Last Chance

Haven't I been telling them for years? Come to Chicago! We've got a world class city here folks. People travel here from all around the world to see the grandeur, the art and architecture, the famous streets and stores, the lake that looks like the ocean, such that the city has actual sandy beaches right here in the middle of the country. But no, twenty-two years and I could count the visitors on just my fingers, no toes needed. Well this time, the suggestion was firmer: you are running out of time, because we have soaked up as much mid western love as we can, and we are ready to move on to a new coastal adventure. Not sure the exact date of departure, but sometime before the weather turns colder in 2015. So let's do this town together one more time.

This summer we had two sets of company in quick succession: reunion of high school besties on my side, and reunion of childhood besties/first cousins on his. I was so occupied with being hostess and tour guide and enjoying myself in the bargain, that the photos caught on the run or in a few quiet moments in the hotel room will have to serve as the evidence of what I said: this is a special place with a kind of energy that will either invigorate or suck you dry. Luckily for us, it has inspired and refreshed and now we are ready for a city of more personal dimensions. But that is a story for later.

The images here aren't necessarily in a chronological (or logical order), but represent moments on the fly of playfulness, companionship with company, strangers, and the city itself. It is a place that invites awe: so often you must look up to behold it, but also, it invites participation.

We see ourselves reflected in an iconic sculpture.

Sometimes we are lost in the image.

Sometimes the image seems illusive to capture.

The view in summer is complicated with foliage and people. Winter, though difficult on some levels, is the ideal time for broad expanses.

Unless you stand on a bridge high above the fray.

Short among the tall, but I can aspire to their heights.

From the river, a juxtaposition of old and new. The best way to view the history of architecture and commerce: a river tour.

Trump's tower was just as easy to spot without the monster sized letters. It was far more pure and beautiful a design without.

But this water garden in a plaza at its base is peaceful and low key, and  invites even those of us without the "bucks" to pause and reflect.

A typical architectural tour boat ready for a spin.

I can never get enough of Marina Towers, either day or night views.

Too busy enjoying my company and my food experience, this shot of a typical food station at "'Eataly" is the only one to survive the day.

Back at "Cloudgate," aka "The Bean," I take delight in images and the joy of other visitors as we each dance the same dance with reflection, distortion, and imagining.

For just a moment I feel so connected to the joy of art, the crowds, and the city.

The "Crown Fountain" by Jaume Plensa bears the images of hundreds of real Chicagoans on its two 50 foot towers with cascading water and a shallow wading pool that draws children and delight.

About every five minutes the face of the moment becomes a gargoyle as it "spits" water from its mouth onto the waiting crowd of little ones.

The Art Institute is a favorite stop and this summer we twice attended the amazing exhibition of works by Surrealist, Rene Magritte. But almost as surprisingly arresting was the free exhibit of sculpture and mixed media painting by local artist, Hebru Brantley, called "Parade Day Rain." It will be on display at the Cultural Center through September 23, if you plan to be in town.

A view of an apartment balcony along Wabash with the resident in residence brought out my longings for the soon to be relocation to city life.

In recent years we always stay at the Hotel Monaco with the pillowed window seat views of Wabash and Wacker, the Chicago River, Marina City, Trump Tower, the el train, and my favorite city clock with a winged father time, and his lantern.

The Water Taxi, an efficient way to travel in this city that seems to have enough roadway taxis to accommodate every person who desires one.

A magic hour.

Inside the room, a mellow vibe and a goldfish. Unfortunately, this one did not survive the night. Just like in the stories where parents don't wish to traumatize their children with the reality of dead pets, my "fixer" had the floater replaced while I showered unaware of the switch.

The elevated train performs its wheel squealing turn around this bend all day and (seemingly) all night.

The girl in her window seat, the man relaxing with his Internet browser and some mellow music from "Austin City Limits" on the tube. Perfect down time after a frenetic day.

Darkness descends on a beautiful summer evening.

In this bowl there is no real day or night.

But out here the magic begins. Standing at the base of the towers across from the famous "House of Blues," we prepare for a bit of ten pin fun.

A favorite restaurant, but not this evening.

A hotel that can't settle on a name or an owner, although seemingly it has kept the same identity through recent changes. The cool and modern lobby of what was for a time the Hotel Sax.

And just next door our destination, an upscale bowling alley with music, food and alcoholic libation, a party for rent (along with the shoes.)

And so ends the day, watching the pleasure boats, and floating parties as they pass below on the river.

Surveying the dramatic skyline and taking in the energy of this beautiful night.

Magic!

The company has gone and we are on our own, taking a breather at a local historical park. 

A profile I love and that brings me peace of mind.

This is a popular place for weddings, but today we are alone enjoying the mature plantings in and around the gazebo and gardens.

Pretty soon I will be surrendering my own personal gazebo and garden for the life of sharing public spaces. I am sure there will be some sadness and nostalgia, but I doubt there will be regret. My last summer of "suburbia" is almost under my belt now. Pretty soon we are off to pay a visit to our prospective new home. I look forward to sharing that story with you soon.

Refueling A Hybrid

I was reading an article in last week's paper about introverts and extroverts. Seems that research shows an extrovert is charged up by hoopla: hustle and bustle, sights and sounds, new things, challenges. The introvert finds all this draining, and prefers quiet and control to find strength and focus in her life. The author wrote that research shows if we allow people to find their own approaches to fitting in to the world, either personality type can find success and satisfaction. When I was a child, I was quiet around all but best friends. But because I spent a lot of time preferring the company of adults, and studied their more orderly world, I learned several things about myself that I have carried over time to have success in life: you don't have to be Queen of the prom to be Queen of your own life; it's okay, maybe preferential to be different from the gang; persistence pays off; being confident means not being afraid to be alone. I have also come to realize that while people may be generally "intro" or "extro" in their approach to life, I am a fine example of the Hybrid.


Most days and weeks of my life center around a quiet, if busy, home life that allows time each day for artistic pursuits, exercise, reading, and contemplation. And most days this solitude fills me with great satisfaction and the ability to concentrate on the creative life. The part of me that thrives on this is the introvert; the girl who always (and now) hated noise and confusion and needs to be alone to do her best work. But every so often that girl becomes drained of energy and needs a refuel, and when that happens the best way to charge all the batteries is to plug in to the energy of the city: to let loose the extrovert side, see and be seen, revel in big, bigger and biggest.


My guy had not taken a vacation day off in over five months, and with plenty to spare we decided to make the occasion of a concert the excuse to enjoy spring in a more invigorating environment. As regular readers know, my city of choice is the one lying a mere one hour to North and West, embodying all the art, culture and views  a person could require to inspire a creative burst. This is some of what 26 hours in Chicago bought us. (And by the way, this interlude was just days before the NATO summit, as the city made plans to disrupt the lives of normal folks in favor of showing off the riches to the world. What we experienced on two perfect weather days was an extremely quiet and low key downtown with light traffic and little hassle anywhere.)

Wine flights are the thing at Bin 36, part of the Hotel Sax building, adjacent to the famous House of Blues and Marina City.

L'Chaim! I love an empty restaurant at lunch, knowing this place can be totally booked at other times.

Walking Michigan Avenue on the way to Crate and Barrel, I snapped pictures of floral inspiration for my "Flower Crazy" class.

The concert hall (Chicago Theatre) was literally around the corner from our hotel. It's hard to believe I've been a fan of Steve Winwood since junior high and the man is still making such fine music. The audience on the other hand...don't get me started on spectator manners these days.

As always, an amazing view from our hotel. The "corncobs" of Marina City from the other side of the river this time.

Lying in the window seat trying to capture the lightening lighting up the sky around the Trump Tower. No luck.

First thing next morning, a reminder of my kitty, who is home alone. If he could call us he would. Instead we look in on him with a "nanny-cam".

Instead we request a goldfish to keep us company. As far as I am concerned they are all named Fiona after our first one in Portland. (The Monaco there gives them introductory name tags.)

The rooms are very elegant and make you wish you had more more to just laze in bed, but we must be off to get that recharge!

On the way to Blick's, some colorful sights include spider men...

A "green" service...

A remnant of another era in the clocks at the corners of the  former Marshall Field's store.

As Art Institute members we were able to attend preview days (and pre-crowd days) of an amazing exhibit of the life and works of Roy Lichtenstein. The only thing negative to say about it: we were both a bit headache-y after looking at all those dots for over an hour. Lunch in the courtyard restaurant gave us time to recover our perspective.

Since, unfortunately I wasn't able to take any photos of the exhibit to show you, I can only share the similarly dotted table on which I ate a most excellent lunch of huge shrimp on cheese grits. Yes, that is a biscuit, and no, not an optical illusion. Just the tiniest biscuit in history. Good, because I'm watching my calories. 

We decided to leave the building by way of the bridge from the modern wing to Millennium park, with some of the most wonderful views on the lakefront.

Look quick! You can just see the bus turning the corner covered with an ad for the Lichtenstein exhibit.

If you've never been to Chicago, you might think we were somewhere coastal. But no, that is Lake Michigan.

With the Modern Wing of the Art Institute behind me, I am enjoying a rest in the amazing prairie-like Lurie Gardens.

Under the "dome" of the Millennium Park band shell (designed by Frank Gehry), another view of my wonderful guy wearing my art.

And so ended a short but tasty tour of some of our favorite spots along the refueling trail. Enough to satisfy for a little while at least. But with all the painting and stitching I've been doing lately, I'm bound to run low soon. At least I know where they keep the juice.