Summertime challenges me.
By nature, I am a homebody.
But every week the Tribune, Sun Times, Time Out Chicago, Chicagoist and the Red Eye point me to things I should be participating in. There are concerts, comedy conventions, festivals, literary art shows, and baseball calling me outside. This is on top of the theater, bar shows, museums and art exhibits that lure me inside. Restaurants trot out summer fare, open sidewalk cafes, and invent summer cocktails. I want to be everywhere. Generally, I am home, sweet home.
Chicago is overstuffed in the summer.
The highways are clogged with out of towners wishing to experience Heaven on the Lake. There is no parking.
Roads are pocked with repair. Streets are closed for neighborhood celebrations. Bicycles are ubiquitous in the right hand lane, making right turns a particular hazard.
Still, the past weeks found me sampling Cirque de Shanghai at Navy Pier and the subsequent fireworks show. I caught Steve’s show at Park West. I sampled the pop up cafe, City Porch on the pier (and declare it to be wonderful.) I sweated my way through the Old Town Art Fair, and visited Rib fest. I loved every bit of it.
Yet I am just as content watering my flowers and reading in the yard. I’m pretty sure this makes me a slacker. And I am positive that in time, this ennui would make me dull. Um, duller.
So I will heed the call to get out more. Intrepid Grandma Janet heads to the city tomorrow. To babysit Henry. I have bought a simple stroller to push toward Division Street. Look out Chicago: I am on my way.
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