I love Chicago. It’s home. I will never leave Colorado, it’s too perfect for me and my family, but Chicago is home. I know the best restaurants to hit (my gumbo levels are getting too low), how to get from point A to point B (unlike the rest of the freaking country, the whole city is laid out in a grid, so when I “go around the block”, I’m really going around the block, and not just getting terribly confused in a mess of cul-de-sacs), and know that it’s going to be colder than a witch’s tit in a brass bra in December (have fun with that, Google searchers!).
But so many things have changed since I moved away. Marshall Field’s is now a Macy*s, which pisses me off to no end. I can’t do anything about it, but if it means that I can get Frango mints in Colorado, I can deal with it. The Berghoff, the greatest and most famous restaurant in Chicago, closed its doors in February. How famous? It held liquor license #1 in Chicago, getting the first one after Prohibition. I loved that restaurant, I had many a birthday there. Tom and I knew people who flew into Chicago before it was shuttered just to have one last supper there. Millenium Park is done and being enjoyed by millions of people; I have yet to go there. I’ve heard it’s wonderful.
So while Colorado is now home, Chicago is home to my memories. I’ll always love it, and since my family is all here, I’ll always come back.
Concert update: I went to my middle school’s pre-convention concert last night. Holy CRAP, I couldn’t believe that was a middle school band. I’ve heard high schools that weren’t that good. My pride bursts out all over and makes a gooey mess.
And now I suppose I should get cleaned up and do something remotely productive. It’s good to be with the grandparents, someone’s got my back.