Tuesday, August 31, 2010

A Weekend Away

This weekend I hopped a plane.

Actually, I hopped a few planes but that's beside the point.

I flew and flew and flew.

(this is the part where I say, 'and boy, were MY arms tired!')


A whole weekend in Chicago.

My mom had her 50th high school reunion and an extra bed in her hotel room, so I took her up on the offer to sleep in it.

Thanks, Mom!

While she partied like it was 1969 (or in this case, 1960) I played tourist and hung with my aunts and uncles and cousins and their kids and saw their houses and ate way too much and laughed lots.

I have tons of pictures and tons of stories, like the one were my cousin Cheryl (who is my age) was hit on by one of my Mom's classmates, but for now I am swamped in back to school prep for the boys so it will have to wait.

But let me just tell you...that Chicago BEAN is really, really cool.
And my childhood coffee cake, only available there....strangely called FLOP.


One of the interesting things about moving constantly as a kid is that you are never really 'from' anywhere.

(And now I tell people, just to keep it simple, that I am 'from' Boulder because it truly is 'home' to me. Two of my babes were born there and I developed such an incredible sense of family and friendship and love and peace and happiness there. Corny, but true...)

Sure, I was born in Chicago so technically I am 'from' there, but by the time I was 2 I had already moved away...nonetheless, Chicago is where my extended family is and where I spent chunks of my life.

Anyway, it was lovely spending time with all my family there. Thank you for welcoming me 'home'. It meant a lot to me.


That being said, there is no place like home. Home, sweet little home. I flew in and was picked up by my beloved girlfriends, came home to boy central and cooked up a ginourmous pot of Julia Child's boeuf bourguignon.

There's just something about cooking in your own kitchen to make you feel like you are home. That and reaching your toes out at night and touching the toes of the one that you like so much.



  1. Cheryl is NOT your age. She is older. She is so old, that she will turn 50 next year. Just want to let you know so that you don't put yourself into that age category, and then possibly be picked up by old guys at a 50 year hs reunion! :-)

  2. Watch out, sister dear...you are only two teeny little years behind me, and you are definitely older than your cousin! By the way, I hear fifty is fabulous and I intend to enjoy every minute of it (just not with somebody who is enjoying a 50-year reunion instead of a 50-year birthday)!


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