It Is More than Just the Corn Dog

For those in my life who continuously ask me why I put up with Chicago's dreadful winters, I have one simple answer.

Summer.

This weekend was the epitome of why Chicagoans stay. Why we can stand it. Why we suffer through six (eight?) long months of torturously cold air, deep snow drifts, mushy melting snow, ice falling off of city buildings, wind gusts that kidnap your best new winter fuzzy hat and all other things Chicago.

Friday meant summer hours. Which is the adult equivalent to early release you had as a grade-schooler. Ha ha! The teachers have to stay late to finalize report cards?! Ha ha! I'm off to frolick in the neighborhood, pick up a huge game of kick-the-can and eat a melty snow cone on the driveway bought for a dollar from the ice cream man.

Leaving work at 3:30 on Friday meant for me, that I could wander down Michigan Avenue, leisurely window shopping (I'm on personal-spending-sabbatical since returning from Costa Rica), and hopping on the uncrowded, air conditioned bus to head north, while passing by the lake, the beach and the park, all filled with summer tourists and hookey-players.

Arriving at home, I was almost at a loss for how to spend my time. I voted for taking the book up onto the roof deck to enjoy the last few rays of sunshine before the clouds rolled in. Delightful. The breeze and the view combined made it hard to stay focused on the book's rather dry plot, but I endured.

Then it was time to grocery shop for dinner, the long slow meal I'd prepare for my adorably willing eating participant. He arrived to find me gloating about my fresh fruit purchases, only to have me hand him a Goose Island Summertime Ale (brewed right here in the best city on earth) and sit on the sofa to luxuriate in the delicious summer breeze.

Brett makes cooking fun—mostly because I am a total rookie, and when I manage to get it all finished on time, hot all at once!, served on a plate with some sense of artistic flourish, he rants and raves and licks his lips and asks for seconds and thirds and rubs his belly in satisfied bliss after the meal, stating that I was the next Julia Childs. I'd prefer Giada de Laurentiis, but I'm not picky.

Anyway, the meal was great (thanks to Liz's recipe for ranch chicken, Jill's recipe for couch potatoes and Jewel's freshest asparagus and fluffy breads), and we both marveled at my growing domesticity. Movie night with the air conditioning on, under a blanket, was the perfect way to unwind after a newly busy week (the first one back from vacation hurts a lot, to be honest).

Saturday, the sun was shining and the beach was beckoning. When I tell people I live on Lake Shore, I mean it. I literally live on the street that lines Lake Michigan, and that equals beach front. We filled a cooler with aforementioned Goose Island beer (contraband, but we brought Solo cups!) and walked to the beach. Spreading out the towels, I couldn't help but feel in awe of this amazingly situated beach—directly at the base of the city's footprint, though luckily, not in its shadow—and the people that filled it to the water's edge. Which, incidentally, was freezing. The breeze made the 83 degree temps downright lovely.

That evening I co-hosted a 30th birthday/bachelorette party for my dear friend Jill, consisting of berry vodka spritzers (from an O magazine recipe), lingerie (Hanky Pankys galore!) and great snacks. We then walked through the tree-lined streets over to Bucktown's famed six-corner intersection for a lovely meal at Francesca's Forno. We dined and dined and dined, leaving the table fully sated and a little sleepy, at 11 pm.

Heading next door, we entered The Violet Hour, a hip new bar that resembles a SoHo club with no signage, velvet curtains, crystal chandeliers and cyan leather booths. The cocktails are specialty, and you pay a premium. The highlight may be the fact that while we waited in line (all part of the strategy) to enter, we captured part of the Chicago Naked Bike Ride, an annual event that protests oil dependence and fosters positive self image. Hilarious. Put it this way—very few people look good naked on a bike. Not a good day to be a bike seat, let me tell you. It was a wonderful girls evening to celebrate a very special friend and her many 2008 milestones.

Sunday was yet another gorgeous day. Despite the "threat" of storms, the clouds held off and provided an ample breeze for our attendance at the Wells Street Art Festival, one of my favorite Chicago events. Traipsing through the tents, we were able to Ooh and Aaah at the variety of artistic talents, even buying a small piece here and there. I do think that Brett and Mark enjoyed the food tents the best, but I was happy with the entire day's selections. And, I had a corn dog. When's the last time you had a corn dog?!

Capping off a fabulous Chicago summer weekend, we walked down Michigan Avenue to the closest movie theater, and enjoyed the cool breeze of the air conditioned theater. The movie totally sucked, but the evening was great and my mood couldn't be altered by such a lame excuse for cinema. Walking home, we plotted to order some yummy dinner, which was enjoyed while watching a great TV movie with the breezes blowing in through the opened windows.

All in all, this weekend was filled with good friends, amazing weather, cultural activities, lots of walking, beach time, city time, excellent foods and great beverages.

That, my friends, is why I live here.