This is an epic post, so let me eat my words up front. Despite my pre-trip trepidation to travel to the land of the abandoned subway, as it turned out, Cincinnati is cool. And don’t you know, ex-New Yorker and current Downtown Chicagoan that I am, I half-expect to turn into a pillar of salt for saying so.
After three years and more than 300 posts, CHICAGO CARLESS has attracted a faithful audience–and one that I much appreciate. That readership has grown larger since I relaunched the overhauled blog a few weeks ago, so I’d like to welcome you all back to my humble Internet abode by telling you about my new Best Of category where I’ve grouped the posts I think best reflect what I and my blog are all about.
Some people get in their cars and drive to clear their minds and think. Me, I put on my shoes, pick a direction, and start walking through my wondrous downtown Chicago urban neighborhood. Here’s a look at my favorite Windy City urban hikes and why I find them so special.
This entry marks the (belated) third anniversary of CHICAGO CARLESS. As is obvious, year four is getting started with a lot of changes. The most obvious are the totally re-designed layout and features of the blog. But they’re only reflections of the most important change of all: my renewed outlook on my life and the world around me. Something had to give. After 37 years, what ultimately gave was me.
This year’s Great Chicago Places and Spaces event had an incredible surprise in store for Pastry Chef Chris and me. When we joined the tour of Mag Mile’s historic Intercontinental Hotel, we never expected to be the first public group in years to get to see the onion-dome observatory. Here are the pictures to prove it!
It had to happen sometime. Last weekend, after five years of my Chicago life–and for the first time ever in his, Jose visited me in Chicago. That’s ‘joe-ZAY,’ so pronounce it right in your head when you read it. My best friend from my adult years in New York. My Portuguese connection.
My boyfriend, Chris, thinks I’ll go anywhere to eat a good meal, or even a bad one. Dating a chef, I usually don’t have far to trek. A couple of weekends ago, however, was a different story. I knew it was supposed to be a day of travel, but neither I nor my stomach knew what we were in for.
I am in love. Suddenly, astonishingly, sickeningly so. Know that first and the rest of this post goes down a lot easier for the less romantically inclined among you.
On those nights when they burn the house down at the House of Blues, we shudder in Marina City condos above. Most of us are familiar with the midnight din of emergency vehicles looming loud and coming to a halt beneath our bedroom windows.
The Friday evening IM was as unexpected as it was emphatic. Fifteen hours til Donn’s movers were coming, and he wasn’t done boxing yet. Good thing he was only moving next door. They say you learn a lot about a person when you help them move. Mostly, things you never expected to find out.