arriba

Before I return to the Tale of Engalond, I must take a detour through Mexico, where I was this past weekend. As the school sponsor of the Interact Club, I went along with 12 of our students and members of the local Rotary Club for a service project across the border in Ciudad Acuña, Mexico. We stayed in a motel in Del Rio, on the Texas side of the river, and drove over the bridge for dinner Friday night, our work day on Saturday, and then back over for shopping and dinner Saturday night. It was a really good experience for the students, and I enjoyed myself very much. I helped with the painting of the school a bit, and took lots of photos to share with everyone. I rode down with the Rotary sponsor for our club, and enjoyed getting to know him better. Also was glad to get to know the other gentlemen of the local Rotary; all seemed to be very nice men. One guy, about my age, kept calling me "ma'am" which made me feel really old or something. Another man asked me to dance at the Friday night dinner, do I did! Explained that I haven't danced in years. It was kind of fun.

sticky

Back to the Chicago trip.

Despite having a splitting headache, sore throat and heavy chest, I really enjoyed the concert. I couldn't yell, or sing, or go "woot", but I could listen and smile.

After the concert, B went to get out coats while I went to the merch table to get a Jiggs cap for T. After I bought it and walked out to the lobby to find B, I realized that Josh had come out to the merch table. Much as I wanted to go back in for a hug, I really didn't feel up to it. We decided to splurge and take a taxi back to the hotel instead of waiting for a bus in the cold.

I was feeling pretty bad by this time, so went straight to bed. My chest was so congested and I felt that if I could only cough, I'd feel better. Sometime during the night, I woke up as I coughed, and, okay this is graphic and gross, but a wad of phlegm came up from my lungs and lodged in my windpipe and I couldn't breathe. I was having to struggle to get even a little air. It occured to me that I could pass out and die and no one would know, so I manage to whisper B's name. She had told me she could sleep through anything so I was afraid she hadn't heard me struggling to breathe. Turns out she had, and watched with concern as I sat up and continued to work to pull in air. In a few moments, the blockage subsided and I was able to breathe again. Propped up on extra pillows and managed to get back to sleep.

Monday morning we knew we had to head out to the airport, but first we set out in lovely snowfall to find the Belgian waffle restaurant we had spotted our first night in town. We knew what street it was on, just a few blocks north of the hotel, so we walked up that way. Couldn't find it. Decided it might be on another street, walked over and down: couldn't find it. Damn. No Belgian zucker waffles for us. We went back to the hotel in defeat and ate donuts instead.

Clever girls that we are, we checked out and took the bus to the train station, then took the train back out to the airport. Discovered that our flight was showing "delayed", said delay stretched into two hours. We had gotten to the airport early anyway, so were there for a very long time. Shared a plate of bbq wings with carrots and celery. B had a nice Long Island iced tea. Finally boarded, flew home uneventfully, were picked up by T and taken home. Poor B then had to drive back to her place, so she didn't get home til 11 p.m.

Overall, an A+ trip with the exception of me becoming ill. If I had felt better, it would have been totally excellent.

William

Last night T mentioned that it was exactly 29 years ago that my father died. February 20, 1978. I hadn't thought of it. For 29 years I guess I've been an orphan, though I don't think of myself that way. Mostly I think of daddy when I have my colonoscopy (he died of colon cancer) or when I see Lawrence Welk, or someone balancing something. He was 64. My husband is now older than that. Weird. Dad was very funny; I wish I had appreciated him more.

face forward in the wind

Mmmm, hot dogs, that's where I left off. Hot dogs on buns with mustard, onions, relish, tomatos, pickle spear and picled peppers. Crispy fries. Suitably warmed, we again struck off for the Water Tower. It turns out that we were only a few blocks away by then. We took some pictures, then dashed inside the fragrant Hershey's shop. Not that Hershey is my favorite chocolate by any stretch of the imagination, but it was close, warm, and smelled soooooo nice.

The next scheme was to catch a bus back to our hotel. I am still amazed that we managed to do so. Chicago is laid out in such a simple grid and has soooo many bus lines that it's really easy to get around. This bus went up Lake Shore Drive through Lincoln Park and let us out on Diversey just to the east of our hotel. We wanted to relax and rest before the concert Sunday night, so went to the hotel. By this time my headache was throbbing and my throat was more sore than ever. I plopped down on the bed in exhaustion. Sweet B got a blanket and covered me but I just couldn't manage to feel warm. A very very long hot bath worked wonders; I emerged warm and breathing.

Back in the balmy fall when we planned this trip, I chose this hotel partly because it seemed to be within walking distance of the concert venue. And it would have been, easily, if I had not been ill and the temp had been above mid-20s. We decided to walk down Clark and find someplace for dinner, then take the bus down to Armitage and the venue. This worked out well; we hadn't gone too terribly far when we came across Oodles of Noodles, where B got a huge plate of pineapple fried rice and I had some very nice noodles. Thus fortified, we found a bus and arrived at the venue easily. We were a little later than planned but there wasn't a line for coat check so we got rid of our heavy coats right away. I made a beeline for the merch table, only to find that the tour shirts were already sold out in every size but small. Very sad, but I consoled myself with the Idaho/piano shirt instead, and a "Jiggs" hat for T., so when we go out together it'll be Me and Jiggs.

We went on into the concert hall, stopping to get a drink for B., and checked out the set-up. Right in front of the stage they had smallish tables, about 15 feet long, perpendicular to the stage. Those seats seemed pretty crowded, but we went on down and actually found two seats slightly to the right of center and only three chairs from the stage. Awesome. We got a guy across from us to take a picture of me and B together - can't wait to see it, because I suspect I looked as bad as I felt, despite being invigorated by the anticipation of my first time to see Josh headlining.

More to follow.

man ray skies

Continuing . . . Saturday evening after we ate it was just too cold to do much of anything so we huddled in our hotel room watching Daytona 500 qualifying races. Did I mention that B is a redneck? ;) We remained so full of pizza that we weren't interested in going out for dinner even. During the evening, I realized that my chest was beginning to feel congested and hoped it was due to the cold air or second-hand smoke or something other than a virus.

Sunday morning dawned, err, cold. We breakfasted in the hotel on cereal and yogurt and such, plenty to get us going. Ever the intrepid explorers, we decided to set out for the Art Institute using public transportation. Once again, we got on a bus going the right direction and alit at the L station. B was soooo cute about all this, being unaccustomed to it. We took the Brown Line to the Loop and got off at the right stop (notice how delighted I am with our success on public transportation? This relates to issues faced last year in NYC, going the wrong way on subways).

The Art Institute was as wonderous as I remembered it. Huge, meandering, treasures at every turn. Unfortunately, by then my throat was hurting along with my head, so I didn't feel up to staying as long as I would have liked. Didn't take the time to track down American Gothic. B and I took a break at the Institute cafe for a coke and a conference with our map. We decided the best course of action would be to walk up Michigan Ave. toward the Water Tower, hopping a bus along the way. The best laid plans . . .

Of course by this time we were very hungry, having used our meager breakfast calories to keep our bodies warm all morning, so we were sort of looking for a place to get a Chicago hot dog as we, err, strolled. We happened upon Millenium Park so stopped to watch ice sculptures being created (we had seen a story about that on the news the night before).
It was really interesting to stop and watch. There's a very cool sculpture at the park as well, Cloud Gate. We continued our northward trek, stopping to take pictures as we crossed the frozen Chicago River. Hungrier and hungrier, we plodded ever onward. Finally I realized that we weren't going to be finding a hot dog stand on Michigan Ave., so we diverted ourselves a couple of blocks to the west and fairly soon came across Portillos, across the street from Hard Rock Cafe and the rock & roll McDonalds. Warmth, seats, dogs and fries soon revived our flagging spirits.

My kind of town

Abandoning in mid-stream, so to speak, though it reminds me of a urine sample, my attempt to detail the London trip, I must move on to Chicago while it, at least, is still fresh in my mind. How much can I say in the ten minutes available tonight?

Last Saturday we left balmy Texas for the frigid north. B and I arrived at O'Hare and delighted ourselves by finding a machine at which we could purchase CTA cards good for the next three days on all buses and trains. Wheeeee! We promptly took the train into town, then a bus (even going the correct direction) which dropped us off half a block from our hotel. Delightful. Hotel, built in 1913, was a little shabby but perfectly acceptable and offered coffee and tea in the lobby at all times, essential for rewarming ourselves when coming in from the cold. That day I think the high may have reached 9 F. Maybe.

So anyway, we checked in then went in search of pizza, which we found at a little place a few blocks from the hotel. Not bad at all, though it looked like roadkill in the cellphone picture that I sent to Z.

Not enough time for details, so for now, let me remind myself that I left Chicago even more in love with the music of Josh Ritter than ever before. (I'm reminding myself because I'm the one who reads this, self, in case you/I have forgotten)