This time, to their horror, dogs don't count.
Anyway the first step was the most daunting because it required that I drive my elderly Van through Chicago (not the Loop part) by myself. Here I am, a thousand years old and I have never done it before. But I did. I got a google map and I followed it and one thing about Chicago is that they damn well have good signs and if you follow the instructions, and read the signs, you will be good.
My friend Susan Spinhirne spent years teaching me to drive the tollways and now I don't even think about it. So I figured the same rules apply: take a deep breath, have gasoline, adjust your mirrors and don't screw around.
And until I actually got off the road into Oak Park I was fine, and then of course I must have turned left instead of right and Boom! I was lost. Not really. Turned around and I knew it but I called and my daughter got me turned back, and I got there. I did it.
And I had a wonderful time. I hope she had as good a time as I did.
This was a girl's day out.
We went to eat at a Cafe called Winberries. We left her husband home with their two dogs and had pita chips with warm artichoke dip, onions and tomatoes, and I had a huge burger with so much melted Monterey Jack cheese that it slid out of the bun.
I had good white wine, she had a mixed Brazilian drink I cannot remember but it was not a Mojito. And it had RUM, enough to taste clearly.
And we talked and talked and talked and talked.
And then we walked. Oak Park is where Hemingway was from, and where Frank Lloyd Wright worked and played and it is full of FLWright houses. We did not go there, but went to the little shops, the Fair Trade, the two stores that sell dog stuff.The bead store of course. Antique stores, boutiques, paper stores, and a totally terrifying place called "Sugar-Fixe" which is exactly what it sounds like. I did not buy a thing, but could feel my fat quivering with anticipation as soon as I walked in the door. Caramel-filled brownies three inches high: Creme Brulee cookies. Inch and a half big cookies that you knew would melt in your mouth quite literally. Scones...you get the picture.
At one of the dog stores I talked awhile to one of the owners about Nigel. I am trying to learn more about handling his bladder stones but her answers were good but not really answers: that's ok. They were lovely people who cook dog food and sell it, and the smells in the shop were as wonderful as any restaurant.
(Who is wonderful, too.)
Then we headed back and after a short respite I headed home. Traffic was light, I knew the way, it was great. Except I was dying of thirst. (You don't pull off the Dan Ryan to get a drink of water.)
And when I got home, John said the dogs would not settle all day, that Nigel would not stay in one spot, that Llewis would not stay in the house, that Conley was Conley only more so than usual. After I had been home about an hour, everyone was asleep. Including John, in his chair.
It was a lovely day.
