I remember sitting around a table with a group of friends from church during the holiday season several years ago, and as we took turns sharing about things that made us particularly thankful, one of the ladies at the table quickly piped up and said, ‘Color.  God is so incredible for giving us color.’

Amen, sister.

From the moment our taxi dropped us off at the Palazzo, we were both a bit overwhelmed.  The scale of everything was so much grander than what we’re used to seeing – hotel lobbies with 50-foot ceilings, huge casino floors packed with slot machines and black jack tables and ladies in tight dresses walking by with trays of cocktails, and hotel corridors that felt like they stretched on forever.  Add to that a confusing mix of sensory deprivation and sensory overload – while indoors, you typically don’t have access to daylight or fresh air, but at the same time, your senses are flooded with a myriad of sounds, with flashing lights, conditioned air, and the presence of so many people.   It was a lot to take in.  But we were bound to make the most of our Nevadan adventure, and so while Shane checked into our room, I ran across the street to the same-day discount ticket booth to see if I could score us seats for a show that evening.  I came back with tickets to Le Reve and Shane and I made our way to our beautiful hotel suite – looked like Vegas was going to be A-OK.

We spent the rest of the afternoon taking refuge from the heat inside the gigantic hotel/shopping/restaurant complex that is the Palazzo/Venetian, and then swimming at the luxurious hotel pool.

We grabbed a quick bite before the show and then made our way over to the Wynn for the show.  From the moment we walked into the theater, with its brightly patterned tented ceiling and circular rows of seats that surrounded a blue, misty pool, we knew we were in for something special.  And Le Reve certainly did not disappoint – stunning costumes, gasp-inducing acrobatics, and surprises around every corner, as people in sea-monster costumes crawled out from the aisles and ladies in sequined costumes were dropped from one hundred feet in the air into the pool below.  It was exactly what you would expect from Vegas – flashy, bold, and over-the-top.

We turned in early that night, as I was feeling a little under the weather and wanted to rest up for a day full of sight-seeing and sun-soaking.  Unfortunately, I woke up Monday morning feeling achy and feverish, with some kind of flu.  I ventured out in the morning in search of a healthy breakfast (which was nowhere to be found) and snapped a few pictures while on the Strip.  Somewhere between the canals of the Venetian and the Venus de Milo at Caesars Palace, I really started to wonder at the alternate universe that is Vegas.  There’s just so much…faux.  Everything is a replica of something else, from the miniature Eiffel Tower to the funky Corinthian columns.

My sore throat and achy bones, along with the rapidly rising temperatures (which topped out at 109 degrees that day – yikes!), soon drove me back to our room, where I contentedly spent most of the afternoon watching TV in our plush and comfy bed, deciding I had just enough energy to head down the pool and stake my claim on one of the lounge chairs in pool for a couple of hours (yes – they put lounge chairs in the really shallow portion of the pool, so you can enjoy the sun while being half-submerged in the water…brilliant!).

We had a nice dinner at Le Cave that night, and once again, I turned in early…In a city known for its nightlife.  Did I mention I wasn’t Vegas material?

By Tuesday, I was feeling much better and figured all I needed to get me back to 100% was a fruit smoothie and a couple hours of retail therapy.  I spent the morning cruising around Fashion Show Mall with my Jamba Juice in hand, scoring a couple of good deals before heading back to the hotel for an afternoon of poolside lounging.  Shane got away from the conference a little early and was able to join me for a swim.  I camped out there all afternoon with my book, working on my tan and finally feeling like I was getting on board with the whole Vegas vacation thing.  It was a great day – completely relaxing, worry-free, and self-indulgent.  Tuesday night was our last night to really live it up, since I had a Wednesday morning flight back to Seattle, and so we headed out in search of lights, luck, and liquor.  The Strip is insane at night time – people crowd the sidewalks, spilling out of the casinos and bars, lights and music seem to radiate from every surface.

Determined to take it all in, we walked as far as the Bellagio and caught the famed fountain show.  It was indeed impressive – and as a bonus, the spray from the fountains provided some momentary relief from the heat!

From there, we meandered back toward the Palazzo, stopping in a couple of casinos to test our luck.  Turns out I am decidedly unlucky.  Shane cut me off after a pretty sad streak at the slots, and then I watched him walk away from video blackjack with his shoulders slumped.  To his credit, he did make the three dollars I had in my pocket last for nearly half an hour, and he had tripled his money at one point, but apparently he has yet to learn when to quit, and so we both walked away without any of our meager gambling allowance.  We found solace at the bar of Table 10, in my glass of wine and Shane’s shot of quality bourbon.  And so all was not lost – we’d still enjoyed a fun night out on the town, and I had managed, on my last night in Vegas, to stay up past 10 pm.

The verdict:  as much I loved my afternoons by the pool, and as grateful as I am for the chance we had to experience something new, I doubt we’ll head back to Sin City anytime soon.  It’s just not our scene.  At least, not until I find the courage to replace my Gap sundress with something more like this…

The rest of the night was full of s’mores, beer, and campfire chat.  Is there any better way to spend a summer evening in the Pacific Northwest?

The fire did double duty all weekend, as both heat source and food cooker.  We roasted, toasted, grilled, and flame-broiled, at morning and at night.  Flame-toasted bagels for breakfast?  Mmmm-hmmm…

After breakfast, we headed over to the little stretch of beach near the campground for playtime.  The agenda:  frisbee-tossing, wiffle ball, rock-skipping, lounging.

Shane was thrilled to discover that his best little buddy, the G-man, is a fellow rock-skipper.

We headed back to the campsite for lunch, and then staked out a spot in a nearby field where the boys (and the athletically-inclined women) could play a game of football, while the less-inclined women could stretch out on the sidelines in the sun.  I’ll give you one guess as to which group I was in…

All that playing put us in the mood for Happy Hour and so we headed down the road for a round of super-fresh oysters at Taylor Shellfish. Sprinkled with lemon juice and paired with a glass (er…red plastic cup) of white wine, these were perfect.  One slurp and I was rethinking my long-held oyster-aversion.  Maybe it was the scenery, maybe it was the smell of salt-water wafting through the air, or maybe it was the company of such good friends, but wowsers, those were some tasty little suckers.

The rest of the evening was passed back at the campsite.  Shane spent some quality time with his other little buddy, Zebo, Jack grilled a chicken and veggie-kebob dinner that rivaled the meals we’re able to prepare at home in our fully-equipped kitchen, and we toasted marshmallows and told stories until I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer (all of that chillin’ had me tuckered out).

It seemed we were all a little reluctant to leave this morning – it was hard to coax Brian, Shane, and Nicole (that’s her feet) out of their tree-anchored cocoons (I’m adding a hammock to the REI wishlist).

We sat around the campfire talking until check-out rules required us to begrudgingly break down camp and let the fire die (but not until we’d ended  s’mores smack-down: round 3, in which Jack completely changed the game with a bacon-chocolate-marshmallow creation).

I’m washing the smoke smell out of my clothes with a sigh tonight, knowing it will be a year before we’re able to embark on another weekend like this one.  There’s some solace in knowing that I’ll shortly be drifting off to sleep in our soft, cozy bed, but there’s also quite a bit of sadness in knowing that toasted marshmallows aren’t on the menu for breakfast tomorrow…

We woke to clear, sunny skies on Saturday morning – perfect ferry weather.  We drove right onto the boat after a short wait at the terminal, and we were off!

Shane had done a little research and we had a list of a couple of things to check out on the island, starting with the Saturday Farmer’s Market. Vashon is home to several small farms, and we were looking forward to perusing the local offerings.  I bought a carton of plump raspberries and devoured them with my morning coffee, admiring the piles of leafy greens and freshly-picked beans on the other tables, then feeling our hunger spike as we eyed the cheese stand and smelled the sizzling meat at the little taco booth on the corner.  And so we crossed the street for lunch at The Hardware Store, which we’d heard is the island’s most popular restaurant.  We settled into our table by the window and eyed the appetizing fare on the table next to us – the breakfast special and the fish tacos both looked super-tasty, so we ordered them both to share.  Verdict:  yum.  The food wasn’t fancy, but it was hearty, well-prepared, and just the fuel we needed for an afternoon of sight-seeing.

My expectations of spending several hours cruising a loop around the island were slightly unrealistic, as it turns out you can drive from one tip of the island to the other in 20 minutes flat, but we did stumble upon a jem when our meandering landed us at Point Robinson on Maury Island (the baby brother to Vashon Island, connected by an isthmus).  We walked down to the pebbly beach and found a perfect piece of driftwood from which we could soak in the sun and enjoy the view of Mount Rainer.  Then Shane threw some rocks (never gets old), we checked out the itty-bitty lighthouse (took all of 15 seconds), and walked one of the short trails that took us through the lush, fern-filled forests.  I love being able to experience sunny beaches and shady woods all in the space of 30 minutes – I suppose I was destined for the Northwest.

We hopped back in the car and headed over to the other side of Maury Island – Dockton was one of the larger words on the map, so I figured that must be where the town center is located, but in the 8 seconds that it took for us drive through Dockton’s main drag, I didn’t even see a post office, so we shrugged our shoulders and headed back toward Vashon.  We pit-stopped at Vashon Coffee Roasterie for ice cream sandwiches and a cold drink on the Mayberry-esque wood porch.  I think I saw Opie walk by (then again, I may have been delusional with the atypical dose of Vitamin D I’d gotten that day…).

We passed the rest of the afternoon visiting with our friend Michelle at her grandparents’ house on the island.  Michelle’s grandpa showed us around their impressive garden, full of corn and berries and quickly-sprouting beans, and then we all sat out on the back porch and chatted over cold lemonade and fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies (seriously, her grandparents belong in the hospitality hall of fame).  Life out there seemed so peaceful, so un-rushed, so good.  Shane and I are already making retirement plans…  And honestly, who wouldn’t want to get their milk from a store that looks like this?!

Before long, it was time for us to catch our ferry back home, so we bid farewell to Michelle and to Vashon, knowing that our first visit wouldn’t be our last.  Our little “adventure” turned out to be of rather mellow proportions, but it turned out that just living the slow life island-style was still perfectly fulfilling.

It wasn’t until I started looking online for things to do near our hotel that I realized July 1st was in fact Canada Day, so we would be in the thick of the country’s annual ‘birthday’ celebration.  As soon as we got into the city, traffic slowed to a crawl, as the streets were swarming with people clad in red and white, waving their maple leaf-adorned flags as they danced to the music of any number of bands that had set up shop on the street corners.  We snaked our way to our hotel, gladly ditched our car at the parking garage, and set out in search of 1) good food, and 2) general merriment and festive-ness.  Jack and La Verne had recommended Zakkushi for dinner, a cozy little Yakitori joint just a few blocks from where we were staying.  We snagged a couple of seats at the bar and promptly began ordering to our heart’s delight – items on the menu were about two dollars apiece, and we wanted to try to try just about everything.  For the next hour, the waitress brought us plate after plate of pork-wrapped asparagus, grilled quail eggs, and miscellaneous chicken parts, paired with cold, refreshing pints of Sapporo.

Happy and well-nourished, we waddled out of the restaurant and followed the throngs of people to the waterfront in hopes of catching the big fireworks show.  We staked out a little spot at the harbor’s edge and watched bang after bang of red and white lights.  I marveled at how unknowingly perfect our timing had been in our last-minute decision to make the trip up to Vancouver – you don’t see this every night!

Post-fireworks, we headed toward Gastown to check out the Pourhouse – an allegedly ‘legit’ bar where bartenders respect and know their cocktails.  Shane was determined to verify such rumors, so we plopped ourselves on a couple of barstools and promptly ordered our fist round of drinks.  Shane was impressed with his Fernet-laced Toronto, and my Golden Fizz (gin, lemon, egg, soda water) was perfectly creamy-but-light. Verdict: this bar was indeed legit.

By the time we left Gastown, it was nearly 1 am, which is pretty late for an old married couple such as ourselves, so we cabbed it back to the hotel and fell into bed with a couple of food and drink-induced smiles on our faces.  It had been a very good night.

I was delighted to see sun shining through the curtains early the next morning – I peeked outside and took in the view of the harbor and mountains, pleased that it would be a perfect day for touring the city.

Shane threw on his running clothes and headed out for a jog around Stanley Park.  I thought about joining him for all of six seconds, and then decided instead to head back to bed for awhile – I just wasn’t quite ready to give up on my plans of a Saturday sleep-in.  Hunger eventually pulled me back out of bed, and we left the hotel mid-morning in search of breakfast.  I followed a recommendation for a good crepe place just down the street, so we grabbed a quick bite and then decided that the sunshine was calling us back toward Stanley Park.  We found a place that offered cheap bike rentals, hopped on our super-rad orange cruisers, and we were off!  It was an incredibly leisurely ride, as we stopped every few minutes to take in the scenery and snap a few photos.  Shane said it was the longest bike ride he’d been on without breaking a sweat – that’s what I’m talkin’ about…

We returned our bikes mid-afternoon and knew that we needed to take advantage of Vancouver’s culinary offerings at least one more time before hitting the road.  We settled on ramen at Motomachi Shokudo, another trusted recommendation from Jack and La V.  And wowsers – these Vancouver-ites don’t mess around when it comes to their noodle soup!  Rich, flavorful broth filled with soft-but-not-too-soft noodles and tender slices of pork.  I dont think I’ll ever be able to go back to those 25-cent packages of Top Ramen that I loved so much in college…

We ended our trip in Yaletown, for gelato and a stroll along the waterfront, then down the charming brick-lined streets.  I love this neighborhood – we’re looking forward to spending more time here next time we’re back.

And with that, it was time to hit the long dusty trail back to Seattle.  Thanks, Canada – our spirits were higher when we left than we arrived, so I’d say our little getaway was a smashing success.

After our lunch-induced caloric overload, we decided to burn off those burritos with one of our favorite pastimes:  shoe shopping.  Amanda and I have a favorite store in Modesto that we visit every time I’m home, and we can easily spend hours wandering up and down the aisles, trying on heels that we know we’ll never be able to walk in or bright pink wedge sandals that won’t match anything in our closets.  What I love most about these little shopping excursions is our ability to pinpoint exactly what the other person would like (“theses polka dot wedges are so completely you!”).  I was talking about this with Nancy the other night and she summed it up perfectly:  she said it feels really good to be known, which is what’s so special about these times with the girls – they know me in a particular way that no one in Seattle does or ever will.  Of course, there are also times when I surprise Amanda with my apparently poor taste (“oh, no, Kel, you’ve got to be joking with those”), but I love those moments, too – brutal honesty without the risk of hurt feelings is a pretty unique thing.

The rest of Friday was pretty mellow – burgers for dinner, more catching up with old friends, watching movies as I crashed out on the couch…  Saturday morning, it was time to bid farewell to Turlock and head to San Francisco for the rest of the weekend.  We were intent on catching a game, and thought it would be fun to end our trip with a night out on the town.  After checking into our hotel, we jetted over to AT&T park, stocked with peanuts and sporting our Giants gear.  It was a beautiful day to be at the ballpark, and the buzz of excitement in the air told me that I better get ready to do some serious cheering and high-fiving.  I was wrong.  Horribly wrong.  Lincecum pitched the worst game of his career, and we left the park in the middle of 8th, as the Giants were down 8 to nothing.  Ouch.  At least the sunshine was there to buoy our spirits.

He’s only smiling because he got a new hat to replace his crusty old faded one…

A short nap back at the room, and then we were ready to paint the town red.  Saturday was the 12th anniversary of our very first date, so we were in the mood to celebrate.  Shane had made reservations at Delfina, a cozy-but-hip Italian restaurant in the Mission.  We slurped up perfectly prepared spaghetti and oohed and ahhed over our tagliatelle.  I like to think that Shane will look back on that night and remember the dress I wore and conversation we had, but he has already confessed that what made the biggest impression on him was the fact that Ellen Page was sitting at a table just five feet away from us.  We didn’t approach her, but I still had to listen to his dorky one-liners from Juno all night, about his ‘hamburger phone’ and ‘food baby’.  I’ll admit, as we don’t experience too many celebrity sightings in Seattle, it was kind of a big deal.

Dinner was followed by cocktails at Wilson and Wilson, a tiny little speak-easy known for it’s intimate bar and finely crafted drinks.  The theatrics of getting to our table were a bit much (having to give a password to the fedora-wearing man at the door, and then being led through a dark bar to a door that had to be unlocked with an old key, beyond which we finally found our seats), but still, it was a fun night.  The cocktails were good, the conversation was good, and I was toasting to 12 fabulous years with a pretty incredible man.

We started Sunday with a coffee date with Brieanne, my college roommate and fellow Francophile (we were in Paris together for our fourth year of college).  It was fun to catch up, to hear about the exciting things in store for her as she expecting her first little bebe in November.  Post-coffee, Shane and I headed over to Hayes for our brunch reservations at Absinthe.  I’m not sure how Shane found this place, but O.M.G.  My french toast was the best I’ve ever had – slightly crispy around the edges, but unbelievably light and fluffy on the inside.  Sinfully good.  Shane took a bite and his eyes got really big as he exclaimed, “It’s like a taste of heaven!”

Yum-my.  But also super-filling, so after brunch, we were ready to do a little walking.  We wandered around the neighborhood, and then made our way toward the new federal building, designed by Morhposis.

I think I was so high on sunshine and french toast that I wasn’t much in the mood for architecture-gazing, so after a quick spin around the block, we headed back toward the park in front of City Hall to find a patch of grass with our name on it.  My college friend Chris came to meet us there, and the three of us camped out on the lawn for a couple of hours, chatting and soaking in the beautiful day.  It was nice to put away the busy-body, sight-seeing side of myself, and just focus on good conversation and quality relaxation.  I should try that more often.

One last stop for more sunshine-soaking at Yerba Buena, and it was time to head for home…

Au revoir, California.  Hope to see you again soon.

We heard murmurings from the fans in the seats behind us that there was a tornado and hailstorm warning in effect, but we hoped that we’d already paid our bad-weather dues at the Cubs game, so we hung tight in our seats, wanting to see if the Twins would come back from the Tigers’ early runs. Toward the third inning, the first fat raindrops started to to fall, so we headed down to take cover under an overhang. In the fourth inning, the rain really started to come down, and we really started to overheat – just when we started debated whether or not to wait it out, the decision was made for us…

We were too hot and thirsty to see how long the delay would last, so we rushed outside and took refuge from the rain in the nearest bar, thankful that at least we’d had the chance to check out the Twins’ beautiful new ballpark. The rest of the evening was really low-key, with junk food and basketball back at the room – not quite the all-star tour de Twin Cities that we’d planned on, but it was still a good day.

Wednesday morning started with breakfast at Moose and Sadie’s, a charming little cafe/bakery in the Warehouse District. We shared a sticky bun and munched on fruit and yogurt, eager to check out a little more of the city before heading up to Alexandria for our visit with Shane’s family. And wouldn’t you know it, as soon as we stood up to head out into the city, those pesky fat raindrops began to fall again. We hoped it looked worse than it actually was, but after getting thoroughly dampened in only two short blocks, we began to worry that our morning was doomed. We cursed ourselves for carrying umbrellas halfway across the country and then leaving them tucked into our suitcases back at the room. But I say, when life gives you lemons, just drink coffee, so we ducked into a nearby cafe, determined to wait out the rain with a hot latte. One on One cafe ended up being a really good find, with great coffee and an interesting vibe, as it was part cafe/part bicycle shop. We were happy to sit there for awhile, and even happier when we saw that the rains had stopped.

The rest of the morning was spent on a quick architectural tour of downtown – we checked out the library, snapped a few photos of the Warehouse District, and slowly meandered back to the hotel.

Our final stop before heading out of town was the Mill City Museum – I’d read about this old flour mill that had been converted to a modern museum dedicated to the history of the mill. The incorporation of new glass structures with remnants of crumbling stone walls and rusted steel members was beautiful – we spent awhile poking around the courtyard, snapping photos and admiring the architecture.

One last gaze at the Mighty Mississippi (which looked particularly mighty in light of recent events), and it was time to say good-bye to Minneapolis.

Looking forward to some chill time with family over the next few days – somehow all of this relaxation has me a bit worn out…

Post-lattes, we spent a little time wandering around the neighborhood – this was one of my favorite areas of Chicago, with so many beautiful old masonry buildings of different colors and patterns. I walked around in an urban daze, my eyes continually pulled upward to buildings that frame the canyon-like streets.

And I love the juxtaposition of old and new – I was thrilled when we came upon the Spertus Institute, a new building made famous by its faceted curtainwall. It’s exciting to be able to experience first-hand the architecture I’ve admired in magazines and design blogs, and I was totally enamored with this building – Shane had to go grab a seat at the nearby park while I walked back and forth at the base of the facade, wanting to understand every little angle and reflection.

The weather was good, but rain clouds hovered in the distance, so we decided to take advantage of what might be our final hour of sunshine and grab lunch at a sidewalk table at The Gage on Michigan Avenue. Our pork-intensive week had me craving vegetables, and this beautiful beet salad totally hit the spot.

Energized by our veggie-rich lunch (or was it the beer?), we headed over the Art Institute of Chicago for a serious art fix. I wasn’t sure what to expect, since I’d been a little disappointed by the previous day’s museum, but figured the trip would be worth a shot – if nothing else, I wanted to check out the renovation of the Modern Art wing, designed by one of my favorite architects. Holy. Cow. I had no idea what we were in for – the contemporary collection far exceeded my expectations with several pieces by my favorite artists. Giacometti, Dubuffet, Rauschenberg, and the list goes on. And the space was beautiful – there’s a reason they call Renzo Piano a master of light.

After a couple of hours of wandering through the galleries, we started to experience art fatigue, and so we called it a day at the museum and headed out to Millennium Park. This park might be one of my favorite things about the city – the public art is amazing (seriously, how cool is the Bean?), and the variety of spaces provide something for everyone, whether you want to people-watch at the Crown Fountain, or sit on a quiet bench, or stretch out on the lawn. Plus, the tulips are in full bloom in Chicago, allowing for these amazing little patches of color along the park’s edges.

After taking one last spin through the park, we headed back toward our hotel, stopping briefly at the Aqua Tower to snap a few photos – more architectural eye candy…

We had late-night dinner reservations and several hours to kill until then, so after resting up back at the room for awhile, we decided to take a leisurely stroll in the direction of the restaurant, figuring we could probably find a bar or two that could fill our time until 10. Our wandering landed us at The Bull and Bear, where we ordered a couple of beers and caught some of the basketball game. From there, we walked south of the river, pausing often to enjoy the city at night, in all of its lit-up glory.

A short bus-ride landed us right across the street from the restaurant, but being that we still had an hour to kill, we headed into Haymarket Brewery to grab one more drink, and see if Chicago’s microbrews had anything on our Northwest favorites. We had a good time, but I will say that I remain partial to Manny’s… Finally, the moment we’d been waiting for arrived and we headed over to The Girl and the Goat to grab our table. Shane made these reservations nearly two months ago, as this place has been making quite a buzz and can be rather hard to get into. I’m sure its fame is largely due to the fact that it was started by Top Chef Season 4 winner Stephanie Izard, but after enjoying our meal, we can confirm that its popularity is legit. The chickpea fritters melt in your mouth; the goat and veal sugo is rich and meaty, but perfectly lightened with the addition of sweet, juicy gooseberries; and the roasted pig face topped with a sunny-side egg is…unusual (Shane loved this dish, but I think jury’s still out on this one). Throw in a couple of oh-my-gosh rich desserts, and we left there with some pretty huge grins on our faces. However, I was only smiling until I realized just how sickeningly full I was – I suppose ‘too much of a good thing’ really does have some truth to it… Nonetheless, it was a meal we’ll always remember and a perfect way to end our decadent tour of Chicago.

Next up on our Midwestern vacation: 24 hours in Minneapolis!

After lunch, we took a short walk around the neighborhood, enjoying the industrial vibe of the street, with its low-rise brick buildings, topped with old wooden water towers.

From there, we took a bus over the Chicago Museum of Contemporary Art, where we spent an hour wandering through the galleries. The current Jim Nutt exhibit was not super-engaging for me, but I did come across one of my favorite Francis Bacon paintings, so the visit was well worth our time.

Post-museum, we grabbed a table at a sidewalk cafe where we could enjoy a cup of coffee and a good dose of sunshine – the weather today was perfect, almost as if making up for the drizzle we endured at the ballgame yesterday. Fueled with caffeine and Vitamin D, we made our way to Navy Pier, to catch our boat for the Chicago River architectural tour. This was the highlight of our day – totally relaxing, totally fascinating, and just a perfect way to take in the city on a sunny afternoon. I had visions of Shane and I slow dancing at the back of the boat, a la Julie Roberts and Dylan McDermott in ‘My Best Friend’s Wedding’, but apparently they discourage standing while the vessel is in motion. Hmph. Nonetheless, we saw some really beautiful buildings and learned a ton about Chicago’s history.

After our cruise, we strolled down Michigan Avenue, popping into a few stores and taking in ‘The Magnificent Mile’. Our walk landed us at the base of the John Hancock building, which Shane heard has a cool bar on the 96th floor with amazing panoramic views of the city. How incredibly convenient! And so we hopped in the elevator, snagged a couple of seats by a window, and ordered our drinks. Shane’s martini wasn’t quite up to his standards, but we were able to overlook that fact for the sake of the view.

And check out the perspective from the women’s restroom – I kid you not!

By the time we left the bar, we were hungry – our decision to skip lunch was intentional, as we knew that tonight was the night that we would set out for Chicago’s best deep-dish pizza. Shane had done extensive polling of anyone we knew who had lived in Chicago, and we settled on Lou Malnati’s as our joint. We were given a table by the window and promptly ordered their classic pizza, with sausage, cheese, and tomatoes. We hungrily dug in when it arrived, and although the deep-dish is no match for our beloved Tutta Bella thin-crust, it hit the spot. It also did us in – our plans of hitting up one more cocktail bar were dashed when I thought about how nice it would be to get back to the room, put on my stretchy pants, and veg out. And so we ended our night watching basketball from our comfy hotel bed. Yes, these are the things vacations are made of.

After the game, we grabbed a cup of tea and headed back to our room to warm up and sneak in a little nap before dinner. Dried out and refreshed, we decided to hit up Xoco – a highly reputed Mexican restaurant started by famed chef Rick Bayless. And holy carnitas, Batman, this place was delicious! My red chile short rib soup was one of the best meals I’ve had in a long time, and Shane nearly fell out of his chair over his goat barbacoa torta. Even the chips and guacamole were perfection. I give Shane major, major props for scouting out some of this city’s best eats. I married one heck of a trip planner.

After a dessert of churros and chocolate, we rolled ourselves out of the restaurant and decided to do a little walking, in hopes of settling our over-stuffed stomachs. We strolled along the river, walked through Milleneum Park, found the brightly lit Chicago sign that I’m sure every tourist (myself included, apparently) uses as a backdrop for a photo, and decided that this city is…amazing.

Shane will say that I tend to get all gushy whenever I visit a place for the first time, but seriously, this place is so rich with old and new architecture (more on that later), with neighborhood dive bars right next to uber-chic restaurants, with what feels like the perfect balance of ‘urban grit’ and modern polish. Our hour-long meander through the city was full of so many good surprises – like the famous ‘Bean’ in Millennium Park. Genius!

We ended our night with cocktails at Gilt – a dimly lit, loungy, super-classy bar a few blocks from our hotel. Ahhhhh, coffee, baseball, churros, architecture, and a bubbly nightcap…yes, life is good.