Why?

There is an interesting phenomen I'll never understand: running for 26.2 miles in one day. Today is the Chicago marathon, a day where 45,000 people gather in an anxiety-provoking crowd, and run until their lungs are ready to explode. Today was a beautiful day, but no one looked like they were enjoying the elements. I saw people limping or on the ground with ice on their knees. What about this alleged "runner's high?" I didn't see the runners high-fiving each other, or saying, "dude, I totally felt amazing after mile 17."

So my question is, why do they do this to themselves? Mike and I enjoyed the day walking around and getting a hot dog. Sure, I don't have the bragging rights of running a marathon, but I don't have a swollen knee either.

Getting in the groove

After a week in the city, I think the doggies and I got into our groove today. My very spoiled, not-at-all socialized Chihuahuas just played in the dog park with a Golden Retriever and a Dachshund! I'm the happiest mama. A few months ago they would have shivered in the corner and snapped at anyone who came close. Today they played with other dogs, and even let their owners come close.

I also got into my groove. Mike, his Chicago friends, and me went out in Lincoln Park and watched the Ohio State game. Super fun, but here's my dilemma. Our bill (picture on the left) came to $438..and 3 of us are unemployed! Our mission: find cheaper entertainment in the city.

I finally got it!

When you're out of work, it's the little things that count. Like finding out I just got my COBRA coverage (continuation of health care). I literally did a happy dance in my living room. In the old days, the happy dance would have been saved for buying a pair of cute boots. Now it's for getting discounted prescriptions.
I've been working on getting COBRA for 66 days. 66! E-mails, phone calls, being on hold for no fewer than 30 minutes, even sending a nasty letter to my former incompetent employer. Every time I called, no one seemed to know what was going on. And then my paperwork got "lost in the mail", or "eaten by a dog", I'm not sure which.
Lesson learned: When you quit a job or a job quits you, it's going to be a huge pain in the butt. Just be prepared.

I found a Target!

Now that I've found a Target near the apartment, my life is complete. Sad, but true. When I was shopping, I realized I only had about half of my list, but there weren't anymore aisles left. Then I saw that you have to go upstairs. Uh-oh, all I saw were escalators. "How am I going to get my cart upstairs?" I wondered.

Well, living in a city is certainly interesting. They have a special escalator for your carts! You line up the wheels, and put it on. It stays upright so nothing spills out. How cool is that?? Then you get on a people escalator right next to it.

Yes, the picture is shaky, because let's face it, I didn't want people seeing that I was taking a picture. I'm trying to "blend in" as a city girl. I wonder how well I'm doing.

Moving, Part III

So you know I was cranky when we were moving our stuff in. To get to the freight elevator, you have to pass the building's dry cleaner. At one point, I'm carrying 3 boxes (my max!,) and I see a woman standing in line who's clearly in my way. She's really irritating me because she's so cute with her Uggs on, and I haven't even had time to shower that day. Polite Jeannie would have said, "Excuse me." But cranky Jeannie thought, "This woman surely sees me and is just being rude." So when I walked by, I knocked her with my 3 boxes. Ran right into her. I didn't say, "Ooh, I'm sorry!" Just kept on walking.
I later saw her at the elevator and she was sweet as can be. She said, "Oh, don't you just hate moving! I did it a few weeks ago." I nervously laughed and agreed.
Second lesson in the city: Don't assume people are doing things just to irritate you. You might be overreacting.

Bitchy White Woman

When we moved in, I wanted everything to be perfect. We reserved the freight elevator for two hours starting at 4:00 p.m. We arrived at 3:55...perfect. Except when we pulled up, a moving crew was pulling into the loading dock. I ran up and yelled, "What do you think you're doing??"
He said, "Sorry ma'am, we're late, but we need to move someone out."
"Oh no!" I screamed. "We've had this elevator reserved for weeks!"
He said they would only take about 30 minutes. I yelled, "Great, then you can wait until 6 p.m. Now get out!" (Hence why I was called the bitchy white woman.)
They pulled the truck out onto the street (into the rain), but had to keep moving furniture.
So we were all working around each other. I have to say though, the movers were VERY polite. Each time I walked by, they moved out of my way and said, "Excuse me."
When they were leaving, I apologized for being so rude. They laughed and told Mike he got a "feisty one." The driver said, "Man, I'm supposed to be the scary black guy, and here I am, afraid of you!" We had a good laugh about that one.
Lesson learned: not everyone in a city is rude or out to get you.

I made it!

After shedding blood, sweat and tears, we've made it. Mike, the doggies and me are settled into our apartment 31 stories high. In the movies, you just see the glamorous side of moving into a high-rise. But let me tell you, it's a pain in your sore and sweaty butt.
You reserve an elevator for 2 hours, but everyone tries to take it. You have a loading dock reserved too, but ours was taken by another mover (who I quickly yelled at and was known as the "bitchy white lady"...more on that later). And even though there is a loading dock, you still have to walk about a block with your stuff.
So I've decided this is it. I'm living in a one-bedroom apartment for the rest of my life. Even if we have six kids, we're not moving.