April 15 – April 21, 2012
Nearly a year ago, the Garfield Park Conservatory sustained extensive damage from a hail storm. If you were in Chicago, perhaps you remember your car being dinged from bumper to bumper, your eyes searching, eagerly peering through the window in an attempt to inspect the damage you knew awaited. Or, perhaps you were like me, inspecting the golf ball sized masses that had accumulated on your deck, in awe of its size and quantity. Campaigns to raise funds to replace the damaged glass littered the city for months. Shards of glass imbedded in soil, fauna and walkways. A difficult and saddening mess, to say the least. Arriving at the Conservatory, early on Sunday morning, I was unsure what awaited. Entering the main house, I look up to discover panes covering trees. If only temporary, a solution and shelter now exist.
I haven’t been here in years. Not since I moved to Chicago over 12 years ago. I almost slap myself for not attending regularly, for it is quite a magnificent treat. Despite it’s location in a not so appealing neighborhood, this gem shines brightly against the boarded up buildings and crack addicts on the corner. As I enter, the smell of dirt and plants impede my nostrils. I walk the ambling paths through Palm House and into the Fern Room observing the carefully manicured and cared for fauna. Each room bursting with color, greens and yellows. I search for the lagoon to only find it drained with a man in wading boots hosing it down. I guess it’s a cleaning day. I’m a little disappointed. I take my time, it’s not crowded, and walk slowly, occasionally sitting to enjoy and breathe the air. I am remarkably at ease. Often catching myself wondering how such a place exists within a city. I survey the area also wondering where I might stow a hammock, a hideout, to only later bask in its wonder for an evening all to myself, under the shade of palms, trumpet and Boojum trees.
April 22 – April 28, 2012
A zillion things happened this week, unfortunately none of them being a 52LC adventure. Hey, a girls gotta work. I did however make my television debut which I hope will excuse my lack of time and ambition this week. I refrained from breathing through the entire segment. I may have set a world record.
April 29 – May 5, 2012
I knew there would be a problem. Gray sky’s, clouds and cool air. All factors for an unsuccessful trip to the Sears Tower Skydeck (This Willis Tower business is just nonsense. It will always be the Sears Tower to me). I was hopeful though. I tied my shoes and walked vigorously to the train station. Standing on the platform, chilled and puzzled, I saw the fog rolling in. Shit. Still hopeful, I board the train, transfer to the brown line at Belmont and exit at Quincy. Double shit. More fog. I stand below, looking up, its peak covered. The top, not visible.
I enter the lobby, for some reason thinking my arrival will part the fog. A Skydeck employee informs me “It’s zero visibility up there today. Your tickets are good for one year.” For some reason, I’m still torn. I got up early, took the train downtown on a Saturday morning only to be disappointed. At this moment Katie enters and talks some sense into me. After a brief deliberation, with little to no success on a plan b, we decide food will help. We walk to Michigan Avenue and cozy up in a booth at The Gage. A bottle of champagne, baked dutch baby pancake, rock shrimp a la plancha? Okay. It’s only 10am, but okay. Today’s adventure was a fail, but even good things can come out of a failed attempt. I’ll be back Skydeck! I will see thee on a sunny and clear day. Until then, I will sip champagne and gorge myself. Cheers!
May 6 – May 12, 2012
Chicago Academy for the Arts 30th Anniversary Performance at the Harris Theater and A Taste for the Arts Gala! Now, this adventure may be a total cop-out considering I was required to attend. You see, this is where I work. BUT, in my defense, it was a coveted event in the city, tickets sold out! To begin, a performance of CAA students and alums at the Harris Theater, with Justin Tranter from the Semi-Precious Weapons nearly tearing the house down with his energy and charisma. I found myself on my feet, like all other patrons, as if at a real rock concert. Wait, this WAS a real rock concert. Amazing! After being wowed by my own students and our alums for over an hour, it was time to head upstairs to A Taste for the Arts!
Imagine, if you will, a room full of Chicago’s best chefs–in fact, these are Chicago’s “Top Chefs”—Rick Bayless, Stephanie Izzard, Takashi Yagihasi, Heather Terhune, to name a few, cooking up tasty delights for guests. Not to mention, you can stand at their table, speak to them and then eat their food. Now, had I been an actual guest of this event, as oppose to a worker bee, I would have made 3 turns around this room easily, inhaling all to be offered. However, since my obligations kept me busy throughout the evening, I had to have my husband grab me anything he could get his hands on. This included a space age, freeze-dried, truffle infused, crunchy mac-n-cheese from the hip chefs at Moto to a blissful shrimp type creation from Ms. Izzard, which pushed my eyelids closed and resulted in the release of satisfying moans.
To Summarize…
I’ve been busy and have found it difficult this past month to, not so much do the adventures, but to sit down and carefully craft a witty and irresistibly charming rant here for my loyal 52LC followers. Apologies. But, school is out. Summer is in. And 52LC has many exciting summer adventures planned. So, grab your suite, some sunscreen and lets get going!
Oh dear, 52LC. You were having writer’s remorse (or something) and I was just not logging on to your blog anyway. You, being You, have already apologized. Please accept this brief comment as my apology. I am sorry to have lost the thread.
However (Harrumphhhh!), one choice menu item from your sortie into the Gage intrigued, and simultaneously horrified me. Please explain: “baked dutch baby pancake”. I am well aware that the Dutch are not notoriously pro-life. But I had no idea that they had “progressed” still further, and were now happily baking their babies and popping the tender morsels into pancakes.
Years ago, when first I read Patrick O’Brian’s wonderful Aubrey-Maturin books, I was shocked to encounter a pudding called Drowned Baby. But that turned out to be just a rather sloppy Spotted Dog: a dish that I’d only got to know well when desperate hunger forced it upon me during my starving schooldays; and which, like everything else that substituted for proper food during those ghastly times, I have since avoided like the plague.
But to learn that the Dutch are now baking their unwanted babies and exporting them to cannibal restaurants in Chicago? Well, that is new indeed. Isn’t progress wonderful?