(Photo: My neighborhood, your destination–how do we meet in the middle? The Nichols Bridgeway from the Art Institute of Chicago’s Modern Wing.)

During their windy City visit last week, Seattle’s coolest couple, Kasey and John, waxed giddily about the fun and frolic of my downtown Chicago neighborhood. Their reaction stands in stark contrast to the one I normally get from native Chicagoans when I tell them I live downtown. It’s almost like telling a New Yorker you never ride the subway. The response is always the same: no one’s stopping you from doing it, but why would you want the hassle?

Outer-neighborhood Chicagoans tend to think downtowners suffer through our central-city lives. How on earth do we live without backyard barbecues, front-door parking, and a cricket on every window ledge? It’s hard to describe the devotion some of us feel for our high-rise Chicago ‘hood.

It just widens the rift to try and explain the dreadful boredom their pastoral images of suburban Lincoln Square life bring up for us. And woe to us if we do express an iota of dissatisfaction with life at address numbers below 1200. (“If you don’t like it, then leave,” is a common Windy City answer for all sorts of questions when the Chicagoan doing the answering can’t think of anything else to say.)

So just why do I live in downtown Chicago? Last fall, before warm weather headed towards 17 below, I took a walk to ponder an appropriate answer. I came down to earth from the 38th floor and found the couch ladies sunning themselves in the late afternoon on the Marina City plaza overlooking the Chicago River.

“I never get tired of sitting out here,” said Proud Mary, gazing across the river at the Loop. Beyond 70 now, she’d lived in the towers since she was just beyond 60. “To be able to see skyscrapers like this from your front yard never ceases to amaze me.”

“Living in Marina City is pretty interesting, in and of itself,” said Great Kate, of similar age but far longer longevity in the towers. “What with Gary Kimmel, House of Blues craziness, and Vincent Falk, there’s never a dull moment.”

I left the ladies to their reverie and headed through the blooming former IBM Plaza to cross the river on the wooden planks of the Wabash Avenue Bridge, hearing the drone of tour guides from the architecture cruises passing below. Since I hadn’t eaten dinner yet, I thought about dropping into Emerald Loop, the Vaughan-family pub tucker under the Jeweler’s Building at the south end of the bridge.

When I moved downtown, I never expected a hoodie two blocks from my house. Servers who recognize me, a mean rare burger (as long as it isn’t the weekend), and a good head on a pint of Smithwicks in a downtown pub that isn’t overrun by tourists is hard to turn down. But I was on a mission, so I passed by and walked over to Michigan Avenue.

As I crossed Randolph, I ran into a film crew outside the Cultural Center. Coming from New York City, I’ve always found filming in my neighborhood bothersome. (Whether in Park Slope, Brooklyn, or downtown Chicago, who wants to delay their emergency pharmacy run for allergy meds so yet another Batman film crew can line up a shot?) I dodged the crew hand trying to stop me from crossing the street and proceeded through their shot and on my way.

Music led me across the street into Millennium Park. A free evening of open-air ballroom dancing had taken over the lawn at the Pritzker Pavilion. I found the rhythmic movement of the crowd mesmerizing–and a bit more calming then the rock fest that wafted through the flowers of the adjacent Lurie Garden during my (attempted) sunset meditation the day before.

I continued across Monroe into Grant Park. It was seven o’clock by now. In the distance, I could see Buckingham Fountain begin its hourly geysering. Ever since moving to Chicago, I’ve headed to the fountain whenever I’ve felt the need to ponder my life. That evening was no different. As usual, I sat on the benches in the southeast corner of the plaza and watched the fountain erupt across the backdrop of the Loop skyline to the delight of tourists from parts elsewhere. Most likely all of whom–like me, to this day–unable to watch the spectacle without hearing the theme from Married with Children in their heads.

But even my trusty fountain offered no way to explain to others why I live in downtown Chicago. So I headed back towards Michigan Avenue, past the ball fields along Balbo. They gay softball leagues were playing, so I paused to happily gape for awhile, then continued south on Michigan towards Roosevelt. The border flower gardens were still blooming along the way (thanks to Chicago’s favorite gardening lesbian, Christy Webber, and her Far South Side urban-landscaping empire). Tourists always seem to keep to the sidewalks at the edge of Grant Park. Instead, I made like local stroller pushers and dogwalkers and wended my way along the grass between the rows of plantings.

Hunger finally won out at 11th Street. I turned back into the street grid, knowing exactly where to head. Corned beef with a schmear of chopped chicken liver and an egg cream (taken away early by the waiter, meaning–score!–second egg cream on the house) hit my ex-New Yorker spot at Eleven City Diner. I noshed until after eight.

It was well past dark as I exited the eatery. Ordinarily I’d have walked home. I find the mid-evening hours in the Loop after the theater crowd has headed in off the sidewalks a time of quiet potential. But that night I was too pooped–and stuffed–to continue pedding.

Instead, I headed to the Roosevelt CTA station and plopped down on a cloth-covered Orange Line seat for my 10-minute ride home to State and Lake, without an answer, thinking maybe I had it all wrong.

What was the big deal about downtown Chicago, anyway? I could just picture my suburban friends marveling–and rolling their eyes–at walking two miles (“Why bother?”) through a city park (“Was it safe?”) to go to a diner (“Don’t they deliver?”) and come home on an ‘L’ train (for suburbanites, that speaks for itself).

As the train hurtled north through the South Loop ‘L’ canyon, I was brought back to my senses by a glimpse of a State Street billboard sporting a single sentence, laid out in large letters over a big bullseye:

“Living in Berwyn Makes Life Easier.”

And I’m sure it could. But for the life of me, I just can’t figure out how.

(Photo: Take me to your leader…and tell him to get this thing off of my head. Credit: Devyn Caldwell.)

This is just a quick weekend shout-out to a few sites that have shown my blog some linking affection in the past few days.  The Chicago Traveler is one the these.  TCT scribe, Matt B, is a Twitter contact and an overall cool netizen.  His site is a look at arts, events, and blogs in Chicago.  For fullest disclosure, his site is part of the b5 media network, but no, I do not get paid to say that.  Definitely worth a look.

Thanks also to Whet Moser at The Chicago Reader, for including CHICAGO CARLESS in the blogroll of the Reader’s Chicagoland blog.  This is the blogsite that, to my mind, the Chicago Tribune is trying to emulate with their Chicago’s Best Blogs feature.  Which I also glance at, but I like Moser’s edgy, opinionated tone (note to the Trib–unbutton those top two buttons an loosen up a smidge).

Finally thank you to Time Out Chicago.  Follow that link and you will find my former partner, Devyn Caldwell, and I featured in the online version of an article about how we pretty much double-handedly got the city to remove security cameras from the top of Millennium Park’s Crown Fountain back in December 2006 (see the photo at the top of this post–at the time, we even got some Tribune and New York Times love, too).  Thanks to TOC for remembering what the two of us accomplished.

However, TOC only links to Devyn’s archival Looper website. Now that site countains some of the best downtown Chicago architectural photography you have ever seen. But Devyn’s been living in NYC and publishing an urban photoblog there for a year now.  Check it out his equally stunning wast coast work at 24 Gotham.

It’s nice to see that some things never change.

(Photo: A giddy Yours Truly, looking over the top of Tribune Tower from a neighboring allium.)

[Note: Welcome to my readers today from Gapers Block and YoChicago!]

This year’s Great Chicago Places & Spaces, the Second City’s annual weekend orgy of behind-the-scenes guided architecture tours, gave me the best moment I’ve had in my entire five years in Chicago. On a sunny afternoon, Oak Park pastry chef Chris and I had a once-in-a-lifetime chance to literally peer under the skirt of Chicago. Well, really over it…from a surprise visit to the little-known observatory hidden in the onion dome atop Mag Mile’s historic Intercontinental Hotel.

I could fall off my chair just from writing that sentence. For giddy grins, unexpected views, and a peek inside Chicago’s coolest observatory that you never knew existed, browse below to hear–and see–more of my most magical day ever in my adopted sweet home, Chicago.

(Photo: A good shot to set the stage: Hotel Intercontinental practically hides behind the Tribune Tower on the east side of Mag Mile. Do you see the observatory yet? Credit: marktci.)

As always on a Great Chicago Places & Spaces weekend, I sat my rear on a cold Michigan Avenue sidewalk at 6:15 a.m. with several hundred other architecture buffs to have my pick of the day’s events. Chris and I wanted to do the tour of the new Trump tower–and being a downtown dweller, I let Chris stay asleep in Oak Park while I took a ten minute walk across the Loop to get in line outside the Santa Fe Building.

The Trump tickets went almost as quickly as Segway on the Lakefront always does, and both before I got to the front of the line. Our backup plan was to do the tour of Chicago’s Intercontinental Hotel. That’s the 42-story terra cotta skyscraper next to the Tribune Tower on North Michigan Avenue, former home of the Medinah Athletic Club in the 1920s and 1930s. You’d know it by the big, gold onion dome that sits at the top.

To make a long story short: who knew there was an observatory on top of that onion?

(Photo: Pay attention to those black voids atop the dome, ’cause that’s where we’re heading! Credit: MerlinsMan.)

And that’s where our tour ended up. After an hour of viewing gorgeous conference rooms, banquet halls, and the grand old indoor swimming pool, our tour guide, architect Nathan Kipnis, and the assistant building engineer said we had one last place to visit, and it would involve a very small elevator and sweeping away some spiders.

Indeed, first it involved a ride on a spacious elevator to the 38th floor, then a ride on a claustrophobia-inducing five-person (and that was pushing it) elevator to the 42nd floor, where we were treated to shallow outdoor terraces on the eastern and western sides of the building. (Boy, am I glad I had my iPhone with me!)

(Photo: View southwest from the western outdoor terrace.)

(Photo: A happy pastry chef.)

(Photo: Looking up at the onion dome from the outdoor terraces.)

Considering that, as a Marina City resident, I get to have an unobstructed outdoor view of Chicago from our 61st floor roofdecks anytime I want, the unique vista from the Intercontinental roof was astounding. From peering directly at the top of the Tribune Tower to looking down onto the Wrigley Building and NBC Tower, it was an unexpectedly delightful perspective.

(Photo: View south towards the Tribune Tower from the western outdoor terrace.)

(Photo: View southeast towards NBC Tower from the eastern outdoor terrace.)

(Photo: View north up the Magnificent Mile from the eastern outdoor terrace.)

(Photo: View southeast towards Helmut Jahn’s glassy new 600 North Fairbanks Court from the eastern outdoor terrace.)

(Photo: View west towards Grand Plaza and the newly monickered “Montgomery” condos from the western outdoor terrace.)

(Photo: View northwest towards the dowdier Chicago Marriott from the western outdoor terrace.)

Next, a walk up two flights of rusty iron stairs brought us to the mechanical room at the bottom of the dome. There wasn’t much to see in this stuffy, windowless space except for an exhaust motor and the bottom of the observation deck’s concrete floor. But most of us explored the space anyway, the cost of which was a five-second, crouched duck walk underneath a massive exhaust shaft that cuts diagonally through the dome, connecting the basement furnaces with the combination chimney and (never used) zeppelin mooring mast that sprouts immediately north of the dome.

Then it was back out to the landing, where sunlight shined down through the rust of a spiral iron staircase. And then we were in the onion, as if arriving inside a whimsical golden lighthouse with holes instead of windows.

(Photo: Atop the creaky spiral staircase that leads to the onion dome observatory.)

(Photo: Narrow windows overlooking a narrow walkway at the entrance to the onion dome observatory.)

That was the most surprising part: not only does that gold dome contain a small, circular terrace observatory, but instead of windows, the dome is perforated with openings. And that meant lots of opportunity to literally hang outside of the dome and lean out over Michigan Avenue. (Also surprising, the dome is really painted cinderblock, although rumor has it that gold leaf will soon be applied as part of a restoration project).

(Photo: The structure of the dome observatory: a narrow, stepped circular walkway surrounded mostly by open air, and compact structural columns holding up the observatory roof.)

The idea that I would ever find myself in that dome, much less sticking my head up and out of it and staring eye-to-eye with the tippy-top of the Tribune Tower, would have been straight out of Fantasyland before Saturday. And don’t you know Chris and I walked away after the tour with grins on our faces like we two Disneyland fanatics had just hopped off of Space Mountain.

And I mean the good one in Anaheim, folks.

(Photo: Kipnis and company, at the top of the dome.)

(Photo: Looking towards the very top of the Intercontinental Hotel from the onion dome: the combination exhaust stack and (never-used) zeppelin dock.)

(Photo: View south from the onion dome observatory.)

(Photo: Group gaping, and the top of a soon-to-be-sunburned pastry chef’s head.)

(Photo: More contented group gaping, and the headgear of someone who’s watched one too many episodes of Rhoda.)

(Photo: View southwest from the onion dome observatory.)

(Photo: I look like I’m outside, but I’m really standing on the top step in one of the voids in the side of the dome. Because of the curve of the structure, my head is actually sticking out above the dome.)

(Photo: Trump, don’t feel too rejected. In 80 years or so, you may be a revered architectural landmark, too.)

(Photo: Goodbye, little open-air onion dome. Thanks for the great views. Not so much the pigeon poop and spider webs. Where did I put that hand sanitizer…)

###

(Photo: Innocent place of learning for kids…or the crux of all evil? Credit: Chicago Children’s Museum.)

I don’t have an answer to the question of whether the Chicago Children’s Museum should be allowed to build a new home for itself in Daley Bicentennial Plaza, a.k.a. the woefully underused northeast corner of Grant Park. But I do think the possibility deserves to be debated, and not cut off at the knees as the editorial board of the Chicago Tribune would have it.

Last year, the 25-year old museum announced plans (PDF link) to relocate from it’s longtime Navy Pier home to bigger digs in Daley Bicentennial Plaza, replacing an aging field house in the process. However, in a controversial September 2 editorial, the Chicago Tribune railed against the plan, instead holding fast to the 110-year-old Illinois Supreme Court ruling, based on an 1836 civic decree, that buildings are forever banned in Grant Park.

I don’t know, forever sounds like a long time to me. It’s not an opinion shared by Tribune architecture critic Blair Kamin, either, who on Tuesday called for a wider debate, on the merits of the museum’s still-developing design plans–and the current worth of the underused corner of Grant Park where the new museum building would sit. Kamin notes that even starchitect Renzo Piano (designer of the Art Institute’s vaunted new modern wing), thinks of Daley Bicentennial Plaza as “nowhere”. Since, according to the Chicago Park District, the park area will have to be replaced in the next few years to fix water leaks in the Monroe Street garage below, Kamin opines that everyone should keep an open mind when deciding what to put there next.

I tend to agree. In its opposition editorial, the Trib certainly made some spurious claims. For one thing, Grant Park is simply not an “unobstructed space”. No matter how curvy the top of Frank Gehry’s Pritzker Pavilion bandshell is, it’s not a sculpture. It’s a roof. Yet, how many loving paeans to the place have been printed in the pages of the Tribune since Millennium Park’s (tardy) dedication?

For another, it is ludicrous to call downtown Chicago an unwise place to seek to attract more visitors. If downtown Chicago, with its comprehensive transit facilities, wide sidewalks, bevy of crosswalk timers, and massive underground parking lots aimed at getting people out of their cars isn’t the one part of town we want to attract visitors to (two words, dear Trib: economic vitality), I’d like to know where they’d like us to send them.

But what really made me pause was this sentence:

“Rather than piggybacking on Millennium Park, the Children’s Museum can be the prime draw in its own community elsewhere.”

Last time I checked, downtown Chicago was the one neighborhood all Chicagoans can, and do–and should–call claim to. We are not an elitist city. We do not need an elitist downtown. Telling a cultural institution aimed at all Chicagoans to (in this case literally) pack up its toys and stay on its own side of town, in its own community elsewhere, harkens back to our city’s days of municipally sanctioned racism, when people of color were relocated to public housing on the west and south sides specifically to try and keep them out of the Loop. That our city’s main daily can say in all seriousness that downtown Chicago is too good for a children’s museum suggests a downtown Chicago that I’m certainly not living in–nor would I want to. The next time anyone is searching for evidence of the Tribune’s alleged fascist editorial leanings, look no further than this one sentence. It speaks volumes.

In fact, the Trib’s editorial was also challenged on these grounds, by prominent South Side pastor Rev. Michael L. Pflegler. In a September 9 letter to the editor, Pflegler called the newapaper’s stance an “elitist and narrow-minded view” that “is morally indefensible and should not be allowed to prevail.” Pflegler underscored the fact that there are no “outsiders” when it comes to Grant Park–no matter how socioeconomically privileged park neighbors may be (and no matter how much they may think Grant Park is “their” park by dint of sheer proximity), it is the right of all Chicagoans to use the park, no matter where they come from.

In a for more politic way, the Chicago Children’s Museum said essentially the same thing in its own published rebuttal. Essentially, a museum aimed at all Chicagoans has a place in downtown Chicago–especially one that is being designed to sit substantially below street level (as were the Harris Theater and Pritzker Pavilion in adjacent Millennium Park).

Hmm. I certainly never thought I’d see the Trib go toe-to-toe with Gigi Pritzker (you know she’s the museum’s chair, right?), especially with a Pritzker so firmly on the populist side. Now who do you think is going to win that battle?

In fact, who should win the battle is far from clear. Invoking a century-old law that has just been flouted in a such a major municipally and, er, millennially way is hypocritical. And assuming any group of Chicagoans has any stronger or weaker right to be in downtown Chicago is absurd. But the decree and court findings do exist for a reason: we Chicagoans (and how I love, finally, grouping myself into that term now) take our lakefront access very seriously.

And we’ve come a long way. We no longer have a downtown lakefront half-given over to surface train tracks and parking lots. We’ve wisely covered that all over with even more parkland, and with carefully designed, cherished public buildings. So it seems to me the record shows we are of two minds about the downtown lakefront. And that’s OK.

I think with a full and fair debate, vetting of plans, and some honest soul searching, we Chicagoans–park neighbor and Pritzker, museum goer and managing editor–will figure this one out. We’ve done it before; we’ll do it again. We’re wise enough to know the difference between art and overkill when it comes to Grant Park. As long as we’re unfettered in our debate, I’m sure an appropriate choice will prevail.

And then watch how fast the Tribune publishes an opening-day, commemorative insert.

(Photo: The former Millennium Park Martians go national. Credit: Looper.)

It’s official. I’m no longer the only half of this relationship who’s made it into the New York Times. Today, an article appears in the Times’ National section covering the Crown Fountain security camera debacle from earlier this month (A Tempest When Art Becomes Surveillance). Quoted in the article, mentioned (oh my) three times, and given props for getting the cameras down: my boyfriend, Devyn Caldwell, whom many of you know as Chicago’s tireless downtown photoblogger, Looper.

It was Devyn who shot photos of security cameras offensively installed atop Millennium Park’s world-famous Crown Fountain video towers while we were out taking a Sunday walk in our downtown stomping grounds on December 17. I used Devyn’s photos to blog about the cameras, the next day, after a well-placed pitch to Chicago Tribune architecure critic Blair Kamin, we were both interviewed by the Chicago Tribune for an article that made the front page of the Metro section (Trib interview here), and the following morning the cameras were removed by the city, just as hastily as they were installed.

And then the New York Times contacted Devyn. Quoth the reluctant artist:

“I think you think this is a bigger deal than I do.”

Let’s review. You were interviewed by the New York Times–essentially the nation’s newspaper (apologies to USA Today)–because the paper decided your opinion on the sanctity of public art, as expressed in your ability to help get homeland security cameras removed from atop public artwork in a major American city, was of national significance in this era of heightened security and degraded expectations about life in the public realm.

It took three weeks for anyone to actually look up and notice the cameras. Then you took photos that, within 24 hours, moved City Hall and helped re-establish reverence for public art in Chicago.

And that’s about as cool as it gets.

(Photo: Does this look like a landmark to you? If you’re a Marina City condo board member, better keep that answer to yourself. Credit: Looper’s flickr photostream.)

The Marina Towers Condominium Association signed a little-known but publicly available legal agreement in 2003 promising never to seek or support landmark status for Marina City.

Who knew?

Apparently, not preservation champions Landmarks Illinois and Docomomo Midwest, who, on December 7, recommended such a designation to the Commission on Chicago Landmarks. In fact, according to local architecture blogger Lynn Becker, who discussed the recommendation earlier this month, Marina City meets all seven criteria for being designated a local landmark.

So why did the Marina Towers Condominium Association enter into a 2003 agreement with the commercial interests who share the block-sized property–notably including the House of Blues–to turn its back on landmarking Bertrand Goldberg’s twin-towered icons of mid-century modernism?

The 132-page legal agreement, publicly available from the Cook County Recorder of Deeds website as document no. 0310503013 (“Second Amended and Restated Operating Agreement Among Marina City Hotel Enterprises, Marina Towers Condominium Association, and HOB Marina City Partners”), holds few clues, but it does have some other surprises.

Consider page 47, section 14.4:

“14.4 Political Covenant.

The MTCA for itself, and for any successor, covenants that it will not initiate, enact, endorse or in any way give support to or voice support for any action which (a) seeks to have the Complex or any portion thereof designated as a landmark; (b) seeks to have the precinct in which the Complex is located voted “dry”; (c) opposes, or challenges or seeks the revocation of any liquor license issued or to be issued or renewed to (i) the House of Blues Owner (or any Affiliate) or Occupant of the House of Blues or (ii) the Hotel (or any Affiliate) or operator of the Hotel or (iii) any Occupant of any commercial space in the Hotel/Commercial Property; or (d) seeks to have the Marina City Complex’s current zoning changed. Moreover, at the request of either the Hotel/Commercial Owner or the House of Blues Owner, the MTCA shall issue a letter, addressed to any potential Commercial Space tenant as either the Hotel/Commercial Owner or the House of Blues Owner identifies, expressly restating and reconfirming the foregoing covenant and affirming the MTCA’s continuing adherence thereto.”

Get that, folks? A covenant binding the condo board and its successors in perpetuity? One that the condo board is required to affirm, in writing, upon the request of the commercial owners? On the face of it, an odd agreement.

Wouldn’t residents benefit from increased property values that a landmark designation would almost surely generate? How about if the ever-present drunken rowdiness from House of Blues revelers finally got to be too much, and residents wanted to seek relief by requesting State authorities to suspend the HOB liquor license? Why would a condo board sign away what would seem to be options potentially beneficial to the owners that it represents?

Perhaps the price of peace between Marina City residents and the commercial interests who own everything from the 19th floor down–including the only access routes into the condominium towers–is for Marina City residents to shut up and keep smiling.

I wonder what kind of pressure was brought to bear on the Marina Towers Condominium Association in order for it to sign a “Political Agreement” like that. And I wonder why no one seems to knows about it. And if pressure really was brought to bear, then, at least for once, I truly feel sorry for the board. I’m sure lots of money and lots of time when into drafting the agreement. But no signatory comes away happy from entering into an agreement like that.

Well, maybe one does. But, sadly, not the one that represents the 1,300 people who live here.

Landmark lovers, if you’ve been asking yourselves lately why Marina City, itself, hasn’t been officially keen on landmark status, now you know. As far as why such demands were placed upon or agreed to by the MTCA, as a Marina City resident, I’d sure like to know the answer to that, myself.

Wouldn’t you?

Ah, the power of the blogosphere. As of 11:00 a.m. this morning, the City of Chicago has removed the security cameras (Trib follow-up article) from the top of Millennium Park’s Crown Fountain. And let me just say, WOO-HOO!

[Ed. note: the above-linked Trib article was also published on the front page of the Chicago Tribune's Metro section on Wednesday, December 20, keeping this story on Metro page 1 for two solid days!]

Yes, folks, mere hours after the publication of a highly critical Chicago Tribune article pitched by my architectural uber-photoblogger boyfriend, Devyn, that appeared smack on the front page of the Metro section today, the city came to its senses.

It was Sunday that Devyn and I were taking a photoblogging walk through the park when we came upon the ill-placed, visually offending cameras sticking out of the top of both video towers of Jaume Plensa’s celebrated fountain. After we picked our jaws off of the ground, Devyn started taking pictures.

Yesterday and Sunday we both blogged about the architectural defacement of the world-famous fountain–an act so unacceptable it brought to mind the jack-booted feet of homeland security officers literally trampling down the spirit of public art in America. And then Devyn emailed Trib architecture critic Blair Kamin and, thankfully, the Trib was as shocked as we were.

Given how quickly the cameras came down, I take it the mayor’s office was equally shocked, too.

Devyn and I love our Downtown Chicago neighborhood and the rest of our great city to absolutely no end, hence our distress. But I guess when your hearts are in the right place, you really can fight city hall. Credit is due overwhelmingly to Devyn, though, for writing one incredible pitch email to Blair. Go, Devyn!

So a big Thank You to the city for coming to its senses. And to our fellow Chicagoans (and not just the art and park lovers among you), and to Jaume Plensa (quoted in the second Trib article today), on behalf of my better half and me, you’re welcome!!!

Devyn, do you believe we’re a blogging power couple now?