Team and Other Unexpected Happenings

By now you know about my love affair with Chicago. It’s really taken over my life, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. You also know that I’ve spent the better part of this year training to run around it for a little while.
Well, this may be my last post about the marathon for a while (rejoice, the mighty marathon will step off her running soapbox!) I know, as we train we become pretty insufferable and impossible to be around. So, please accept this as my formal apology. This is my last post about this, I swear! (Next, will post political rants – you know, things to unite the masses.)

Well, the point of this entry isn’t really just about the marathon, but about the things that happen while you’re running it that you never expect, and can never really plan for. Let me explain myself… and maybe it’s best I should start at the beginning. You see, I’m not much of a self-motivated person. I always need external forces to help me achieve my goals. And the best way to get me to do something is to attach other people to it. Why? Because, guilt of letting anyone down is the only way I do things. That’s exactly how I trained for this marathon. One of my co-workers at the time, Melissa, and I wanted to get back into running, so we signed up to run the Chicago Marathon with Team in Training. We thought it would be a fun way to be active and see each other outside of work. This was as far as I had planned. Everything that happened after that decision changed the course of my year – totally for the better!
The first long Saturday that Melissa and I finally made it out to, we met another girl who had gotten lost running through the unmarked path we were asked to run. (We found a kindred spirit, and we would soon learn her name – Elisabeth!) After that first week, all Melissa and I could talk about at work was our weekly meetings to gossip without interruption or fear of being overheard in the office. Laura was in the kitchen with us at the time, overheard, and we convinced her to come and run, just once! It won’t hurt! Just come out next Saturday, it’s like, 6 miles, tops! Needless to say, but our powers of persuasion are quite legendary. She couldn’t say no, she showed up, and we ran. Laura signed up, and soon after that Elisabeth realized that we all had a similar pace and running style. Soon, we were a pack of 4!

In the mean time, Melissa had gotten a new job, so Saturdays became the only assurance I would see her that week – and we had a lot of catching up to do at that point! Elisabeth, it turned out, lived really close to me, and we could start morning runs around the lake with our new buddy system! During the week, Laura and I would stay motivated at work, and do some cross-training too. Then shortly after that, Melissa was diagnosed with the evil “runner’s knee.” I love Mel, but her knee was being a little bitch! But with doctor’s orders, we were not disobeying, and Mel had to sit it out. Still, she became one of our loudest cheerleaders, and the day of the marathon showed up with bananas for us at Mile 16. How amazingly unselfish is that?! We’re sooooo an awesome team! (Mel got the “green light” to run the Nashville Half Marathon in April, and we’re already planning to go cheer for her and repay the favor.)

This was just the summer and we had already seen our fair share of action. In the mean time, Laura also got married (there’s pictures of her wedding in an earlier entry.) Elisabeth and I both had ups and downs with work, and I realized that my time at Second City had ended and started re-evaluating myself. Tons of self-discovery b.s. that we don’t need to discuss, because, let’s face it, we’re all awesome, and everything is going to be fine. Am I right? Right? No mental breakdown necessary! Anyway, we’re running, one foot in front of the other… running, focus!
The BIG day arrives, we’ve eaten what we’re supposed to eat, we’ve slept throughout the week, we set aside our outfit, and we’re ready to go! We started running and around mile 2, as it was expected, my shins started hurting – quick stretch, and we’re out! Ups and downs, and bathroom breaks happened, but everything was perfect. Alyson met us around Mile 8, and then Elisabeth’s parents were around Mile 11-12, and soon after that Mel at Mile 16, Jimmy (Laura’s husband) at Mile 17, Alyson at Mile 18 again, and Laura’s family doing the Pilsen stronghold at Mile 19. It seemed like every other mile had scored some sort of amazing support necessary to keep us from hitting the infamous “wall.” Then the unthinkable happened, that curve ball you can’t possible see coming. Laura pulled her IT band around Mile 21, no amount of stretch was helping, and Elisabeth quickly flagged down one of our TNT coaches in her discernible green shirt and purple tutu. She walked with us to the nearest Aid Station. Laura was wrapped up and iced. The doctor gave her the OK to finish the marathon, although, I think he did it out of fear that Laura would bite his head off – she can be scary determined. She had to walk it in.

Back to the beginning of our little group. Way back when we became this little pack, we promised to train, to run, and to finish TOGETHER. We used phrases like: “come hell or high water” and “through thick and thin.” Well, this was the test. One of us was not going to be able to run, walking in those last 5 miles took us 2 hours, but we crossed it together. We stuck it out, as did Abby. We plastered mustaches on, to make ourselves laugh, and people cheered us on. Laura smiled through the pain, even though at one point she had tears streaming down her face. Several times she told us she wanted us to run ahead. We didn’t, we stuck it out, TOGETHER. Cue the string quartet, the slow clap, and the Disney happy ending. It was totally “Kumbaya” and I was beaming! Not even the lack of medals at the end (yeah, they ran out) could ruin the fact that when theory became reality, we still stuck to our ideals. We’re all mushy and bffs and all, and it’s tots true!

I share this story, because I’m extremely proud of the people I have befriended along the years. I don’t take a single one for granted, and although some fall through the wayside because life does get in the way, I am always thankful for even the shortest of friendships. And it’s because they tend to show up when you need them the most, and didn’t even know it. It’s because the bonds that form when you stick by someone, show the character of that person, their integrity, their humanity. Even at my most cynical moments my faith in humanity is restored because of the people that surround me. Family and friends, they continue to impress me. My brother showed up at Miles 12 and 23, and walked the whole way to the end, in the cold, and applauded us. My friends, they stuck together, when one of us was down and never wavered, never questioned.

OK – the end! I promise no more sentimental posts for a while! Get ready for smartass, judgy Lali to make a comeback real soon!

And now for the fun picture compilation:

Injury prevention – wicked shin splints! (Notice the purple = team colors)

I also got a manicure to show my support. (Also, got a purple lipstick, but that ended up being a bad idea. It was cold, and I looked like I was entering the early stages of hypothermia.)

WE GOT OUR BIBS!! So young, so naive!

Still with that youthful exuberance… we can take on anything! (And probably over the world!)

It’s here! It started, ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod (that’s pretty much what’s going through my mind – and blocking out the terror.)

I calmed down once I saw the first sign coming down State Street. I’m remembering, and putting one foot in front of the other to fight cancer. Kicking it in the balls!

I’m running it for fun, whatever that means! So, I stopped and took pictures. Look at all of us! Mile 7 and we’re kicking ass!

We got a little crazy around Mile 22 and broke out the mustaches! Movember a little early, but rallied the troops!

OPPAN GANGNAM STYLE!! This makes the long hours seem worth it.

WIN!! This is the poster board my roommate, Alyson, made.

Friends we picked up along the way, and helped us cross the finish line. (Laura was already hurt, look at her putting on a brave face. Rock Star!)

Again – the signs made my life!! Thank you, guy.

Who cares about time? We crossed the finish line, we’re marathoners. We’re the 1%!!

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My latest venture:

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What Has Consumed My Summer and My Life

I keep having catch up phone calls with my friends – this thing about following your dreams and moving to different cities is great for the soul, but taxing on the phone time. Anyway, it’s the price we all pay in the search for happiness, and for that I am grateful my friends are in all corners of the world. (And thankful I have a place to stay in almost every continent, and more than one state!) Continue reading

Can I Touch Your Hair?

“Can I touch your hair?”

“No”, is what I should have said. Or “that’s weird.” Instead I stared blankly at her and said “sure!”

Maybe I should provide some context. I get this all the time, sometimes in different variations like “Funny, you don’t have an accent” or “both of your parents are Puerto Rican,” but they’re different questions asking the same thing.

This time it was asked by girl who walked into the bar where my friends and I were celebrating a successful Writing 6 show. She apparently knew someone at our table and joined us.

I don’t know how we got to this, but it’s one of my friend’s favorite party tricks, so I’m not surprised. He asked this girl to guess where I was from. Oh goodie, let’s pretend this will have a different outcome.

She stared at me, quite intently. I’m not sure what my face was saying, or if it was giving off any nationality vibes. And that’s when she squinted a little and said “Can I touch your hair?” What followed was probably the most awkward interaction I can imagine. I would have paid some serious money to see what my face looked like as I stretched over the long bar table over to her.

She squeezed the hair bun, and after what seemed like hours of her wheels turning as an exercise in futility, she shifted back in her bench and triumphantly announced:

“You’re Greek!”

My so-called friend smirked in delight. As if saying “HA! Once again you have been deceived!”

I politely corrected her, no – that would be Puerto Rican. I felt bad. She was so sure after her fact-based assumption. I can only imagine that comes from years of hair-texture research, it’s understandable that she was disappointed in my non-Greekness.

“Hmmm, interesting, you have Greek hair!”

Again, I should have said something, but I was stunned by the series of events. To be honest, I never really have a response for these things. I mean, what does it mean to look Puerto Rican? Or Greek for that matter? I forgot to wear my Puerto Rican flag.

I’m so sorry. I’m sorry that you couldn’t peg where I was from, or are somehow concerned that I don’t look like J.Lo, am not obsessed with spandex and lip liners.

Should I take off my nails, and my hair extensions? Should I wave my finger? Say something like “Ay esto se va a poner bien feo!” Does that make my Puerto Rican-ness more palatable and relatable? Should I be darker? Or lighter? Or have more product in my hair?

I’m being unfair. I can see your confusion. Your perception of me is not in my hair, but in how you perceive my hair should be. My perception of me is not so simple. I was raised in the island, but I am not the island. It is a part of who I am, but it is not the only defining factor of who I am.

But who knows… maybe I have it all wrong.

***

This was a story written for my “Tell Your Story” class. It’s all true – along with my deep thoughts on it.

Brian Fellows – That’s Crazy!

Summer is here! The fresh cut grass, beer, greasy food, and strong BO… how some people don’t like baseball will remain a mystery to me.

Imagine my happiness when I found out I would be going to 2 baseball games in 1 week!! The Fates were truly smiling at me, I did something right. I felt all Charlie Sheen with the winning and tiger blood. These games would also be my first White Sox games… South Siiiiiiide!

The games spanned a Wednesday and Thursday, and the two days could not have been more different. So, while they were both games of the same series at the same ball park, they were attended with completely different people and appealed to 2 very different sides of me. I worked extra hours a couple of days that week so that I could leave early on Wednesday. I met up with Kaitlin to celebrate her recent acceptance into the Second City conservatory. We decided to celebrate with an impromptu picnic at Lincoln Park (grocery quick stop at Treasure Island – best name for a grocery store ever.) It was a beautiful day… and we befriended a seagull whom we both decided to name “Peter.” Peter had a lot to say, and hung out a bit with us. He was a bit elusive, but we caught some video of him before he flew back home to his wife. They came back later, I don’t think she was very impressed with us. (Also, I’m not very smart with technology and couldn’t compress the video or reformat it to upload into the blog. I will try at a later date.)

We had veggies, chips, hummus, and brie cheese for lunch. For desert we had strawberries, assorted nuts and dark Godiva chocolate. To drink we had a nice Carbernet-Sauvignon. Oh yeah, we went all fancy on this outing! Also, that may be the reason Peter was so willing to “talk” to us!

First game, tailgate with some amazing teachers, and bleachers experience. A little drinking, and funnel cake!! I think the last time I had funnel cake was in 2000 at Hershey Park during the Red Hot Chili Peppers/Foo Fighters concert. (Yes, I remember clearly because it was the first time I ever had funnel cake. We don’t have those in PR.)

Unfortunately, it was a loss for the White Sox… but a win for the company and food.

Big thanks to Aimee for getting the tickets, and inviting me.

***

The second game was a WIN for the White Sox, and it was an outing with the work peeps. We had box seats at the Gold Coast Tickets Box seats in U.S. Cellular Field. It was a pretty sweet deal! The food and the drinks were included, and they ran the name of our company at the top of the 3rd inning, feeling important and stuff. We were, yet again, a large and loud crowd.

We were that close to home plate that this was an actual concern. It’s a funny sign.

Oh yeah, fireworks for the win… I was screaming like a little kid on 4th of July.

***

And now the reason for the title…

While it has NOTHING to do with baseball it has everything to do with the magnificence of someone I spotted while sitting in the Gold Coast Ticket area. Down below, a section away from home plate… there he was! Brian Fellows! No, not Tracy Morgan, but a man in a full safari outfit AND hat. Tell me that’s not worth a mention? He should really have his own blog entry, maybe followed by a few poems and dedications.

OK, I may have been the only one to see it, but that’s why I had to take photographic evidence! Who was going to believe such an amazing thing happened?!

Look, before you judge, or tell me this isn’t worth all the hype – let me stop you. Yes, yes it is worth it. It made me laugh, and every time I see these 3 pictures I laugh quietly and hum the Brian Fellows Safari Planet theme song to myself (which I hope you are doing now as well!) So, if just for a moment, it allows you to stop, laugh at something silly, and go about your business, I believe it’s worth it. I believe the hype and the title encapsulate what entertainment is all about. Baseball is entertainment, and live baseball is entertainment at its best. It’s not just the show on the diamond or the outfield, it’s all the characters that go watch the game too. And on this particular Thursday, on a warm June afternoon in Chicago, Brian Fellows got away from his animals for a little while to enjoy America’s favorite past time. The boys of summer are here, I wonder what’s in Brian Fellows’ conversation cloud now.

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Rincón and Beautiful Sunsets

Wedding #3… an unforgettable weekend!

Well, this one is loooong overdue, but I didn’t know where to start! How to start and explain how much these people mean to me, how cool they are, and how lucky I am to have them in my life?

Well, aside from a wonderful mini-reunion that we had, we were there for the union of Veli and Jared – be.here.now. And that we did. The atmosphere was so full of love and gorgeousness, it could be overwhelming for a cynical person like your truly. However, it was such a genuine and accepting environment that even this jaded heart had to succumb and accept the happy, heart-string pulling event. Yes, tears may have rolled down some cheeks.

For a brief story on the couple we are toasting here: A Puerto Rican girl, a New Jersey Jewish boy meet at a friend’s party and kiss, they date, they grow closer, they fall madly in love, they start sharing their dreams and their ideas for the future, the downturn in the economy proves to them the ephemeral nature of humanity and life, they pick up and move to the south, he learns how to farm, she teaches yoga, they find a calling, they begin a new life together… it’s like a Nicholas Sparks novel with no sad twists.

You should be so lucky… so, for lack of words (though it hardly happens!) here is a selection of pictures that I think piece together the mystical weekend in Rincón, PR. They are somewhat out of order, but you can see the joy oozing out of all of them. So sweet we’ll give you a toothache.

This is the entire group. Look at how pretty we look! BU class of ’05 doing it right!

Part of the girls with the bride, Velisa (in the shiny maroon dress.)

We’ve grown older, but not necessarily matured. This is one of our oldies but goodies… hair under our armpits and creepy faces. Yeah, we’re high brow.

And this is the reason everyone should have a beach side wedding…

This is the best part of friends… don’t see them for a year, still willing to be crazy with you.

Make up was still intact… this is the beginning of the evening. They had “Rum Punch,” which is code for “death to Lali.”

Yeah, not even London can stop us!

Oh, and each villa at the Horned Dorset had a private pool? They did.

The bridal party in lovely shades of blue.

The groom, Jared. (I’m High on Cooking)

And the beautiful bride, Velisa.

Mazel Tov!

Aw yeah, it just got real!

Gratuitous beach bunny shots!

Best photo bomb ever! (Courtesy of Stef.)

And we partied like rock stars…

I absolutely adore this shot!

The Breakfast Club

Can music save your mortal soul?

And now that we know, the world will never be the same with “Chester the Molester”

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The Reluctant Vegetarian

If you know me, you know I love bacon. Not just a little… if I were a pig I would have a hard time not eating myself.

But, alas, my love affair with bacon was torrid at best, so, when 3 years ago I got sick  I had to end it abruptly and try to find a new happy place. What happened, you ask?

Well, I might as well share the story. The story begins more than 3 years ago, back when I was 11 and starting my 7th grade year. Some of my friends and I decided that we wanted to go all Greenpeace and save all the little, furry creatures on the face of the Earth. While they all backed out the second our school cafeteria served “canoas” (delicious sweet plantain concoctions with ground beef, marinara, and cheese that look like a canoe) I tried to stay strong and had a grilled cheese. Then, I was told by both one of those friends AND my mother that I wouldn’t last more than a couple of months and that it was just a phase. Well, if they didn’t know then, they were about to find out. I am a very stubborn individual, to a fault, really. To my own fault.

Cut to 7 years after that. I’d had it. I wanted chicken BBQ, pulled pork, filet Mignon… bacon. So, I cut all ties with my vegetarian self and started eating meat. (It was slightly prompted by visits to nutritionists and an alarming low level of iron.) Just like that, I was eating animals again. I took the “it’s the circle of life” approach.

Yet again, life had other plans. A few years after my omnivore change I got very sick and had to enter a very strict diet. Slowly, I was able to start adding items to my diet. Much to my chagrin, animals are still not on the list of nutrients my stomach is allowing me to ingest. One nutritionist told me that it could be my own body rejecting it from the early developmental years in which I deprived myself of meat. Another nutritionist said these things happen and I may be able to eat it again. Either way, I have no one to blame… well, maybe I can blame my mom a little*… firstly, for telling me not to, and secondly, for indulging me and making me separate “vegetarian-friendly” meals.

(*not really, she’s an AMAZING woman!)

Now I spend my nights and days trolling the Inter-webs in the search for the perfect vegetarian recipe that will  not leave me hungry, have enough protein,  and doesn’t rely to heavily on cheese. Believe it or not, just becoming a vegetarian doesn’t mean automatic weight-loss. Well, not if you really enjoy cheese, and could easily substitute it for anything.

In this continued effort to expand my palate, I bought Brussels Sprouts, broke out the tofu, and tried to make something resembling a full meal out of it. While it may not make you jump out of your chair in excitement (I get it, a sirloin steak would put this to shame, you don’t have to be a jerk about it) it was enough to make me feel full, and it was quite “meaty” for lack of a better word.

Adulthood: coming to terms with our limitations, embracing them, and searching for options.

Brussel Sprouts – Cut in halves

Adding Tofu for protein, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and raw almonds.

The final (edible) product.

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Aesthetics Matter

Admit it, you judge. (Even if it’s a little, you judge.) Which is why aesthetics definitely matter.

Anyone who tells you otherwise is lying to you and themselves. I’m not saying that you have to be god’s gift to eyesight, nor am I promoting vapid and superficial behavior. My argument stands on the fact that how we take care of ourselves speaks volumes on how we want to be perceived. We grew up being told by our parents not to care about what other people thought or said about us. While I generally agree with this statement, as I entered the workforce I got a completely different message: “dress for the job you’d like to have.” So, quite a conundrum… but not really. The message is: find who you are, independently from what anybody else wants to categorize you as, and then portray that image. It all starts from within, it’s all an internal struggle to figure out who we are. In the end, most of the things we spend our lives trying to figure out are clearly displayed for everyone else to see in the way we dress, smell, apply make up, and look in general.

Which is why I’ve decided to decicate an entry to the superficial, the aesthetics of morning rituals.

I love make up, I love perfumes, and I love products. I am unapologetically a girl when it comes to all of this. Call me high-maintenance… I don’t care.  Just don’t call me selfish, because I’m going to share my beauty finds with you now.

I have developed a new obsession with the Stila in the Garden palate.

Stila in the Garden – Eye Shadow

The outcome: A light color, spring ready look. Did I mention that the eyeliner is water resistant? It washes out easily, but with the wind gusts in Chicago it’s perfect! Doesn’t smudge and stays in place. I was addicted to black eyeliner, and I love a good cat-eye, so this was quite surprising… but in a good way.

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Continue reading

Easter Sunday, Brunch, and Other Uncharted Waters

EASTER!

Well, growing up Catholic meant that after a couple of days of no T.V., no fun music, no candies,  no snacks, no nothing that ever made you happy, you overdosed on a single day… and then proceed to live life as you did before Lent. Oh, and you’re doing this in the name of Jesus Christ, so guilt trips in full swing. This is only a preamble so that you may understand the grave importance that this day has in my life no matter how much I rationalize its insignificance in the grand-scheme of life. (Also note, I gave up cheese and beer for Lent… I ate a lot of cheese on Sunday.)

Yeah, I make a big deal out of Easter. Although, I must admit it’s mostly for the fashion. It’s a huge hoopla, with the hats, the dresses, the men wearing their pastel-bests, and the subdued hues… they tug at my heartstrings. I just can’t help myself! American Easters are also quite a novelty for me. We go all out in PR too, but as long as I can remember this is what my Easters looked like:

Back in the day, my mom would always take us to the beach house at Palmas del Mar in Humacao, PR. It made the bunny and his candy quite superfluous at a certain point in my childhood. It also made religion fun… I mean, it allowed me a week of sitting and watching this.

My lovely mother sent me this picture on Easter afternoon so that I may never forget what I was missing out on, and how much she misses me. I miss you too… and the sunsets.

But I digress (this happens often)… back to the story at hand. Traditions change, and making new ones is just as exciting as following the old ones. So, brunch among friends and expanding horizons is thrilling and uncharted waters. I also went to my first non-Catholic service. I know, tons of first. Not as big of a deal as I’m making it sound, but it’s fun to muse the historical consequences of a Catholic in a Protestant setting. Yes, I nerded out to religious history on Easter. I’ve been to synagogues, and Jewish weddings, but I expected the difference, I knew that I would sit, listen, and learn. This was slightly different. These are the kinds of thoughts that keep me entertained during long hours of services, this wouldn’t have happened in previous centuries, Martin Luther and his thesis, the printing press, the proliferation of the written word, the English crown, France, Spain, Europe’s turmoil in general, and all the crowned kings and queens that made decisions that would shape generations to come… the very foundation of this hemisphere.

OK, back to planet Earth… as I sat through the service I saw how little there really was of a difference. Well, except that they allow women to be preachers. Go figure! In this century? Sooo off-putting. (*Please note sarcasm!*)

Well, as always, my thoughts get the better of me, and I tend to get long winded (it’s exhausting to be in my brain.) So, lets dull it down a bit and look at pretty pics!

*CHICAGO*



The roommies get decked out. My dress was an absolute find at Lu Lu’s Vintage Jewelry & Clothing in Chicago. I love this boutique, makes me feel like I’m in a French boudoir, complete with dog.

I must point out Alyson’s adorable outfit, paired with a Polish designer’s fascinator, nude patent leather pumps, and insane calf muscle definition. You can follow her blog here: Eat Little Sleep Well and cheer her on!

This was the line (one of the sides) around Fourth Presbyterian Church on Delaware and Michigan (Water Tower.) They were handing out hot cider to keep everyone warm and cozy during the chilly windy wait.

Funny story at our expense: While Micki (Alyson’s mom), Alyson and I waiting we kept looking at this man across the street in front of the Four Seasons. We kept talking about how amazingly still the mime-man stayed. Oh, he would put Marcel Marceau to shame. Well, joke was definitely on us… it’s a statue. Very realistic, and I wondered if any cabs ever stopped to pick him up confusing him the same way we did it. Look, it was 8:30AM on a Sunday morning… ungodly early, and we were barely awake.

Brunch begins at Bistro Margot in Old Town.

First Course: Brie Puff with a Balsamic Reduction and Candied Walnuts.

Second Course: Veggie and Cheese Quiche with Mixed Greens.

Here I am with Alyson’s mom, Micki. We both made the excellent decision of ordering the bread pudding.


MMMmmmmmmmmm.

***

After eating our weight in cheese and bread, we thought it would be most wise to go for an afternoon stroll. Well, it was either that or enter a food coma. We chose the walk. It was also too beautiful outside to

Cailloux was very excited about the walk. Just before I snapped this picture she was nose-deep in the tulips – she stopped to smell the flowers.

There was absolutely no cloud in the sky on Easter Sunday. It was such a pleasant walk, but it tired us out. I think I need another vacation to rest from all the eating and excitement.

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*All puns are intended.

The Things You Do To Me, Spring

Blame it on the sudden furor of Pinterest or the many shows on HGTV my mother made me watch (that’s right it always goes back to blaming the parents) but my subconscious has suddenly re-awakened my need for DIY projects.

Most of the blame might actually fall on the lovely sunny days we’ve had in Chicago, and the fact that Alyson and I live in a garden level apartment. That’s right, the change in the air has made me… optimistic and bright! Ugh, Pollyanna is unleashed again! I spent an hour an a half at Home Depot choosing colors, flowers, and other DIY necessities. (I could’ve spent more time, but I was hungry, and I calculated how much money I was actually about to spend. I am no longer aloud inside Home Depot without supervision… same thing happened with Sephora, Blick, and Staples/Office Depot.)

Some of my Home Depot loot.

Funny story: Back hurts miserably because we found out that the tree is all shallow roots followed by a pretty sweet layer of stone. Can’t dig very deep… flowers ended up in outdoor pots. Hands got dirty, job well done. (I’m only showing the pretty pics on the blog, though – I don’t sweat. Or there’s no evidence of it, at least.)

I also got some flowers for inside the apartment. I got really into “The Secret Garden” when I was young and have been unable to shake off the fascination with English gardens.

AH, darn literature (*shaking fist in the air*)

After shopping, cleaning, planning, and planting I cooked myself a nice lunch. Well-deserved, may I add, and with those gorgeous flowers for a lovely background. How can you not be happy with flowers?

Ah, painting the bedroom. That will be left for the upcoming week… there are other pressing matters coming up this weekend like eating cheese and drinking beer (both of which I gave up for Lent.) I’m such a bad Catholic this is the time I choose to make up for it – or it’s when the guilt kicks in, whichever comes first.

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After the back breaking manual labor of the last 2 days (we really took “spring cleaning” seriously) I woke up today for an extra personal training with Monique and Mike. I agreed to it, totally my fault, by the way. So, up early on a Saturday morning, Mike decided the nice weather meant we should do a little boot camp-style section in the kids section of the park. I. Will. Never. Look. At. A. Kids. Park. The. Same. Way. EVER! I’m in pain, I better be gaining a lot – and not in pounds! It all comes back to maintaining weight, food, and wedding parties, doesn’t it? Oh well,I guess there are worse things in life.

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Doggie Post!

No! Sit. Sit. Sit. Sit. Sit! SIIIIIIIIIIIT!!!!! Wait. Sit. Down. Down. Sit. Wait. Wait. Can you wait? No!

And that’s how the conversations with Cailloux go almost every day. Tired of the monosyllabic, boring and often ignored conversations and commands Alyson and I decided to enroll them in doggie training. Which ended up being more human training for the four-legged companion.

So far, we’ve learned how not to repeat commands and when in doubt, give them a treat! We’ll have to measure the amount of treats against her meals… I don’t want her losing her girlish figure!

Cailloux paying attention in class.

Dottie finally sat.

The training classes have been great. We enrolled them at Tucker Pups in the West Loop. It means we have to drive there, which is yet a new challenge for Cailloux. She’s getting better, but I think Dottie helps her. Dottie loves freaking car rides – she jumps everywhere, including in front of the steering wheel. Well, we’ll take each challenge separately.

Cailloux knows the “sit” and “down” command, we’re working on her “wait” skills… apparently the hardest to master. But when she does get it: TREAT! So simple, isn’t it?

Here she is at the park, sitting and waiting:

How could you not love that face?!

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