three day weekend

I went with my friend Lew to Chicago on Friday afternoon, and we didn''t get back until last night. Took the train into the city and then hopped on the L (after climbing into and defrosting in the smallest Starbucks in the entire world) to go find a supposedly great thrift and antique store called Brown Elephant, but ended up getting off at a random stop because we didn't want to ride any more. We found ourselves in Lincoln Park, on the northside of Chicago, where we sat in Starbucks to figure out a plan, which resulted in calling my mother in California, who found us a cute, nice, and clean hotel called the Willows Inn, because Lincoln Park is lovely and we wanted to stay. Checked in, ate vegetarian sandwiches at a coffee shop, and Lew saw a flier for a concert at Lincoln Hall - right near us. Michael Cera's band, Heavenly Mister, was there and it was only $15.

A few taxi rides and some wardrobe creativity later we were at the Hall. (I did tip one of our taxi drivers a 100% tip - that's what happens when you pay on the credit/debit thing in a taxi and keep pressing '0' after your '1'. I meant $1.00 not $10.00, but I couldn't take it back, he looked so happy). Lew also got verbally battered into pledging $10 a month to Doctors Without Borders, an estimable organization but money she does not have. And we can't call to cancel it until Tuesday because of the three-day weekend!

Saturday was breakfast, some browsing in thrift stores, the L back to downtown via the Library. The Chicago Public Library is where I want to be married some day - not in the stacks, of course, but the Winter Garden on the 9th floor is something worth visiting. We sat up there and stared at the ceiling for a while after reading French and German - respectively - books and magazines and newspapers in the enormous Languages section on floor 7. Bought a tear-out book of watercolor paper blank postcards and a sea green STABILO pen at an art store. I wanted a big piece of beautifully printed paper for my wall, too, but couldn't afford it. We ate cinnamon pretzels on the floor of Ogilvie Station and then I fell asleep on the train home.