little black journal

We arrived in Minneapolis around noon on Tuesday, sad to be bidding farewell to Chicago, but excited about the next leg of our trip. We only had 24 hours in Minneapolis, and I really wanted to make the most of that time. So after lunch at a Mexican restaurant on Nicolett Mall, I…went shoe shopping. It’s true – there were probably sights I could have been seeing, museums I could have been visiting, drinks I could have been tasting, but the weather was much hotter than I’d packed for, and my feet were screaming for a pair of sandals. One strappy pair of wedges later, I did a little cafe-sitting and then was ready to take on the city. Shane and I had tickets for the Twins game that night, so we put on our lightest-weight clothing (87 degrees outside – seriously?!) and walked the two blocks to the stadium. Our seats were perched high above the outfield, so we had a great view from which to take in Target Field.

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…

If there is any truth to the phrase ‘too much of a good thing’, we tested its limits in Chicago – our final day there was full of more amazing sights, flavors, etc… We jumpstarted the day with coffee at another Intellegentsia Cafe – this one on the ground floor of the Monadnock Building. To most you, this building’s name won’t ring a bell, but for those of you that suffered through third-year architectural history with me, you’ll know that this is the tallest load-bearing masonry building in America, with masonry walls as much as six feet thick at its base. Fascinating, no?

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!

I was up early(ish) this morning to start the day at the hotel’s fitness center, knowing that we had another calorie-rich day ahead of us – and wowsers, glad I thought ahead… First on the docket was brunch at Publican, a relatively new restaurant just west of the river. From our little table in the corner of the open, airy dining room, we feasted on pecan sticky buns, asparagus frittata, and a fluffy, pork-topped omelette. When the waiter asked if we’d like to add a side of bacon, Shane nodded his head enthusiastically. Let me say, ‘thick-cut’ bacon has an entirely new meaning now – by ‘side of bacon’, I think the waiter meant ‘side of a pig’. This stuff was insane! But since we’re on vacation, and since it makes Shane smile, I won’t regret the indulgence.

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 a lazy morning (my definition of vacation includes not having to set an alarm clock), we set out in search of good coffee to fuel us for our first full day in the city. Our quest landed us at Intelligentsia, where I happily sipped through my double latte while taking a peek at Chicago’s hipster population – they were no match for Seattle’s Vivace crowd, but I suppose that’s to be expected. From there, we were bound for Wrigley Field, with tickets for a noontime Cubs v. Reds game. As we popped off the L and walked toward the ballpark, I was immediately struck by the infectious excitement that surrounds a Saturday afternoon ballgame. Ticket scalpers, peanut vendors, and hyped-up fans spilling onto the sidewalks from crowded bars told us that we had landed in the center of the action. The buzz of being surrounded by so many tried-and-true baseball fans carried me through the first few innings, despite the chill in the air and the occasional drizzle. My enthusiasm started to wane as the rain fell harder and the Reds took a 2-1 lead over the Cubs. I asked Shane how committed he was to watching the whole game, and he encouraged me to stick it out. And thank goodness I did! The Cubs came back in the 9th to win the game, and despite the fact that I am still 100 percent loyal to my SF Giants, I couldn’t help jumping out of my seat, shouting and clapping my hands, giving high-fives to the joyous fans surrounding us. It’s fun to get so unexpectedly swept up in a moment, and we left the ballpark with huge grins on our faces, unable to help ourselves from singing along in the chorus, ‘Go Cubs Go, Go Cubs Go, Hey Chicago, what do you say, The Cubs are gonna win today!’…

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.

After a busy week of tying up loose ends at work, spic-and-spanning the house (I refuse to leave for vacation knowing that I’ll have to come back to a messy kitchen…), and scouring downtown Seattle (to no avail) for a pair of cute, comfortable, city-walkin’ shoes, we boarded our plane for the windy city this afternoon and are now settled into our hotel in downtown Chicago. We’ll be here until Tuesday, and then we head up to Minnesota for a night in Minneapolis and a couple of days with Shane’s family in Alexandria. I’ve got much to look forward to over the next week, with tickets to a Cubs game, reservations at some of Chicago’s best restaurants, and plans to take a cruise down the Chicago River to check out the city’s stunning waterfront architecture. This is my first time here, and the anticipation of new sights, new art, and new cocktails is enough to make me giddy with tourist fever. We’re off to a bang-up start, as we just finished a late-night meal at the Drawing Room – intimate, classy, and man, if only I had a picture of the grin that lit up Shane’s face as he took that first bite of bacon-wrapped pork belly. I was partial to the lightly fried avocado slices, paired with my Prosecco-lemon cocktail. The evening was, in a word, decadent. Tomorrow I’ll be good and eat on the lighter side – like maybe a Wrigley Field hot dog for lunch and deep dish pizza for dinner? This is vacation, after all…

Shane and I were in the middle of our Sunday evening routine (60 minutes and an end-of-the-weekend cocktail) when the news blurb started flashing across the bottom of the screen – ‘stay tuned for an important update from President Obama regarding Osama bin Laden’. I looked over at Shane and he raised his eyebrows before darting for the laptop, ready to scour the Internet for the nation’s latest headlines. I crossed my fingers, praying that the news would be good – after the segment we’d just watched on Lara Logan’s horrific experience with sexual assault by an Egyptian mob, I didn’t know how I’d handle more heavy news. Fifteen seconds of web-surfing was all it took for Shane to give me the late-breaking report – Osama bin Laden had been killed by American troops. Hoo…ray? I would have expected to feel immediate relief from such news – I would have imagined myself clapping my hands with the sweet taste of justice being served, celebrating with anti-terrorists across America as we learned that we could finally rest easy in knowing this terrible man was no longer a threat. But I wasn’t inclined to clap, or shout from the rooftops, or even breathe a sigh of relief. I was unsettled, for reasons I couldn’t put into words. I suppose there was disappointment in knowing that despite this leader’s demise, the war on terror would still rage on, claiming more lives and perpetuating more fear and more racism and more cultural divisiveness. There was sadness in knowing that his death would not bring back the loved ones whose lives were lost in the attacks of September 11th. And ultimately, after hearing from friends that encouraged us to view the situation through the lens of a Christian American, rather than just an American, I realized the root of my uneasiness – as a follower of Christ, I am called to love my enemies, no matter the circumstance. Is there room for justice and retribution in this love? Absolutely. I’m not saying bin Laden should have been allowed to walk free; but rejoicing in another man’s death feels far from Christ-like. So instead of celebrating, I will pray for reconciliation among nations, for our country’s leaders to be richer in wisdom than in ‘intelligence’, and for a future where the atrocities of terrorism can be fought with means other than violence.

‘Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be sons of your Father in heaven.’ -Matthew 5:44

There are days when I am struck with the undeniable impulse to shop – today was one of those days, and being that I’ve been practicing great restraint since my big closet purge last month, I decided I would allow myself a little retail indulgence this afternoon.  I hit up a couple of department stores down in Southcenter, hoping to find a cute top or two to wear on our upcoming vacation.  After several unsuccessful bouts in the dressing room, I had to ask myself:  what is up with the latest fashions these days?  It’s like clothes are intentionally being made to fit the female figure poorly – to bunch up in all the wrong places, with ruffles in unfortunate locations and fabrics that either rest on your hips like a cardboard box or find that one area of your body that you’re less than thrilled about and cling to it for dear life.  We’ve all had those strike-out days in the dressing rooms – I guess today was my turn.  So I wandered over to the undergarments section, thinking I could surely find something to buy there.  And I was kind of appalled by the fact that more than half of the items in that section were designed to squeeze, push, tuck, and hide, with comfort apparently being waaaay down on the list of selling points.  So I need a push-up bra and a pair of Spanks in order to wear that stylish new top that’s really just going to make people think that I’m pregnant, anyway?  Sometimes it’s hard being a woman.  Not to get all ‘woe-is-me’ – I know that I am blessed with a closet full of perfectly wearable clothes, but seriously, it shouldn’t be that hard for me to walk into a store and find a shirt that is going to reaffirm the positive body image that I’ve worked at for years.  I deserve to feel good about myself, and I deserve to actually feel good while feeling good about myself, rather than feeling pinched and squeezed and concerned about compromised blood circulation.  But I wasn’t going to let the man get me down, so I hopped back in the car and sought solace in the aisles of DSW, knowing that you can always count on a good pair of heels to come through in a clutch.  Strike three – apparently it’s sandals season in Seattle, as evidenced by three-quarters of their inventory.  And since my toes aren’t quite ready to make their Springtime debut, I left the shoe shore empty-handed.  In the end, I drove back home with a new pair of one-size-fits-all earrings* and spent the remainder of they day in my favorite sweats.  You win some, you lose some.

(*full disclosure:  OK, I also found a pretty flattering new raincoat, but my frustration seems so much more justified if I leave that part out…)

From the minute I rolled over in bed this morning and lazily opened my eyes to the sight of sun-shiny skies, I knew today would be a good day.  And indeed it was – full of so many small and simple pleasures.  It’s amazing the joy that can come with just a little bit of warmth after a long string of chilly days.  I wore a tank top outside for the first time since I was in Florida; Shane and I got our p-patch plot underway, with cute little tomato plants, lettuce starters, and beet seeds; I watched Shane play basketball with the neighborhood boys and smiled as the big kid in him made his Spring-time debut; I traded in my Cabernet for a glass of cold, crisp Riesling; I poached an egg for the very first time and served it on top of a perfect veggie-filled risotto dish…  We wrapped up the evening with dessert and a movie with friends, and I am falling into bed tonight with just the very smallest tinge of pink on my sun-kissed cheeks.  And all feels right with the world.

The sun has finally made an appearance in Seattle - the flowers are blooming, the trees are bursting with vibrant shades of green, and extended daylight hours mean that I am no longer making the trek to and from work in the dark.  After what felt like an exceptionally long winter (although if I say that every year, are any of them really ‘exceptionally’ long?), I am thrilled by the promise of Spring in the air.  But somehow, even as Seattle sheds its misty veil and shines in all its Springtime glory, all I can think about is getting out of town.  Maybe it’s a bit of travel envy – our friends Jack and La Verne have headed off on their 2-week voyage through China; and I just sent Brian and Nicole a list of Parisian sights to see, as they’re stopping in France on their way back from Africa.  Maybe it’s restlessness, as I’ve been spending my weekends cooped up in the living room or the print studio, working on my art.  Or maybe it’s the knowledge that this time last year, I was camped out under a beach umbrella in Mexico, reading David Sedaris and drinking margaritas; and this time two years ago, we were just returning from our romp through Paris and Portugal and Spain.  Whatever the reason, I am downright antsy.  Fortunately, we are just a couple of weeks away from our trip to Chicago/Minneapolis/Alexandria (Shane’s Minnesotan hometown), and thanks to my husband the trip planner, our Midwestern vacation is looking like it will be pretty fabulous, full of delicious food, artisan cocktails, good art, plenty of baseball, and some quality time with the family.  Can’t. Hardly. Wait.  But lately, I’m dreaming of places farther and farther from home.  First it was a long Autumn weekend in New York, where we’d frolic through Central Park and dine on patios in Greenwich Village.  Then it was a few days in a cozy little cottage on the coast of Maine, where we’d bask in the Fall colors and smell the ocean air.  From there, I progressed to visions of ringing in my next birthday in Paris, where we’d drink wine at sidewalk tables in the Marais and eat Nutella crepes on the banks of the Seine.  Then Shane started talking about a desire to see St. Petersburg and southern Finland, and my head really started to spin.  It’s hard to say where our Fall trip will take us – work schedules, rising ticket prices, and other priorities might mean that we end up settling for a weekend getaway in Washington’s wine country.  But for now, I’m going to let my mind wander, and remember those dreamy evening picnics on the Seine and that afternoon I dozed on a bench in the Jardin des Plantes…

As my next art show draws nearer, I’m beginning to feel the pressure to really get things done, so I purposefully set aside this weekend to 1) get creative and 2) get organized.  I was up early Saturday morning, and after whipping up a quick batch of blueberry muffins, I threw the mixing bowl and muffin tin into the sink and cleared the counters for a different kind of mess.  Our living room and kitchen became a temporary studio, as I littered the island with trace paper and photographs, taped sketches on the wall, and queued up a string of Friends reruns on the TV.

I hardly left the house all weekend, getting out only for a coffee date with a girlfriend, a short stroll around the neighborhood to take in a breath of fresh air, and a very rushed 15-minutes-before-closing run to the art supply store for more paper.  Thank God for the row cherry blossoms around the corner from us – a walk beneath their boughs was just what I needed when I started to feel cramped and cooped up.

It is both daunting and exciting to see things starting to come together – there are moments when I feel overwhelmed with the amount of work left to do and wonder, ‘What did I get myself into?’, and there are moments when I find such fulfillment in seeing a piece take shape that I wouldn’t trade my art-making for the world.  It felt good to be focused and productive, to be completely caught up in the act of bringing weeks of doodles and sketches into something that will eventually hang on the wall as a collection.  It might have been the first time ever that having a messy kitchen didn’t bother me in the least.