Lofts, Hot Chocolate, and Sports Bras

This past weekend was my neighborhood’s annual Loft Walk. I live in the Printers Row/South Loop neighborhood of Chicago and the old printing houses have become some magnificent lofts, and once a year, they are shown off. My cousin, Melissa, just moved back to Chicago after a 30+ year hiatus in warm climates, so I invited her on the Loft Walk (all the while really hoping she moves to my ‘hood). There were five of us in our group, Ignacio, his son, my mom, Melissa and me. We saw 15 lofts. They were amazing, and one even brought tears to my eyes. It’s like a nosey Rosie’s dream to be able to walk into peoples’ homes and snoop all around and to see how they’ve rehabbed and decorated. The views in the place on Michigan Avenue were amaze-balls! I told the owner she might have to kick me out at the end of the day because I was never leaving.


While we were on the walk, I kept seeing people in these jackets:

(thank you, Sheree!!)

You see, that morning, there was the annual Hot Chocolate 5K/15K run; a run that ends with hot chocolate and chocolate fondue. Chocolate. Chocolate!! A run that ends in chocolate. A novel idea that just might make me get off my butt and RUN!

I told Melissa that I wanted to run the Hot Chocolate race next year. That is funny for a lot of reasons. The main reason: I can’t even *run* across the street. I have stopped and started the Couch to 5K app on my iPhone more times than I care to admit. But I get these crazy ideas in my mind, and become obsessed. Just because I become obsessed, it doesn’t mean I follow through.

Monday morning, I went to the gym to start (yet again) Week 1 Day 1 of Couch to 5K. I wore my heavy duty sports bra that I finally found in the back of my drawer. I need extra control up top when I ‘run’ (just saying “when I run” makes me giggle). So, heavy duty sports bra (I think I should name her “Madge”) and I hit the treadmill. Madge is one tight bitch! Yeah, Madge keeps me from giving myself a black eye, but she also makes it tough to breathe. I need to weigh my options here: black eye vs. ability to breathe while ‘running’ (I’m giggling again).

I got a cold that evening when I got home from work. I blame running. Madge and I haven’t been back to the gym since. I have a year to prepare to run a 15K. I don’t have high hopes for Madge and I to actually complete 15Ks. I might bronze Madge if I were to even complete 5Ks. I’m already thinking about the possibilities for next year’s Hot Chocolate race: pay the entry fee and just meet everyone at the finish line and indulge in the chocolate fondue, all the while wearing my KICK ASS HOT CHOCOLATE JACKET.

The only good thing is that it’s Friday

I prepared my elixir early this morning. I made two chai tea lattes and put them in the freezer so I could pour them into my sippy cup before I left for work. Wouldn’t you know it, I left my sippy cup on the counter, and now I have no morning elixir.


Ever wear something more than once before you wash it? That’s the name of the game for me. I put a sweater on this morning, and when I got to work, I saw that there is melted chocolate on the sleeve. You know how that happens, don’t you? Yup, you’re eating a dark chocolate bar after dinner, and the little slivers of chocolate sometimes break off into your lap (or sleeve). You try to brush all of the crumbs/slivers off, but sometimes there is a rogue sliver of chocolate, that when it melts, it becomes a huge chocolate mess on the sleeve of your sweater.

And last, but not least, I forgot to put on freaking deodorant before I left the house.

It’s one of those things where as I am leaving the condo and closing the door, I say to myself “Am I forgetting anything?” And I answer, “What could you possibly forget? You’re golden, woman!”

Yeah, I’m so golden that my pits stink, and I dying for some chai tea latte.

Is this heaven? No, it's Little Compton

Is this heaven? No, it’s Little Compton




I have just returned from a fabulous weekend getaway with 7 other women. This is where we stayed:


We rented an oceanfront house in Rhode Island, and had the time of our lives. As you can see, the house is A-mazing. There were six fantastic bedrooms, and we estimated about 7,000 square feet of space. Sitting on the deck was one of my favorite things to do. The sound of the ocean is intoxicating.






Our first night, the eight of us sat around in our pajamas drinking wine and eating. Tracy and I really wanted to play charades, but no one else was really game. We decided to split into two teams, and Tracy and I would do all of the acting, and our respective teams only had to do the guessing. Well, guess what happened? The girls saw how much fun it was, and almost everyone ended up participating.

We also had a little mishap with the fireplace and set the fire alarm off; the owner of the house and to come and rescue us. While he was there, we learned that Richard Gere has stayed in that house. Julie is now able to say that she and Richard Gere have slept in the same bed.


These are the empties from night #1.



We kept a notebook of quotes over the weekend. No, they weren’t inspirational quotes or anything like that. Our notebook was filled with the silly shit that came out of our mouths all weekend long. With a bunch of silly girls, and a lot of wine, I laughed my ass off this weekend.



On Friday, some of us went to the spa, some went to the winery, and some just stayed at home and enjoyed the house. That evening, we had reservations for a fancy restaurant, and Susan gave a beautiful toast that had most of us tearing up.


Saturday, we drove into Newport for sightseeing and a bit of shopping. Saturday night was our night to cook dinner. We were paired up, and each pair was to prepare a course. Poor Aimee got stuck with me for the dessert course. I was great a holding the hair out of her face, but other than that, I was not much help in the kitchen. Actually, I was rocking it in the kitchen. Anytime someone needed something from a high cabinet, I was all over it! They would have been lost in the kitchen without me.



Our table was beautifully decorated with the empty wine bottles from our previous evenings.




After dinner, we went upstairs to the deck and had a champagne toast by the fire.



Sunday morning, a few of the girls had to wake up REALLY early to get to the airport. The rest of us had a leisurely morning, and were very sad to leave our house.

It doesn’t get much better than this. I can definitely say it was a trip of a lifetime.

Monday, Monday

It’s only 9am, and I feel like I’ve been through the ringer. I woke up a little bit late this morning, so that meant only a 20 minute workout. Well, that’s fine, it’s better than nothing, right? I go to the bathroom, flush, and out comes all kinds of water. I kind of stand there in amazement: Wow, I’ve never seen water this deep outside of the bathtub before. By this time, my feet are wet, and I grab the plunger and get to work. The toilet flushes successfully, but the damage is already done. There’s a lot of water on the bathroom floor. I go to the closet to grab the rags and realize, shit, all that purging of stuff I didn’t need meant I threw away a lot of old towels and rags. Grrrrrr. I do the best with what I can find, and all the while yelling at the dog that now is not the time and place to play tug-o-war with these wet pee-pee towels. I call Ignacio at work and ask him if he took a hell of a dump this morning, and I can almost see him pumping out his chest, “Yes! Yes, I did.” Well, that explains why the toilet didn’t flush.


I just want to shower so I can wash my wet feet and get some shoes on before I clean the rest of the mess. Now I’m thinking I can stop at Target before work because I’m running early, and I’m feeling a little under the weather, and I really need some Emergen-C.

I finish getting ready, throw all the wet towels in the tub (I’ll go down to the laundry room after work to wash them all), I send out Ruby the Roomba to vacuum while I am doing my thing. Yes! The house is shaping up (other than a pile of soaking wet pee pee towels in the bathtub).

I am ready to leave; I just need to make my chai green tea with honey into my travel mug before I go. I really need a big one this morning because of how ‘crappy’ the morning has been. Ahhh shit, there is only ONE of my very favorite K-cups of chai green tea left. Ok well, this one is going to make feel warm and cozy once I get to work.

My purse is ready; I put my travel mug filled with my morning elixir into my ‘other’ bag. (The ‘other’ bag contains a couple of journals, mail to sort through, knitting projects, books, etc. Yes, the thing weighs a ton). I make it to the hallway and am ready to turn the doorknob, and I feel that my foot is wet again. The feeling of wet feet is so familiar from the bathroom incident. I swear my brain is working in slow motion today. I look down, and SON OF A BITCH! My travel mug was turned to “open” and my precious morning elixir has spilled all over my finish knitting projects, my mail, my books, my moleskin journal, my to-do journal, my Christmas gift and New Years resolution journal. Seriously? What does all of this spilt shit mean?

I don’t even have the money to buy a coke from the machine today to make up for my morning elixir. I’ve already stolen $1 out of the F-box for my weekly lottery ticket purchase. (Ignacio and I have started an F-box. We are trying to stop saying the “F” word, and whoever says it has to put a dollar in the F-box).

I’ve made it to work and have no morning elixir and I feel like crap. I wasn’t able to purchase the Emergen-C. I just looked in my drawers and found a bottle of DayQuil. There’s a fourth of a bottle left. Maybe if I take the whole bottle, I can just pass out for awhile and forget this morning ever happened. But then again, it’s freaking DayQuil, not NightQuil.

September Girls' Dinner

I chose Piccolo Sogno for our September dinner. It was chosen based on its fabulous outdoor patio. I made the reservation way in advance to ensure our seating on the patio. Unfortunately, there were a bunch of last minute cancellations, and we were seated inside. I’m sure some of the girls were relieved because it was a bit chilly that evening, but the patio was still packed, and I’m sure the heaters made the patio feel downright cozy.

Susan and Aimee

me and Heather

Susan and I ordered the halibut, and it was delicious. Aimee had the Cornish hen, and Heather had the ahi seared tuna.  Here is a photo of my dessert:

Uh huh, it happened again. The pull of chocolate is so strong, and I can’t wait to dig in, that I totally neglect to take a picture of it. As you can see, that shit was A-mazing.

This shit only happens to me

Every year at work, I get audited by an outside auditor. The audit takes place at our corporate office and because I am offsite, I have to send a lot of documents to the main office. My general manager (we’ll call him Bert) brings all the documents to the main office for my accounting boss (we’ll call him Ernie) to handle and give to the auditors.


There was a big box of documents that needed to be at the main office so the audit could get underway. Bert was going to the main office to deliver the large box, as well as some other envelopes for other peoples at the main office. Because the box was large, Bert put the additional envelopes inside the audit box so it would be easier to carry. When Bert gave the box to Ernie, Bert informed Ernie that there were other envelopes in the box. Ernie was either was too busy or forgot to take the envelopes out. Ernie delivered the entire box to the auditors.

Ernie also runs our office football pool. Since I am offsite, I pay Ernie for the entire season up front. Being the jokester I am I always try to be clever with my football pools; even with sending the money. So, on the envelope that contained the football pool money, I so cleverly wrote: HUSH MONEY.

Let me remind you about the point in the story where I said Ernie forgot to take the envelopes out of the box! The auditors got EVERYTHING in the box, including an envelope labeled HUSH MONEY.

Bert got a call from the auditors saying their big guy needed to talk to him. Ernie and I were shitting our pants. I was so hoping that this story would end up in a hilarious blog entry rather than the unemployment line.

So, this is a hilarious blog entry, right?

I swear this shit only happens to me.

Augusts' Girls Dinner

We headed to the river for Augusts’ dinner. Jodee chose Bridge House Pub for our dinner, and it was a beautiful evening with perfect weather and perfect sightseeing right on the river.




The five of us were not very original; there were four orders of halibut, and one order of grilled cheese. The halibut was hit, as was the grilled cheese.


What a great view of the city. Instead of foot traffic, there is all kinds of boat traffic: kayaks, tour boats, leisure boats, you name it!