The "Things in Threes" Rule (Going Back: Sweet Home Chicago)

Things are better now. I went "away". It was necessary. I called my sister and within three days, I was standing in her apartment. A sense of calm creeping back in. There were three things. Just like there always is: a family cancer scare, an intervention and right before I was to leave town, the sudden death of my best friend's mother. (A woman who's known me since I was fifteen). All in a matter of ten days. I kept count of each incident. I said aloud to DH, "Okay, this is one." Then I'd say, "Now this is two." And just when I'd righted myself to go away and spend time back home, I received news of a sudden death. Well. That's three. 

Nothing quite like a funeral to give you perspective. No sooner had I arrived home from my sister's, I was in my car driving south to mourn, to be there for my best friend. I missed the visitation, but they would keep the viewing in place until I had arrived. It was awful. Life is short. I don't like funerals. Who does? I vow to never go to one again after every one I attend.

 Traffic stops for funerals in the south. Not just slows down. It stops. I remember my mom's funeral the same way. All these cars and complete strangers stopped and pulled over to the side of the road. Mourning with you. Giving pause. Paying respect. It's incredible. 

I grew up just outside of Chicago. The sixties and seventies: steel mills, race riots. You get the picture. I would say most of the "attitude" and not-suffering-fools part of me was shaped by my geographical lottery. Then our mother uprooted us to what is referred to in Missouri as The Bootheel. The South. Bible Belt. Rolling Ozark Mountains. Big fish in little ponds. To me, the north is all sharp edges and hard living, whereas the south is this insular, "Where did you go to high school" sort of place--but with incredible scenery, incredible tradition. As much as Chicago shaped me, so did that small bootheel town.

Away from all the hard northern-edged life was a beautiful paradise: Lake Michigan. Well. Okay, pre-EPA regulation days, Lake Michigan had its moments. Some included "swim at your own risk" restriction days. But, I digress. The home I grew up in was a two block walk to the beach. Every. Day.

 My sister and I went back to our beach while I visited her. It was a horribly windy day. (We got a free dermabrasion walking from the car to the water's edge.)     

Someone had to beg someone else to walk along the water with her!

Early spring tide washed up this tire.

My cowboy boots and me on the beach. Sister and I shot videos while we withstood the fifty mile an hour winds. They are priceless movies. 

We visited the Lincoln Park Conservatory. It is gorgeous--right off Lake Shore Drive. A beautiful oasis in the middle of chaos.

Me and sissy. (My rock.)

Then there was this moment. A little oopsie along the street brought the fire department out. Never one to miss a souvenir photo opp--this shot was for hubby.  

Chicago Street.

And then a vegan lunch! To the world famous Chicago Diner located in the Lincoln Square neighborhood. Best. Lunch. Ever. Even the non-vegans among us proclaimed this as really good grub. 

I ordered the Chicago Diner Radical Reuben, it came with sweet potato fries. Yum. The boyfriend ordered the vegan Philly Cheeze Steak and it came with a roasted red pepper soup. The meat eater was pleased. I couldn't help boasting my love of the vegan life and vegan food. Either I was really annoying or really endearing. It was hard to tell which. The food rocked.

And the girls with "Dad". This is the man I always called Dad. He adopted me when I was six. He's still as large and looming as I remember him. He treated sissy and I to lunch, then we took this picture. He looks healthy now. I was happy to see this. Yes, he does have that Tony Soprano quality to him. Always has. 

The Chicago River.

Go Cubs! Wrigley Field where I learned all a little girl could possibly learn about baseball. Dad never had a son, so the duty to keep score and attend as many games as possible at Wrigley fell to me. 

If you look closely, through the haze, you can see Chicago in the distance. That's how I remember it. 

Ahh. Back home home. 

Honey hugging me after a run. Yesterday I ran five miles. It helps. Running. My concentration is just beginning to return. Hope to get baking and cooking back on par with some semblance of normalcy I had prior to "the three things". I haven't knitted or crocheted in almost three weeks either. All the extraneous things I normally reach for to help me get through "my days" sort of fell away while the rest of life happened. I've been told this is normal. I was also told to blog. . . use the blog, write in the blog. The blog helps.