"Chicago Cubs fans are 90% scar tissue." -- George F. Will

This weekend, I was given a gentle reminder as to why I don't live in Chicago.

Now, I don't want to start off directing my negativity toward Chicago or those who live there, because it is a lovely place and I have several good friends that have chosen to make it their home, and I respect the crap out of that.

That being said...

Here is my first issue: TRAFFIC

My dad and I went up for our annual Cubs game this past Saturday. On average, driving from Lafayette to Chicago (not during rush hour) is roughly three hours. I believe it took us somewhere around 4 1/2.

I don't know how many times we were brought to a dead stop on the Dan Ryan (we didn't take the Skyway because The Man has upped the tolls once again), but it was ridiculous. Everyone and their dentist was on the expressway with us, I'm pretty sure.

At one point, my dad said, "Life is too short to sit in traffic every day." Uhhhh, correct.

So, I realized that as I also loathe traffic, Chicago is probably out as a future city for me. It also rules out Atlanta, D.C. and pretty much any major city in California. I think I'm pretty much destined to be a small-town lady.

Anyway, we got to the game late and had to kick some twits out of our seats, as we do every year. We then sat down and proceeded to watch the Cubs tank and freeze our butts off.

This brings me to my second issue: WEATHER

Lafayette, a mere 3 hours south of Chicago, was 70 degrees when we left around 10:30am. Wrigley Field was 55 FLIPPING DEGREES.

Now, I know the lake front tends to be a little more brisk or breezy than even the west side of Chicago, but 55 degrees in June? Gross.

I was wearing jeans, a t-shirt and flip-flops and my teeth were chattering the whole time. It also rained for a good portion of the morning, making the day rather drizzly as well. I could barely drop four-letter words in the general direction of my team I was so cold.

So, in conclusion, traffic (both ways) was awful, the weather was foul, we missed the first 4 innings and the Cubs had a rather embarrassing loss at the hands of the Minnesota Twins (whose fans, by the way, are very polite!).




I think we had a great time!

Oh, Mr. Bones, that's terrible.

Yesterday, my mom and I went to a musical, sort of.

Okay, I need to preface this story with some background information.

My whole family is musically inclined in one way or another. We all sing, my dad plays organ and piano and my brother pretty much plays everything. We all like going to live shows and performances, although my dad tends to favor Gilbert and Sullivan while my brother prefers bands of which I've never heard.

So, when my mom told me she got tickets for the touring show of Ain't Misbehavin', I was pretty excited. I'd never seen it before and it featured Ruben Studdard, Frenchie Davis and Trenyce Cobbins from American Idol. What's not to like?

Anyway, my mom and I showed up to the theater last night, both ready to enjoy an evening of song, dance and general frivolity.

We both got settled in our seats, turned off our phones and opened our programs. I flipped to the listing of songs in each act.

My jaw dropped.

There were fifteen songs in the first Act. The conversation that followed between my mom and I probably sounded fairly normal to those sitting nearby, but for us, it had a completely different meaning:


What we said...

Sara: I didn't realize this show had so many songs.
Mom: Yeah, both acts look pretty long.
Sara: Isn't 30 Rock on at 9:30?
Mom: Oh, right. We're probably going to miss it.
Sara: Yeah, probably. Hey, I think we can move closer at intermission.
Mom: I'll bet you're right.

What we meant...

Sara: Oh, dear God. Did you realize how long this thing is?
Mom: I can't sit through this whole thing.
Sara: I am not missing 30 Rock.
Mom: Pfft, me neither!
Sara: Let's leave at half-time.
Mom: Two steps ahead of you.


What's funny is that it wasn't a bad show (well, what we saw of it). All the performers were quite good and easy to listen to. It wasn't that long, either. The first act was probably 45 minutes. It made no difference. Our attention spans were already shot.

Several times during the first act, one of us would lean over to the other and make a deep, philosophical observation about the show.

Mom: I was thinking about France for most of that song.
Sara: That's so weird because I was thinking about this French song I'm working on for my voice lessons!

...and then later...

Mom: Wanna get breakfast at Panera tomorrow?
Sara: Do I?!

...and then at half-time...

Sara: Maybe we should "walk around the lobby".
Mom: Good idea.

I would love to say that this is the first time something like this has ever happened (or that it will never happen again), but I'd be reserving my seat in Hades, right next to Pinocchio and Richard Nixon.

On a completely separate note, my good friend and fellow blogger, Lisa, has a brand new blog! It's called The Blonde Blogette and it's all about movies, music, pop culture and just about any other form of entertainment you can think of. She Facebooks, she Twitters, she blogs... she does it all!

On another, but final, completely separate note, it's disgustingly gorgeous outside. It's all I can do not to run outside and perform an interpretive ribbon dance to Miley Cyrus's "It's the Climb".

Oh, come on. You just wish you'd thought of it first.

I think I've got the black lung, Pop.

Some days just crawl by and today is moving about as fast as a 90-year old man behind the wheel of a coupe de ville with handicapped plates. Shut up, you know it's true.

I don't know what it is about today, but I have no energy and everything seems dull and slightly muted. It could be the craptastic weather that's taunting me through my office window or it could be my Easter lily that's dying a very slow and painful death in the corner. It could also be that I brought my lunch to work today and then hoovered it well before 11am.

I don't know what it is. To borrow yet another word from Liz Lemon, there is but one way to sum up this day: blurg.

When I get into this sort of a mood, I start doing less socially acceptable things to stay entertained. I might just start chucking pens across the room. Not with anger, mind you. I kind of like to toss them just to see them fly. It's kind of like when your cat jumps up on your dresser and knocks off every pair of earrings you have, just to see them fall, not that my cat does that with such regularity that I start to question her ability to tell time.

To borrow yet another word, I think I need to make this day spicy (thanks, Cjane). How shall I salvage this lackluster day?

1) Pick all the pens up off my floor
2) Order some Thai food for second lunch
3) Do the Robot when I think no one is looking
4) Mix up my multi-colored paper clips so it looks like I have 6 compartments of Lucky Charms on my desk
5) Walk like Naomi Campbell whenever I get up to visit the copy machine or the mail room

And one last quote from a guy I met at Indiana University, who has some of the best Facebook status updates this side of French Lick!

Carl thinks there'd better be some goddamn mind-blowing May Flowers after these April Showers.

Sell your crazy somewhere else because we're all full here!

I don't want to have to make sense today.

In fact, I'm resenting the hell out of the fact that I'm even trying to write coherent, sequential thoughts right now.

I am hyper aware of all the stuff on my desk. Most of it is clutter (the plastic bag in which I packed my sandwich, the Post-it I haven't thrown away yet, the keys I apparently refuse to put in my purse, etc.).

I just figured out my fidgety attitude. It is GORGEOUS outside today and well above 50 degrees. That mess doesn't happen very often in pre-Spring Indiana, so when it does, I want to frolic.

You heard me. I want to frolic and frolic good!

And I want a puppy! And fresh cut flowers! And a banana-chocolate chip muffin the size of a small child's head!

I'm feeling very impulsive which is bad for me. That's when I will go to Dick's Sporting Goods and purchase a pair of top-of-the-line canoeing shoes in day-glo orange to match my new, chemically altered gecko. Neither of these are good ideas.

I should be churning butter or reupholstering my sofa. I don't know how to do either of those things, but damned if I shouldn't be doing both of them at the same time!

Oh my gosh, I just figured out who I am at this precise moment. I am the little girl in church that runs to the front of the sanctuary and lifts her dress over her head. At this moment, I totally know where that child is coming from.

Well, if Bambi has taught us anything, Spring will soon be here and we will all be twitterpated to the nth degree.

Looking forward to it!