)


Wilson's Warbler (winters in Central America and summers in Canada and the Northwestern U.S.)


Grey Catbird (winters in Central America and the eastern U.S. coast, summers all over the U.S. except for the West Coast)


Downy Woodpecker (lives year-round all over the U.S. and Canada)


Magnolia Warbler (winters in Central America and summers in Canada)


Red Start* (winters in Central and South America, summers in the eastern half of the U.S., and in Canada)
*Note: Iwanski did not take this picture—but this is the bird we kept seeing today, that wouldn’t sit still for a picture. Photo is courtesy of mayo.personcounty.net.

Cute-ass chipmunk (not the technical name…lives all over the U.S., all year round)

I Need To Get Out There!

It’s Friday afternoon, I’m on my lunch break, and my coworkers look like they’re about to spring out of their chairs and run straight for the door. Why? Because it’s April 30th today, and it’s sunny and 83 freakin’ degrees outside! Hell, I’m about to spring out of my chair and run straight for the door!

I told one of my coworkers that our company should have at least five mandatory “warm spring days off”—so that when the weather is sunny and reaches over 75 degrees, we can all run for the hills (or to the suburbs, in some cases—or to one of Chicago’s city parks, in my case) and enjoy a lovely spring day off.

Have I mentioned that I love this weather?

Sigh…springtime in Chi-town. Life is good.

Looptopia!

God, I love living in this city!

Last night was the 2nd annual “Looptopia,” an all-night festival of art and music in Chicago’s loop (downtown) neighborhood. (And I mean all night—there were things going on from 5 PM Friday till 7 AM on Saturday.) Last year, John and I were in Wisconsin visiting my parents during Looptopia, so this year, we were excited to check it out.

We wandered out of the house around 8 PM and headed over to State Street. We had heard that up and down State, there were supposed to be performance artists in an overall exhibition called “Ghost Light.” We had no idea what we were in for. On each downtown block of State Street (on both sides of the street), there were single performers on raised platforms, all dressed in white. They were all different and all very weird (weird in a good way!). For example, one of them was a woman in a long white dress with a veil, picking petals from a flower and looking down at a writhing pile of white doll babies, lying on their sides with their arms and legs moving. Off to the side, there was a huge mesh bag full of more white dolls, which were not moving. Trust me, it was very creepy-looking. I heard someone say, “I think this is something about abortion.” I thought that was probably as good a guess as any.

Then there was the tortured artist guy, who had drawn ominous-looking self portraits and was trying to poke a hole through one of them with a metal pick. And the female karate master, who did a series of bows and slow kicks and then used a pair of chopsticks to slowly pick up a gummy bear from atop a huge bowl of gummy bears and move it over to a canister on the other side of the platform.

The best part of the exhibit was probably hearing people’s reactions as they went past them. “I don’t get it,” was one of the most common utterances. There’s nothing to get, people! It’s art! It means whatever you want it to mean.

We walked for a good hour through this exhibit, and then walked over to Dearborn Street. Around every corner it seems that there something else interesting to see. We saw two women stacking up eggs on the sidewalk, a wandering band of hippies singing some tunes, and a giant multicolored lit-up piece of hard candy.

Then we got to the hoedown. Yes, there was a hoedown in downtown Chicago! Right in Daley Plaza, there was a live country/bluegrass band complete with a guitar, banjo, and fiddle player—and a square dance caller. We got there at the end of the square dance lesson, and then watched as hundreds of people—young and old—square danced next to the Picasso. They were pretty good, too!

Then the band played a waltz, and John and I joined hundreds of other people waltzing in the square. You could almost touch the positive energy in the air. It was just beautiful.

Then it was time for the Virginia Reel, a type of line dance. John, who doesn’t always like to join in line dances, decided it was time to join. The guys were told to line up on one side, the girls on the other. There were about 6 couples to each line, and somehow John and I became the head couple. The instructions seemed easy until it got to the linking of elbows. Somehow, John and I got completely lost on what we were supposed to be doing at that point—and our fellow Virginia Reelers didn’t help much, either. Some of them were yelling “We’re supposed to join the other line!” while others yelled out, “No—it’s right elbows, then left elbows!” It was all very confusing. John did the right thing and left the line. “’Bye!” he yelled, and I followed him, laughing. I was glad to be away from all that. We instead did our own little dance from the sidelines. We had fun, either way.

After that, it was a free-for-all dance, and the band played a rousing Irish tune and then three bluegrass songs. The band was fantastic, and John and I were in seventh heaven, dancing and singing among hundreds of others who were having the time of their lives.

At a hoedown, right here in downtown Chicago.

I know that there were several other events happening throughout the night, but for us, nothing would top this.

After that, John and I walked around for a while longer and joined the throngs of people wandering the streets, taking in all the amazing artistic and musical exhibits. There was a feeling of happiness and energy in the air. The city was just so alive.

Eventually, we went home and opened our window a crack as we watched a bit of t.v. I fell asleep on the couch, and at two in the morning was awakened to the sound of music and people yelling and “woo”ing. Yep, the festival was still going—all night long.

At 5 in the morning, there was supposed to be a huge game of hide-and-go-seek happening in Millennium Park. I wish I could have stayed awake to see that.

About 9 years ago, John and I decided to leave Wisconsin to come live here in downtown Chicago. I have never regretted that decision. And I’ve never been happier to live here than I was last night.