We just returned from a little trip to Chicago, and I’m still mooning over it. What a great city. First of all, it was kind of our gift to each other for our 20th ANNIVERSARY which we celebrated this month. Obviously, I was a child bride because there’s no freaking way I’m old enough to have done anything for 20 years in a row, right?!
ANYWAYYYYY, we decided to spend a week in Chicago and do touristy things and we were not disappointed. The highlights included a hotel on Michigan Avenue, a Cubs-White Sox game at Comiskey, riding the El, a rooftop lunch and a concert in the park. We did plenty of nerdy things like visit Hemingway’s birthplace and cruise down the Chicago River on an architecture tour, because nerdy is kind of our deal.
We also ate our weight in deep dish pizza and Chicago dogs.
I crossed off a major bucket list item when I dragged Dr. Rossman out to Oak Park, Illinois to see – dun, dun, dun…Frank Lloyd Wright’s home and studio. The BIRTHPLACE OF PRAIRIE STYLE and the stuff of my design-loving dreams! We took the tour, I got totally weepy and never wanted to leave those perfectly crafted walls. We then opted for the self-guided walking tour through the neighborhood…you know, with one of those recorder-things that plays information through your headphones when you get to each stop. There were about 10 FLW homes on the tour and OMG, drool. As we silently passed others wearing the telltale headphones, Dr. Rossman whispered, “You mean, there are other people like YOU?”
We bought a replica of a Midway Garden Sprite, and had it shipped to our house like responsible adults, even though I just wanted to carry it around like a baby.
Our entire decision to go to Chicago was hinged on a brief trip Dr. Rossman took a few years ago for school. He flew into Chicago, took a test, and spent a whole day wandering around the Art Institute of Chicago. He came home raving about it and vowed that he would take me back there someday. So, someday arrived and we spent about 7 hours there. We still didn’t see it all. There are so many drop-dead, gorgeous, famous pieces in there that I don’t know how any other museums have anything. I cried next to Lautrec. I melted next to VanGogh. I gushed over Degas. I took selfies with Warhol.
I couldn’t believe I was allowed in the same room with these things.
Chicago, I love you. We’ll be back.
Keep the pizza warm for us.