Saturday, March 03, 2007

don't walk. fly.

After I made it out of O'Hare on time, it was supposed to be smooth sailing. It wasn't really snowing, so no issues initially. However, if I was going to be stuck anywhere it was supposed to be on the Chi-leg of the trip. I guess I should be ready to return back to normal life, but I'll own up to loving the break from reality. I'd happily put back on my snow shoes for another day and have stayed put. After all, never did get that Chi-hot dog. There was definitely no desire for quality bonding time with the airport here in Philly.

Last night in Chicago (well, Evanston I guess, if we're getting technical) was a perfect end to my half-vacation. In keeping with my anti-chain theme, the Titan took me to dinner at a local restaurant, the
Davis Street Fish Market. He'd never been before. Excellent seafood! I've definitely been on a seafood kick to balance out my prime rib a couple of days back. Afterwards we checked out the new Jim Carey movie, the Number 23. Very interesting movie... still contemplating that one. Wasn't quite what I was expecting, but did make me think.

Learned some important lessons on the trip. All of those "don't walk" signs? Yeah, just suggestions. In terms of IL math, seis just might equate to cuatro. The song "Sweet Home Alabama" does in fact follow me everywhere I go (and I'm okay with that). When it's cold and you have on a hood, seeing is a distant second to keeping the snow out of ones eyes... at least in my book. And most importantly, it's never too late to finally get the chance at that first dance.

And now here I am, hanging in Philly. Not even a second Chick-Fil-A sweet tea or actually getting to go outside into that fifty something degree weather supposedly in full force would make me want to be hanging out here at the moment. iPod is dead and wireless seems to be held hostage by someone somewhere, so options are limited to pass the time. I'd much rather be chilling on the Titan's fine rented couch watching season 4 of Scrubs, but alas, here I sit. Sigh.

Will I make it to Sassy's pre-birthday party dinner this evening as originally planned? Magic 8 ball would say outlook doubtful. But a girl can dream.



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