The Chi

One of my favorite blogs posted today about a trip to Chicago and that got me thinking about my trip to Chicago for my 27th birthday. My husband (boyfriend at the time) took me to Chicago for the weekend and it was amazing. I loved the big city feel, the people are so friendly and the deep dish pizza is to die for.


The best part of the trip (other than the Art Institute, the Museum of Natural History, staying at the Hard Rock Hotel, Michigan Avenue, and the pizza) was getting some local recommendations from a sales girl on Michigan Avenue.





I love traveling but hate being a tourist. When I told this sales girl that I was from California she recommended a French-Vietnamese restaurant and local brewery that I never would have found as a tourist. They were both so awesome. I highly recommend chatting up the sales people, waiters, hotel clerks and getting the local scoop on fun places when you travel.





I wish I could live in Chicago for a year or so. Unfortunately my career does not allow for such a move as I would have to take the Illinois bar to practice law there. At least I can dream about having a hip city loft and eating all the deep dish pizza I want. Weight watchers would be impossible in the Chi!

Someone get the ice!

I have been taking kickboxing classes at 24 hour fitness for about a month now. When I first started I could not keep up, I would pant, I couldn't follow the choreography and I just sort of flailed around tricking myself into thinking I was actually working out.

I am happy to report that I now have the choreography down, although I am still pouring sweat after a class I no longer feel like I'm going to throw up. I have only punched myself in the face on accident two or three times and I have been consistently going at least three times a week.

Today as I was doing a back kick (which are getting way higher by the way), I felt a sharp pinch in my back. I have definitely pulled, pinched, or twisted something in my back. After feeling that I was rocking the kickboxing, I am reminded that I am old and need to remember to be careful. At least I know the moves better than those skinny little high school girls in the booty shorts with stuff written on the butt.

Saturday Night

This past Saturday, my husband and I packed up the bullies and headed to San Diego for a good friend's engagement party.

Frank thoroughly enjoyed the car ride, but was upset that he had to ride in the back.

He didn't want to share a seat with Mickey.

The party was a lot of fun, the newly engaged couple had an excellent spread of Mexican food and all of my good friends were there. It was so nice to see everyone in a relaxed setting, enjoy some cocktails and a chicken burrito that consisted of diced chicken in Alfredo sauce (amazing, don't tell weight watchers on me, I went to the gym the next day.)

This picture looks just like every other picture of my husband and me. I always stand on the same side even. Sidebar: I am so happy to be blond again!

For some odd reason, whenever I am feeling a little tipsy I take a million pictures of my husband. It annoys him to no end, but I always feel the need to document his inner "gansta." Here it is:

Since we had the bullies with us, we stayed at Brady's aunt and uncle's house which is amazing. They have a saltwater pool which is the most refreshing thing ever. I got up early on Sunday to enjoy the cool morning and let the bullies play in the yard.

Frank is so stoic.

Marriage

Here is a picture of my parents on their wedding day. They have been married for about thirty three years (I think). Despite being married on Friday the 13th, they have had a long, happy (most of the time) marriage. Don't get me wrong, they have had their blowout fights as we all do, but they really know how to stick together through the tough times and enjoy the good times. I think that is the secret to a long lasting, happy marriage. That, and never cooking on a Saturday night. Oh and your having your husband take out the trash because that's boys work.


As I was writing the above paragraph, I caught myself: I said have your husband take out the trash. What if your are a wife and you have a wife? Who is going to take out the trash? I am an adamant support of gay rights, one of them being the right to marry. I believe that homosexuals, transgendered and transsexual individuals must have the right to marry, to be free from discrimination in school, employment and the military. To have all the rights that "straight" Americans enjoy. I do not see this as a religious battle, I do not carry judgment against those whose religious views conflict with my views on this issue. I only hope and pray for them that their minds be opened to realize that all individuals should be treated equally. That being said, I do not see this as a religious battle because I am speaking of rights granted to us by virtue of law and due process. I want the equal protection clause to apply equally. I want due process to actually be served. I was disheartened when proposition 8 passed, but I am confident that the right in this fight will prevail, and all who wish to do so will be able to be legally married.

So back to the question, if you are a wife and have a wife, who takes out the trash? Rock, paper, scissors. Which is actually how my husband and I decide who is going to take out the trash most of the time because even though our trash cans are right outside our house, we are both lazy and do not care to deal with trash.

Miss Mickey

Mickey was feeling unrepresented on my blog. To appease the princess here is a picture of her in her ladybug costume. As you can tell, she was really excited about this costume.

A Trip to the Fair

Last week, Brady, Stephie and I went to the Orange County Fair. I love, love, love the fair. I beg every year to go even though it is always the same as the previous year.

I love all the vibrant colors, kitschy prizes, crazy deep fried food, the animals, and of course the people watching. The fair brings together all walks of life. Although my favorite are the girls who have clearly never been to a fair and are on a date, they show up in a little white sun dress and four inch heels to go walk around the sawdust, animal droppings, dirt and such.

As he does every year, Brady tried, unsuccessfully, to win me a prize. Although he did win me two prizes in Santa Cruz the weekend before. I wasn't there, I must make him nervous when I'm standing behind him yelling "I want the biggest stuffed animal there is!"

I like to look at the rides, but not go on them. I just do not trust them and I know that I will probably lose all my fair food after one ride.

Oh fair food, how I love you, and how you hate me and weight watchers. I mean, come on, they are serving tortilla chips in dog bowls and those corn dogs are as long as my arm....heaven.

We paid a dollar to see the world's largest steer. He was large and in charge, this picture does not do him justice.

And here is a perfect example of why I need a new camera, this picture would be awesome but its so grainy because all I have is a cruddy point and shoot digital camera. Oh Nikon D40 you will be mine soon.

Pregnant goat, she looks like she's ready to get the show on the road.

Once again, fair food, curly fries drenched in cheese. Brady bought these, set them down to get napkins and returned to find an empty plate and two sisters with cheese on their chins, oops.

The only ride I will go on is the Ferris wheel and even that gives me the willies. But the view is amazing.

I opted to not post the picture of my sister doing indecent things to this cow.

After a night at the fair my dogs were barking (that sounds like fair talk right?), luckily I have a nice strong husband.