That's why I'm late with my post. I'm beside myself right now. And I'm a little thrown off with the time change.
Spring has sprung and everyone is going crazy. I love it. Fifty-degrees and we were all walking around yesterday like it was Death Valley. People were in shorts, drinking lemonade and cursing the heat (just kidding.) I went on a five mile walk, starting at the coffeehouse where I grabbed a large (yes large, I live in the last neighborhood where there are no Starbucks) coffee and headed east toward the Target on Roosevelt. I forgot that it was Maxwell Street market day, so I took a little rest to peruse the vast array of stolen power tools. I'm always on the lookout for a good deal on a table saw.
The U.S. Olympic Committee guys are long gone, I guess. I'm sure Mayor Daley and Chicago 2016 impressed the pants off them last week. I'm very much in the pro-Olympics camp, or I was until I realized I'm going to be 44 in 2016. That's depressing. Do you think my robot husband will want to go to watch rhythmic gymnastics? Maybe they'll have a cure for being 44 in the year 2016. Let's hope. Oh, and all that belly-aching about Chicago taxpayers being on the hook for $500 million, is whatever. Let's show the world we're not a bunch of cheap bastards!
So now I have to be weary of homeless ladies wearing bags on their feet? That Wrigleyville fire story is just awful. Those poor kids. Reading the Tribune coverage just reaffirms that news reporting wouldn't be for me. The piece mentions that the families of two of the victims (who were burnt beyond recognition) didn't want to comment because the Medical Examiner hadn't confirmed that their children were in fact, dead. Pressing people for comment in situations like that, not a fun job. I had to call the mother of a girl once who was brutally murdered and raped in the mid-80's because the guys who were convicted turned out to be innocent. I felt like an idiot asking her, "so what's your reaction?"