Gravel...

This is a baby deer I saw just before finishing the eventful Labor Day bike trip. It was a really sweet ending to a not-terrible-but-still-sorta-foiled plan.

I did too much this weekend, and now I am sick. Maybe it's allergies; I have heard there is something treacherous in the air but I'm not sure — this is really bad. I can't talk or go for a full 10 minutes without coughing, blowing my nose, or sneezing, and I've got that pretty watery eyes, dry lips, and always about to drool thing going on, too. Looking lovely is especially easy today with my trademark chin cold sore. Nice.

On Friday, I ran, swam, and worked for a few hours (we technically had the day off, but that never works for me). Then at night, I went to see Anders Parker (used to call himself Varnaline) in an early show at Schubas (very few people attended - I felt bad) but it was a good show. I got in free but I bought his last CD, so: no guilt. And the record is lovely.


Next, I went to the late birthday celebration for E., above, who had some deal at the bar where we had gone a coupla months ago for a play and karaoke. It was fun - his friends are super nice, and the place was odd in a good way, but I quickly hit my three-drink limit (I forgot the name of the delicious drink I had - it tasted like a Jolly Rancher) and headed for home on my bike. On the way, S. called from the Abbey pub where she was hanging with a visiting friend (the one I wanted to make out with after Pitchfork) but he was really busy, and no one was talking to each other, so I watched the end of the Stereo Total show (and loved it! WHY have I never seen them live before?!) and then left. I was zonked. Lois needed a walk.

The next morning, I went to the farmer's market and then had my last, fabulous swim at the park district pool until September 24. They're closing for cleaning, and I'm hoping I survive... I'll have to figure out an interim plan.

Then it was time for the Lynda Barry "Writing the Unthinkable" workshop, which was SO. KICK. ASS.! It's my second time doing it, and this time was just as mind-blowing in different and the same ways as the first. It is amazing. I encourage every single person who might happen upon this crazy blog to TAKE THE WORKSHOP when it comes to your town. You will not be sorry. It will be held again in Chicago in January, and you can sleep on my couch for it.


That night, Hedley and Lois got together at the park for a while, and then I went to see M.'s new place and was struck by a) his excellent taste and b) the fact that I haven't seen him in a really long time and I was actually nervous and awkward around him. I was only there for 2 minutes, to drop off a little housewarming basket, but it felt just filled with weirdness. I don't know him super well in real life, I guess. And he is really handsome. It might be hard to be friends with someone so hot. Then, P. (in town from New York for a wedding! Yea!) and I had dinner and caught up. It was SO great. It's fine to talk on the phone and email, but there is nothing like the in-person hangout with an old friend.

The next day was day 2 of the workshop, so in the morning I took Lois for a LONG walk and made a blueberry pie for R.'s barbecue that night. That was fun, but mellow. I had to bathe Lois (always a pain in the ass) because she rolled in somethin' stinky, but now she is super soft.

At the barbecue, R. and L., above, and I planned our 37-mile bike ride the next day, along the North Branch Trail of the Chicago River to the Botanic Garden. The picture above is after our picnic when we got there. Don't they look great? Below, at the garden, R. talks to his girlfriend the mallard at the waterfall. I don't know what they were saying.


Well, the ride itself was great even though the dumb forest preserve decided to tear up the paved path for about 1/3 of the mileage - so we rode a lot on bad gravel (which terrifies me from a childhood trauma). One point was totally impassable, so we had to reroute on the street. But we made it. The tragedy came on the way back, after our Ice Cream truck stop (thank god), when I heard "Fssssssssst!" and L. shouted from behind me, "Poptart! You're FLAT!" and that was it. She and I walked about 3 or 4 miles (but who's counting) and R. rode ahead to get the car and we met at about 7 miles in and drove home. I guess my fear of gravel is somewhat vindicated, but jeez. Next time I gotta pack the right equipment.


Remarkably, it was still fun. R. and L. are great, and we made a good team. I love the picture of R., below, because he's known to not always be a Happy Boy. I think he was yesterday.