Although we’re not even halfway into this sunny, not too hot (yet!) day, I’ve got plenty of sunshine to share with all of you.

It’s a lovely day in the Second City.

So I’m going to get to why that is:

1. Last night, JW and I had dinner at Quartino, which is one of my favorite places to eat downtown.

Italian small plates.

How could it get any better?

2. Here’s how:

Post dinner, we headed over to see our favorite teens, our godson, and their parents.

Pretty much my favorite line-up of all time.

There were stories about baseball, crawling demonstrations, and delightful, summery drinks.

I love those kiddos so much I could squeeze them.

Do squeeze them, actually.

3. This morning, I went back to kettlebells for the first time in several weeks.

You could tell by the ridiculous amount of huffing and puffing I was doing that it had been awhile.

“Don’t ever lose your weapon!” Gene yelled, looking suspiciously at my precarious grip on the bell, as it slipped out of my sweaty paws.

I’m never missing another week again.

Luckily, post workout I unexpectedly ran into my bffs, JD & CC, and shared bagels, coffee, and a strategy for this weekend’s festivals before moving off in our separate directions.

4. Post leaving my friends and husband, I headed to the Farmers’ Market, where I was treated to the it’s-almost-August bounty of fruit and vegetables.

I have a full fridge of produce and eggs and had a chance to talk to every last one of my favorite farmers. Pretty much an all around success, if you ask me.

5. For the next two weeks, my grandma, baby cousin Jon (who is actually 19), and sister are coming in and out of the Chicago area. Tonight, I finally lay eyes on my grandma and cousin, and also, my parents feed me yet again.

This move to my city is really working out, I think.

Enjoy your day, chickens- it’s a beautiful one!

And happy Monday to you.

I woke up this morning with stiff limbs and bruised legs, all products of a well-spent weekend at the lake.

It turns out that I’m as impatient with waterskiing as I am with everything else.

In an effort to haul myself up several beats too fast, I went flailing over my skis and the result were two large, purple marks across the tops of my legs.

I still loved every second of it.

My legs are still making up their mind.

I spent the weekend floating, wave running, eating, and enjoying the company of my friends.

On the drive home, J & V took JW and I to Jim’s Original, where we stood outside and ate Polish sausages and pork chop sandwiches (yes, of course I ate a pork chop sandwich) in the shadow of the skyline.

It was the perfect way to end the weekend.

That and the hours I spent on the couch, wondering if it was possible that my eyeballs were sunburned.

They probably were.

And now, I’m off to a hot commute into a cool office, a return to the gym (and yes, I need to replace my Y card again), and a goodbye dinner (I know- another one), in honor of my lovely, dear friend Courtney.

It’s a reflection-having sort of day, chickens. Enjoy every second of it.

We’re in Michigan, enjoying the sunshine and the water, readying ourselves for a family wedding.

Not a bad sight to wake up to, right?

Last night, we visited with familiar faces, ate a delicious dinner basically on the lake, headed out for a boat ride, and finished the evening hanging out in my hilarious friend MW’s pool.

As long as the temperature stays below 100 degrees, things are looking pretty good here.

Hot weather on the lake feels a little less stifling than hot weather in the city anyway.

In fact, as JW and I headed out of the city yesterday, we received a call from our neighbor.

To tell us that our deck caught on fire.

And that the firefighters were at our apartment.

Panic ensued for a second as I envisioned my building going up in flames, but once T sent us some pictures of the aftermath, we realized that the damage wasn’t too bad, aside from the fact that we lost a chair in the blaze.

This hot weather is a crazy situation.

I look forward to 75 degrees, whenever that decides to show up.

Hopefully it’s sooner rather than later.

Stay cool today, chickadees.

80% of success is showing, up right?

We met at six, and I mentioned that it looked brighter in the early morning than I remembered from our Summer of Triathlon.

“I’m pretty sure we used to meet at 5:00 AM,” she said.

Oh yeah. That’s right.

“I think something’s wrong with my front brake,” she told me. “I think it’s okay though.”

We just hopped on our bikes anyway.

It was go time.

*****

We took off, headed toward the lake, and I noticed it was taking us awhile to hit the actual street.

As in, we were riding on the sidewalk.

Like children.

Or suburbanites.

We eased onto busy Ashland.

It’s best to get back into these things slowly, chickens.

*****

We hit the Lakeshore path at a slower clip than in our glory days, but all things considered, the ride was going well.

Except for the wind situation.

But aside from nearly being blown over, we were moving right along.

I feel good about this, I thought.

Moments later, we came upon a poor older gentlemen who had hit a runner with his bike and was splayed out on the pavement, unresponsive.

The girl he hit had a big gash on her arm, and a fleet of bikers started to gather at the scene.

We halted our bikes and waited for the firetrucks to get there.

He started to come to on the stretcher, and eventually, CJ and I took off on our bikes.

I will assure you, good readers, that he was wearing a helmet.

I might be getting elbow pads, just as a precaution.

*****

Despite our shake-up with the bike accident, and the fact that  the wind and our lack of practice held us back in the speed department, we completed about 10 miles on our bikes without personal injury.

We’ll be back at it in no time, chickadees.

Enjoy that sunshine!

Last night after two hard-earned wins in soccer playoffs (no, not the European Football Championship kind), we headed out to the suburbs to eat grilled foods and celebrate Fathers’ Day.

Before dinner, we were sitting out on the patio, and the subject of cartwheels came up.

I thought I could do one.

It turns out that I can’t.

However, after some practice and coaching by my weird little brother (I feel like you’re only giving 80%, he noted) I finally had it down.

Then I tried again and fell to the ground.

I was never gonna be a gymnast, chickens.

Post cartwheeling around the yard, my brother’s next instruction was for me spin around 30 times.

I decided to show off my amazing sense of balance by doing it.

Big mistake.

After spinning around for what felt like hours, I took off lumbering in the direction of the garage, but promptly ran straight into my father’s garden fence.

I hit the dirt, chickadeees.

Then I laughed until I cried.

*****

Up this morning, I started my day with a summer-y breakfast to remind myself that despite the 8 hours in my cubicle, we’re still in the best part of the year around here.

I know avocados aren’t local to the Midwest, but I can’t live without them, so I just chalk it up to doing the best I can.

Tonight: hopefully my doctor tells me my eyes have lost their spots, I pose it out with some yoga, and the rain holds off until I’m safely tucked into my apartment.

Let’s get this week started.

Which means the hard part is over, everyone.

Up this weekend:

absolutely.nothing.

That’s not to say I don’t have 8000 ideas of things to check off my list swimming in my brain (get some sun, plant some herbs, clean this house within an inch of its life, cook something crazy), but none of it’s down on paper and that, my friends, is the trick to all of this.

At least I think it is. Ask me Monday if it turned out to be chaos.

Last night, I continued my series of home work outs by doing the Shred for the second time in one week.

I even made it to level 3.

But it wasn’t pretty, you can bet on that.

Between that and the yoga I’ve been working on this week, my shoulders have surrendered, and my push ups look more like me flopping to the ground and then slowly picking myself back up again.

For 3 straight minutes.

I can’t wait until I get my contacts back into my eyes: running will be the first thing on the schedule. My shoulders can relax all they want.

And now, I’m off to make my last trek to work this week. It’s all smooth riding from here, chickadees, at least for the next 72 hours or so.

I worked on projects in the dark with the blinds closed.

It still seemed too bright.

Then, after eight hours of straining, I decided that it was time to stretch myself into some serious yoga.

Yoga can be done in your living room without the use of your eyes, chickadees.

Or at least something that’s a semblance of yoga.

I felt one million times more centered once I was finished, and then I trotted off to the eye doctor.

Where I was told to take some steroid drops and lay off the contacts for another week.

This means less running, more yoga, since jogging without seeing really seems to be more trouble than it’s worth. 

I’ll be warrior posing until future notice over here.

Also today- I got up to head to the kitchen after a particularly long spell of sitting, and I didn’t realize my legs had fallen asleep.

Immediately my legs went out from under me, and I bit it on the hardwood floor.

Maybe it’s better I worked in isolation today.

Tomorrow I try to make it back to civilization, chickens.

Wish me luck in the big, bad city.

Perhaps because I didn’t want to confess that after a long day of work and dinner with JW, I watched Smash until midnight.

But then, I’ve just let it spill.

I never was very good with a secret.

To counter this bit of lazy behavior, my plans tonight include a yoga session with Ky.

We haven’t done yoga in almost a month, which means that I’m 100% sure I’ll fall on my ass the second I try to stretch into Warrior 2.

Especially since my limbs are still a little stiff from Saturday’s bells class.

Yes, it takes that long to bounce back.

Swinging bells is hard work, my friends.

More terrifying and also in my future is the prospect of running more than 2 miles, which is my goal for tomorrow morning.

It’s time to see if those legs are still in working order.

Also, running that half marathon is starting to seem like a distant dream.

What half marathon? my body’s saying.

I know, energy drinks and pizza shocked my system into amnesia.

I’m hoping I can pull myself out of the slump without collapsing on Belmont.

You’ll know if I hit the pavement in a heap of tired muscles and sweat though, chickens.

Like I said, secrets and self-preservation were never something I took much stock in.

Enjoy the sunshine out there, pals!

Actually, let’s back it up.

My hot water is working.

My meeting was a success.

Hallelujah. 

Now, onto the good stuff.

ACT I: The Warehouse

My friend CJ and I are throwing a going away party for JK and her husband, since she’s decided to abandon us for Seattle (I mean, that’s not really how it’s going down but in my head it is), and after work we ventured over to Costco to pick up some supplies.

“I can’t wait to see you drive,” CJ said.

If we’d only known.

We got to Costco in one piece, since navigating Damen Avenue is something that even I can handle, and proceeded to fuel ourselves with Scrubway sandwiches before stepping foot into the warehouse.

Then things got a little hazy.

One giant, too.heavy.to.push.effectively cart later, we headed for the checkout lane.

CJ asked what she should do with the cart.

I smugly pointed to the side of the aisle labeled “cart.”

We assessed the damage and tried to decide if we had everything we needed.

Then I heard the cashier calling to us “Is your cart pre-rung up?”

I looked at CJ. “Answer him- No!” I demanded.

She told him it wasn’t pre-rung up.

He looked at us if we were crazy.

“Then you have to take everything out of the cart and put it on the belt,” he said.

CJ glared in my direction.

I handed him my Costco card.

He checked it twice for authenticity.

CJ didn’t stop glaring at me until we hit the parking lot.
ACT II: The Parking Lot

We struggled to wheel our gigantic, alcohol and snack-filled cart to the Matrix.

I pushed the automatic car door lock.

Nothing happened.

“It must be broken,” I mumbled to myself.

“Try the key,” CJ suggested from behind the giant cart.

I put the key in the lock, opened the door, and then proceeded to turn the car on.

Except that it wouldn’t.

I stared at CJ, dumbstruck.

For about 30 seconds.

“Did you leave your lights on?” she asked.

I shrugged.

“Your lights were on!” a guy shouted at me from behind his perfectly operating vehicle, and then drove off.

I continued to stare at CJ.

“Your battery’s dead,” she said.

The glare was back.

*****

Since I am obviously helpless in any situation which involves a car (or really asking for assistance in general), CJ gave me one more hard look and then walked off in search of assistance.

I loaded the groceries into the back seat.

Then I noticed some jumper cables in the back.

I climbed into the way back of the car, falling over the seat on my way.

I caught one woman laughing in my face.

I didn’t even care.

*****

CJ came back from her jaunt only to inform me that she hadn’t been able to find assistance. I had called my pal JD for help, but alas, she was 20 minutes away.

We noticed a man wearing an OU shirt (CJ’s alma mater), and I suggested (because of the aforementioned helplessness) that she go ask him if he could give us a jump.

She got him to agree with her Midwestern charm, and the next thing I knew, our cars were nose to nose.

This is not the time to be taking pictures, she hissed at me.

So I took another.

She’s obviously not amused.

A few minutes later, the guy’s girlfriend came out of the Costco toting a big screen television and wearing a puzzled expression. We explained our predicament and she said she was happy to help out an OU alum.

I have a newfound respect for the good people of Ohio.

After our car was up and running, we noticed the couple struggling to get their television into the back of their car.

“We should offer to take it in our car,” CJ said.

I hesitated.

I’m not the good people of Ohio.

She was right though, and so we offered to stow their television in the car and drive it to Logan Square.

Which I did, nearly killing us in the process, due to my lack of rear view mirror perspective.

“Don’t look back- just look ahead!” CJ said.

“I can’t believe they’re just letting us drive around their brand new TV!” I protested.

“They’re from Ohio- they’re a trusting people,” I was told by my Midwestern friend.

Lots of lessons learned tonight, chickens.

In the end though, we made it home, in one piece, with a car that worked and a sense of paying it forward.

I’m hoping this evening’s a little quieter though, my friends.

It’s not always a glamorous experience, chickens.

Last night, for instance, all the trains headed in the direction of my apartment were suspended because a furniture store caught on fire.

Say a prayer for those burning sectionals.

I was lucky enough to snag a ride with CJ’s hilarious and kind sister KJ, who took us on a slightly stressful, is.the.world.maybe.ending, hour-long ride through downtown.

This is a twenty minute drive on a normal day, my friends.

In addition, we managed to get turned around because the whole city of Chicago was panicking, and basically ended up driving into the fire itself.

CJ tried to get some air and came up with a mouthful of smoke.

After that, we resigned ourselves to Chipotle.

*****

When I got home, JW was waiting, and let me know we’d be going to the Y in the morning.

I looked at him strangely.

I know I could use a workout, but it’s not like him to mandate fitness in the early hours.

I asked why, and he looked hesitant.

We still have no hot water.

And I have a huge meeting to lead tomorrow.

joke’s on you, I hear someone whispering, somewhere.

*****

That meeting I just referenced?

Until this Monday at approximately 10:00 AM, I believed it to be happening on Thursday.

It turns out I still have tent cards to print tomorrow.

If you know me at all, you know that the prospect of a manual feed project shakes me at my very core.

Say a prayer for me too, chickadees.

I’m not even sure I remember which train to take to get there.

That’s maybe a slight exaggeration.

In any case, when I went to bed last night, I was looking forward to the routine of a regular (albeit blissfully short) work week.

But then it was hard to sleep.

Because it was hot.

And my air conditioner is still on the fritz.

Someone’s coming this morning to fix it, and left me a message last night saying to call him back to confirm because “he doesn’t like surprises.”

I forgot to call back.

I’m not planning any surprises though.

This morning, I woke up to the sound of every garbage truck in Chicago dealing with Memorial Day’s trash.

Nothing like an alarm of clashing metal to really get you going.

I decided to skip the yoga and try to catch a few extra minutes of sleep when JW walked into the room.

He informed me that our hot water isn’t working.

It’s been a long morning, chickadees.

I look fairly frightening, since cold water washing simply doesn’t do it for me.

The amount of dry shampoo in my hair is probably some kind of chemical hazard.

My plan today includes holing up in my air-conditioned cubicle and getting.back.to.it.

And then coming back to a home with hot water and climate control.

Then maybe I can get back to that yoga.

I’m back in action.

I made it home.

I’m barely alive.

However, in a lucky twist of fate, it’s a long weekend, so I plan on recovering and returning in short order to my normal life.

If I can remember where I left it.

Our event was a great success, Boston was awesome, and I slept roughly 20 hours in five days.

There’s nothing like really finding out what your limits are, right?

Mine are, apparently, 4 hours of sleep a night, all the pop music in the land, 12 hours a day on my feet, twice-daily snacks of chips, and several gallons of Red Bull.

I’m off the energy drinks now, chickadees.

After hanging out with my team all week, tweeting like a maniac about the conference, dancing at every opportunity, and ending one particularly good night by eating pizza out of a box in a parking structure (don’t worry, there was a picnic table. It was a very civilized experience), I was more than ready to board a plane and head back to the Windy City.

If I had stayed one more day, it’s possible that I would have needed some kind of rehabilitation.

But I wouldn’t trade that crazy week for any other.

Here’s to two more days of quiet, water, and vegetables.

I’ll let you know how this one shakes out.

We’ve been spending fourteen hours at a stretch together in a convention center, working hard on our feet (my dogs are barking, JK says once every five minutes once it hits 4:00 pm), and laughing/crying at every single thing that happens.

And a lot of things have been happening.

There’s nothing like working a conference, chickens.

Today, after handfuls of jelly beans, tons of diet soda, and only four hours of sleep, I was feeling down.

I’ve been outside once since Sunday.

My only physical activity has been tripping up the escalator while half asleep and playing foosball in my booth.

And then, there was a conference miracle.

Just when I thought all hope was lost.

Someone walked in with several boxes of these:

Mike’s Pastry is  among my favorite places in Boston. They specialize in cannolis, but they also show up with a pretty good assortment of other desserts.

There’s nothing like a serious sugar buzz to get you through those last six hours of the day.

In fact, just yesterday I turned to my buds JK and CJ and noted that I’d probably lose it if we made it through the week without somehow getting in a trip to Mike’s.

I had never been so serious about anything in my life.

When the woman walked in with the boxes, CJ looked at me with concern.

“You look like you’re gonna cry.”

Luckily, they’re tears of joy.

Is it Friday night yet, chickadees?

By the time this is over, I will have spent 10 of 12 days sleeping in four different places, three of which are hotels and none of which are my bed.

I really like my bed.

*****

Last night I was in my office for 14 hours.

I couldn’t even tell you what I did.

I can tell you that it went by really fast.

I’m not sure what that says about me.

*****

Upon reflection this morning, I noticed something.

My suitcase is embarrassingly large.

I need every single thing in it.

But I mean, probably not.

Also, I probably forgot something.

I hope it’s not pants.

*****

I haven’t run in a week, and I most certainly did not get to yoga last night.

I’m feeling pretty sluggish without my usually level of activity.

I packed my sneakers.

They don’t stand a chance.

*****

Yesterday, in my office, my attitude got to be a little, um, unbalanced a couple times.

I may have been feeling a little crazy.

See above for reference to the long day.

Also, my shoes hurt.

And I was hungry.

CJ & JK sent me an e-mail with the subject line “Rageful Nikki Days.”

This is how they see me.

Thank God I work with my besties.

They always tell me when I’ve crossed the line and turned into a crazy, toothy fish head of a coworker.

I’m hoping I can cure this with cheesesteaks and a wedding celebration before heading to Boston.

See you chickens on the East Coast!

So, hello.

I’ve been off in the deep suburbs, learning about leadership and discussing books and hanging out with all my new friends and drinking by fire pits.

All awesome things.

Also, last night, we painted. An art student came and showed 30 of us how to paint something that doesn’t look terrible.

The drinks we were enjoying helped with the experience.

But really, I was impressed with my classmates’ ability to get outside of their comfort zones and enjoy something we’d normally be terrified of doing.

Myself included, since I believe you know how I hate a craft.

In the end, this is how it went:

Not too shabby, right?

I almost liked the process of painting.

You learn something new every day chickadees.

That’s the theme of this week, as I pause for dinner with my parents (thanks for feeding me again, Mom & Dad), catching up on e-mail, and heading back into the city to grab some sleep before getting to Phase II of the crazy week.

Phase II equals serious bunker time in my cubicle.

Phase III is LZ’s wedding, and that seems like decidedly more fun.

Here’s hoping it comes fast and furious!

It started with kettlebell class bright and early.

Gene was even more energetic than usual, and we spent the class watching him instruct moves and play air guitar at the same time.

To Prodigy.

It was an intense experience.

Kettlebells is the weirdest.

Also this morning, Ky and I headed to the first Farmers’ Market of the season.

It’s basically a holiday around here.

We got to see all of our favorite familiar faces, and the rain (mostly) held off, leaving us to pick up some early spring produce without getting soaked.

Summer’s almost here, chickadees.

I can feel it in my bones.

Also this morning, I ran errands into the ground, hitting up Nine West, CVS, and Target before lunchtime.

It’s been a highly successful day so far.

And I’ve got hours left in this day still.

Up next, I figure out if teal jeans is really something I dare to do, finish up some reading, hit the couch with my laptop, and make dinner for my family.

It’s a grilling kind of night, despite the is.it.raining.or.not weather we’ve got going on in the Second City.

I predict good things for the rest of the weekend. Hope you’re enjoying yours!

We went on a team outing to Inspiration Cafe to cook and serve some folks in the Uptown neighborhood.

I probably cut about a million pounds of pork into stir fry strips.

Precisely the kind of work I’m into.

It was (as volunteering usually is) a totally fulfilling and worthwhile experience, and also a good way to spend some time with the team before we head to Boston to our event in a couple weeks.

We’re a pretty fun crowd.

Post our volunteering experience, we headed to Andersonville to grab drinks and dinner.

Which meant we laughed for about four hours straight.

It can’t be helped.

Not that I’d want to help it anyway.

After toasting to our event, our team, and the next couple of crazy weeks, we took ourselves home.

This particular cab ride with CJ & JK was the funniest yet.

I’m pretty sure the driver thought we’d lost our minds.

We probably have.

In thinking about how I can properly articulate why we were laughing so hard we were crying, I really can’t come up with a specific reason.

It might have been JK swearing her allegiance to Barack Obama.

It could have been that I demanded we take pictures of ourselves in the cab like we were in college, and that they all turned out terrible (but we thought they were pretty awesome at the time)

Definitely, CJ laughing so hard she was shaking didn’t help.

It’s all in a day’s work, chickadees.

Please let me tell you something that happened to me yesterday.

You know  how I’m a fan of the over.share.

Yesterday, I was leaving the office later than usual, and I grabbed a long overdue expense report to drop off on the floor below me.

Yes, we have to take elevators to every floor, even if it’s only one down.

I stepped into the elevator and automatically pressed 1.

It’s a reflex after a long day. I wanted out of there.

When I realized I had sped past my intended floor, I panicked and hit all the buttons.

I recognize that this is an amateur move.

The elevator finally came to a halt at 15, which is where the MTV offices in Chicago reside.

The MTV offices are much cooler than the association management offices, in case you were wondering.

I bet you were not.

When I got off the elevator, I figured I’d just ride back upstairs and deposit my paperwork.

Except, upon further inspection, I couldn’t locate any elevator buttons.

I canvassed the area, but seemed to be coming up empty.

Maybe they’re somehow motion sensitive, I thought, because I am a crazy person.

I tried walking the perimeter.

No dice.

I wondered if I could call someone from my office to come rescue me from the 15th floor.

A great plan, if  I ever remembered anyone’s phone number, and if it wasn’t past the hour where most people had already headed home.

I was just resigning myself to a night in the elevator bank (they probably don’t even have a wireless signal was an actual thought that I had), when a light bulb went off.

Maybe CJ would have someone’s number.

I called her, but unfortunately, all I got was voice mail.

Back to contemplating a life in the elevator bank.

It might even make a good Lifetime movie.

After probably a total of ten to fifteen minutes, an actual employee of MTV came through the doors of her lobby and eyed me suspiciously.

I tried to look cool, like maybe I worked there.

I wasn’t fooling anyone.

Since I perceived that the jig was up, I nonchalantly asked her how one called an elevator on this floor.

She looked at me like I was crazy, and reached behind a trendy fixture to where the buttons were located.

In the right light, they might even be described as “not hidden”.

But I’m not willing to draw that conclusion without a second look.

And I’m never stopping at 15 again.

So I guess it will stay a mystery the rest of my days.

Take it easy out there chicks.

Yesterday brought the kind of showers I thought were reserved for April.

Wrong again.

During a break in the action, I headed to soccer, where we started the game five players short, jogging around an already soggy field.

The rest of our team showed up quickly enough, but so did the rain.

The sky opened up and poured on us for some number of minutes before a particularly loud crash of thunder convinced our referees it was maybe time to call it a day.

I made my way home looking pretty much identical to a drowned rat.

One with a particularly unruly ponytail.

Despite this, I would still contend that there’s nothing more fun than a soccer game in the rain.

And a shower immediately after.

Today marks the start of a three week period of organized chaos- one week of work + Aus’ confirmation + JW’s parents in for the weekend + two days of class in the ‘burbs + Philadelphia for LZ’s wedding (yay!) + a week in Boston for our conference…

=

I’m not sure what’s about to happen to me, but I’m assuming it’s gonna call for an intense course of over caffeinating  and less sleep than I’m used to getting.

Tag me in chickadees, I’m ready to roll.

It’s a rainy, dark kind of Sunday over here.

I’d even be open to it, if I wasn’t scheduled to get out on a soccer field in an hour.

Nothing like trudging around in the rain with your teammates, right?

It worked out pretty well for us last week, I must admit.

Yesterday was on record the busiest day in a long time. After kettlebells and breakfast, we headed over to JD+CC’s brand new condo to help them move back into our neighborhood.

Welcome back, pals. You have no idea how much I missed you.

Or how much I’m planning at being your house now that you’re back.

After an afternoon of unpacking boxes (including a box of JD’s college papers- on the back of one is a slew of non-sensical, crazy notes between the two of us. We obviously weren’t very vested in whatever we were studying), we headed over to MC’s for a Cinco de Mayo themed BBQ.

There were fireworks.

And sparklers.

Also, tequila and sodas- chickens, I cannot recommend that as a good choice.

It’s basically a big glass of tequila.

And we all know how that ends.

After we’d all indulged in chicken, dip, and every tortilla chip in Chicagoland, we headed out to Logan Square to catch my friend JM’s band, Wild Jesus and the Devil’s Lettuce Family Party Band.

They are the most fun ever.

You can’t convince me otherwise.

Also, pretty blurry in the above picture, but it’s hard to catch them in action. My friend JM is the saxophonist on the left.

After an awesome set of music (and free records! Even if I don’t have a record player…details) and some dancing with all my friends, we climbed into a cab and made our way home to bed.

Where I stayed until 10:00 am this morning.

This weekend’s been too fun, chickadees.

Let’s see what else it has in it.

This is not an unusual undertaking, once it gets dark.

“Get that van over there,” CJ said, as JK and I chattered away.

We waited patiently for the other riders to exit, and climbed in.

It was a handicapped-equipped van, which basically meant that it had no front row of seats, just a giant space, and the back seat.

The three of us squeezed onto the bench like sardines, and headed in the direction of JK’s apartment.

We were so far from the driver that we could barely hear him.

“My feet don’t even touch the ground,” I whispered.

JK looked down and started laughing as I hissed at her not to look.

She looked anyway.

When we arrived at our first destination, JK wrenched herself from between the two of us and then attempted to open the sliding van door.

Which she couldn’t do.

The driver told her to try harder, so she buckled down and pulled with all of her might.

And ended up basically in CJ’s lap.

“Is this a joke?” she asked.

It was not.

At this point we had dissolved into a fit of inappropriate laughter, and the cab driver had actually come into the cab through the other sliding door to assist us.

He had no problem opening the door.

Eventually, once we stopped laughing, JK exited and waved goodbye.

Next up, we headed north to CJ and my neighborhood.

“I feel like I should put my seatbelt on,” CJ said, staring into the abyss of the taxi.

The car stopped suddenly at that moment, and CJ went scuttling into the open space of the cab.

I buckled up as she scrambled back onto the seat.

Every minute’s an adventure, chickens.

Always wear your seat belt.

I woke up feeling like I had not gotten one wink of sleep, rushed around the house in a panic trying to decide is there anything in my closet that I don’t hate (answer: maybe, but I didn’t notice anything), and then decided a good course of action would be to clean my makeup brushes.

What?

How that’s an appropriate in.the.middle.of.an.already.rushed.morning is sort of beyond me, but before I knew it, I was in my bathroom trying not to splash foundation all over an outfit I’m not even sure I like.

Chickens, I think I have some problems with moving in a straight line these days.

Of course, after I plunged my hands into a bunch of alcohol (for the cleaning of the brushes, not for the alarmingly early drinking), my nail polish peeled off my fingers, so there was that to deal with.

My bathroom maybe smells like a chemical lab at this juncture.

Luckily, I wised up and got to the important stuff, like eating breakfast and listening to the radio tell me it’s going to be 85 degrees today.

Well okay, Chicago, whatever you’d like.

My hair will be in a ponytail until future notice, chickadees.

Someone please explain to me how that just happened.

In any case, it’s here now, and effectively, we’re one, big, May-sized step from summer in Chicago.

That’s something worth holding on for, if you ask me.

Which I assume you just did.

Last night I finally headed to the grocery store, as I decided it was crucial to have more than mustard and sriracha hanging out in my fridge. I’ve been living off of my mother’s kind donations of pasta and turkey sandwich supplies the past couple of days, but I’m getting to the end of my rations here.

Also as an actual, practicing adult I should probably be doing my own grocery shopping.

After stocking my home with actual food, I crashed on my couch (literally, chickadees, since there is a small chance I got into a Dean & Deluca candy medley that was sent to the office–I probably ate 1000 jellybeans yesterday afternoon) and caught up on Gossip Girl.

Yes, I know I’m the only person still watching that.

And certainly the only 28-year-old willing to admit it.

I’m comfortable in my poor choice of television.

In any case, I needed another night off, as my legs were actually more sore yesterday than the day after the race.

Sneaky, quads, sneaky.

Up today, I’m taking one more rest day before returning to the world of the workout, hunkering down in my cube for a day full of meetings and spreadsheets, and then having dinner with my pals.

May’s looking pretty good, chicks, the way it’s stretching out in front of me.

And happy Sunday!

My pack of running friends and I are relaxing after a long day yesterday in Champaign, IL.

Yesterday at this time we had run 13.1 miles, you see.

I have the medal to prove it.

Everyone had a strong race, and 3 of the 5 in our little group finished their first half yesterday, which was awesome.

The course itself was flat for the most part, took us all through Urbana (including a beautiful park), and ended on the field of University of Illinois’ football team.

It was a pretty sweet way to hit the finish line.

I finished in just over 2:11, about 30 seconds slower than my 2009 half. I was a little disappointed that I couldn’t pull out the PR, but I ran a more consistent race this time around.

As in, I didn’t even take a walking break. Which is really my proudest accomplishment in this race. My legs kept moving in some semblance of a jog for over 2 hours.

Also as soon as we all found each other my friends were stretching and hydrating while I was throwing back pizza, pasta, and basically anything I could get my hands on.

This seemed about right at the time.

I love running, chickens.

Also eating, apparently.

Equally impressive was my friend JM choosing a half marathon as his first race EVER, JW finishing strong despite his job and his grad school studying, MOC rocking out her first half and also planning on doing a full in October, and my favorite running pal MC for pacing everyone at some point in this training/racing.

I love racing with friends, you guys.

Once we all took our necessary showers, we met up for a day of delicious brunch, interesting beers and good company.

Also, more pizza.

However, despite our best efforts we were home and in bed before eleven.

It was a good day to be kicking, that’s for sure.

Hope everyone’s having a lovely Sunday!

Tomorrow is race day.

I ran 3 miles last night through the sunny, chilly ‘hood, and felt pretty solid at the end of it.

Let’s hope I’ll feel that way 10 more after that.

We can dream, can’t we?

In any case, my sneakers and all my gear is packed up, I’m eating protein and carbs this morning, and only a few hours stand between me and the race site.

And then the actual race, of course.

I’ve felt, in general, like this training hasn’t been quite as strict as the last time I ran a half marathon, but I’m trying to make peace with that.

When I think about it objectively, I still ran a lot of GD miles.

Also, I was maybe just a little bit more obsessive compulsive at 25.

It’s true. I was worse than this.

Somehow I just don’t feel quite as prepared this time around, despite knowing that I hit all the milestones on my training plan.

Yes, my training plan is in Excel format.

I think it’s a mental issue, and I’m hoping it dissipates as soon as my feet hit the pavement.

The hot beats should help with that one.

Race weather’s looking to be about 45 and stormy, which means I’ll be layering up and crossing my fingers that I stay warm enough.

But not too warm, chicks.

It’s all a balancing game on race day.

So I’ll be taking deep breaths all day and thinking positive thoughts- wish me luck chickadees, I’ll need all the good energy I can get tomorrow!