The wheels on the bus go 'round and 'round...

Ah, transit. How we hate ye. But since we all have places to go and since cars are bad for the environment and our wallets, AND since they haven't yet invented those pods to zip you around places individually, (An actual conversation- "How would they know where to go?" "Oh, they'd have certain paths." "What if you ran into someone else in your individual vehicle?" "You could link up and follow other pods." "...Like a train?"), we must take public transit. 

Some gems this week: how about the guy who got on the train and searched for his seat about a second and a half too long for the guy behind him? When the first guy sat down the other guy sat directly across from him, huffing and sighing loudly at the nerve of the former. When his ire didn't appropriately register he proceeded to lean forward and glare at the man. Blocking the aisle. Huffing and sighing. Making people huff and sigh in his direction. (It's a vicious cycle, folks. Do the words 'let it begin with me' mean anything?) I had to exit at Sedgewick- they may still be there, blocking the aisle.

Also worthy of a flick in the head; the guy wearing the messenger bag that (presumably) had his CTA touch pass in a side pocket. Instead of turning the bag to hit the sensor (or even removing it from the bag!) he attempted to back into the turnstile and wiggle his butt in the general area of the sensor. When nothing happened (except for a bit of a line that had formed) he went on to rub his back and bottom on the sensor, much like a bear scratching himself on a tree. When you've reached the point where your Easy Pass is not easy and is, in fact, making you into a reviled human being, maybe it's time to take the pass from your bag, from your wallet, and from that plastic case you keep it in. At least during rush hour. Or, if you must persevere in the name of ease, please inform us of your poorly magnetized pass so we don't wonder about the skin rash you must be fighting.

And to the man who was tailgating my bike yesterday morning- if you find that you're driving down public alleys for longer than five blocks at a time, perhaps you'd care to try the convenience of the 35mph Addison Street? Clearly you are not taking a shortcut to the Brown Line. For you are in a car. 

I'm sure I'm no transit prize either ("Why is this girl staring at me while I'm giving this man the evil eye?" "Why won't this girl on the old green bike go faster in this ridiculously wide alley?") but at least I try. I bring some much needed levity to the situation. Not at the time, of course, but later- when all the involved parties have forgotten the incident and I wrack my brain for funny things that have happened in my day.

You are welcome.

I have enough people telling me what to do, Bob.

I'd like to proclaim a moratorium on all songs about how to enjoy music, if that's okay. To me, listening to a song is kinda personal and I'd like to keep implicit directions out of my experience. For example- The Lovin' Spoonful's 'Do You Believe in Magic.' The line "...don't bother to choose/ if it's jug band music or rhythm and blues/ just go and listen..." You mean, I can just select ANYTHING? And listen to it? Nice. (On a side note, I think that the Lovin' Spoonful's best work EVER was scoring Woody Allen's 'What's Up, Tiger Lily." It was so random and wonderful. Every time the camera would cut to them even THEY would look around like, "Why are we in this film?")

Also, Bob Seger's 'Rock and Roll Never Forgets;' "Go down to the concert or the local bar/ check the local newspapers, chances are you won't have to go too far." Do I really need to be reminded of how to go about finding a show? Really now, local listings? Get off my bum, Seger.

Thirdly, (and also firmly ensconced in the 'classic rock' genre- sorry, it's just what's on my mind and consistently on my radio) 'The Doctor' by the Doobie Brothers. (And for the record, the Doobie Brothers can be added to the short list of bands I truly thought were brothers, a la the Righteouses and the Everlys. Oh, those last ones really were? Okay.) So, 'The Doctor.' "Music is the doctor/makes you feel like you want to." How gloriously vague! How basic! That's like me writing a short story called Don't You Just Love the Written Word? (It really engages the eyes!)

Don't even get me started on songwriters singing about writing and singing songs. 'Turn the Page?' Please. (Sorry Seger- I love 'Hollywood Nights'.)

And now an apology. SiteMeter lets me check the intro and exiting page that people use for my page- also search queries, if any. To all of the people who Google "Patrick Swayze" with the hopes of finding info on one of my favorite actors, I am so sorry. I wrote one post. I love him, yes, but I do not know him personally, nor do I have anything else to add on his condition or new show (it'll be awesome). Oh man, does this mean I now have TWO posts about Patrick Swayze?

This is either a heartfelt apology gone awry or a clever marketing scheme to drive up blog hits. Okay, fine, it can be both.

(Starbucks, McDonalds, how to lose weight, puppies & kittens.)

Finishing this one up in time for Law & Order...(that should have been my major.)

Yesterday P.J. and I celebrated the all-too-important and far-too-uncelebrated three month anniversary. They always say the first three months of marriage are the hardest. (Okay, no one has ever said that. It's more along the lines of "If you don't adore the bejeebers out of each other now, you're toast in fifteen years.") So, to celebrate we saw that famed love story The Mummy 3. And it was exactly what it purported to be, so we liked it. A few things in particular that I dug:

-Yetis. I would LOVE a Yeti. They are so helpful and cute!

-That move where two people join hands and simultaneously leap and kick. It seems like you'd need to talk that one through but no one in the movie ever does. I'll let you know in personal trials.

-The fact that you can say "Well, it's a long, hard trip to Shangrila" and in the next breath (and frame) say, "Well, we made it!"

To follow up the movie we went to Kaze, my super favorite restaurant (I realize I say that a lot but I mean it this time. Truly.) We had a gift certificate. It's easier to have tons of favorites that way. I'm not going into crazy detail because I do not wish for everyone to go there. Can one be possessive of a sushi joint? Yes. I WILL tell you about the dessert, though, which was a sweetened asparagus pudding with strawberry, chocolate and vanilla swirled dipping sauces- I'm pretty sure we made fools of ourselves licking the plate.

I'll end on a completely superficial note, if that's cool. (Like the rest of this post has been a dissertation on something biochemical. I can't give an example...that's how bad things are.) I was pushing the double stroller (the double-wide) down Grace at Damen when I saw one of the female bartenders from Xippo come outside. She was superbly tall and leggy with perfectly long hair. You know what I mean. The kind of gal you glance at and think "No matter what on Earth I do, I will never even look like her cousin." As we passed, however, she stopped me. She looked down at the two year-olds and then back up at me.

"I'm so sorry, I have to ask...are they yours?"

I assured her that I was the nanny and she laughed.

"Oh my God, I was gonna say...I mean, look at you! You look incredible!"

Awesome. I don't care if she thinks I look good for having recently had twins or otherwise, I look INCREDIBLE. Which just proves that no woman is happy with how she looks and is always glancing at other females in envy.

And also...God bless Core Rhythms.

Aw, don't be such a wet blanket.

Yesterday P.J. and I went to the Cubs game. Always a good time. We were able to exchange the hat he had bought me a long time ago- really cool hat, however, the one he chose was for a child's noggin. I now am in possession of a blue cap with the vintage bear face on the front. In an actual adult size. The game was quite good, especially since I had never actually seen them win. It's true. I've been to a dozen games (especially since I used to live half a block from Wrigley) and I consistently witnessed them get crushed. Lots of my friends have seen sweeping games and victorious, um, victories, but not me. I once left early when it was clear the Cubs were losing (and I had a low grade fever)- I got a call not five minutes later telling me of the INCREDIBLE play I just missed. And the subsequent win.

But not yesterday! They beat Cincinnati (P.J. was prepared to high-five me either way) and it was fun to watch. It was also fun to eat a crazy big hot dog with twelve toppings and watch a middle aged woman try to nap on her husband's shoulder. I also liked seeing him obliviously wiggle about and bounce her head with his flailing arms. And then it was fun to poke P.J. each and every time he did that, leading to P.J. to point out key facts on the game in a subtle way.

But ooh, on the way there? Yup, bike accident. Involving the one-way (western) action of Cornelia Avenue, the wrong way (eastern) direction of the Schoenys and a car who decided to hook a left and immediately park. Keely veered left, P.J. veered right (and had to stop, obviously. There was a non-moving car.) P.J.'s tire backhanded Keely's tire and she fell to the right. Her ankle stayed firmly between the bikes. Oh, the blood. And the stoic holding back of tears.

The guy in the SUV got out to see if we were okay, spurred on (I'm sure) by the fact that when I was falling P.J. turned and glared at him. P.J. felt bad about this later on, as the whole thing was clearly our fault. He said it was a knee-jerk reaction, to turn and give a "see what you've done to my wife" look.

But it all worked out. At least until after the game and we headed home. Once there, I began to get ready to meet Kat (who was AMAZING enough to drive me to Elmhurst for my orthodontics. Really, this is getting out of hand.) This included finding my Invisalign braces container, check, getting my wallet, yup, little purse for later on, okay, keys, phone...where's my phone? DID I DROP MY PHONE AT WRIGLEY? P.J., rockstar that he is, took off on his bike to retrace our route. I tore the place apart, already in a cold sweat over the fact that I'd be unable to idly check my email, Facebook and blog with one thumb. Kat showed up and helped me look but eventually we had to take off. I felt like I was abandoning a child. (Truly, it's a sickness.) Called my Mom and sisters to inform them that if someone called from my phone they should tell the caller to return it. My Mom brought up the good question about whether or not people could get into my bank accounts and credit cards from my phone. And here I was worried about my Facebook status being changed to something unsavory.

HOWEVER. I called P.J. from Kat's phone (and also sent an "I love you" text, leading into a convo between Kat and I about how funny it would be if P.J. thought the text was from Kat, like now that I've lost all forms of communication she's safe to make her move. Oh, the laughter!) And guess what? He found the phone. Wrapped in a quilt at the bottom of the bed, presumably from when I was tossing things about like a madwoman. He sounded tense. I was pretty sure he'd be gone by the time I returned from Elmhurst. I sent one more "I love you" text from Kat's phone just be safe. I either fortified our relationship or added fodder to the budding one between he and Kat.

The ortho was fine (and Kat is a rockstar driver) and we decided to grab dinner at Volo, an unbelievable wine bar in Roscoe. Why haven't we all gone there multiple times? Exceptional. We got a sparkling wine flight (fancy) and split a few small plates; a spicy steak tartare, a crab and avocado and lemon salad so intensely flavorful I need to shut my eyes for a moment, and a bacon, mushroom and goat cheese pizza on crisped something or other. And then a sour cherry turnover and a cinnamon coffee float. I might tear up. I love you, Volo.

Met up with P.J. later on, who had been at a work party. The hullabaloo over the phone was a thing of the past! Hung out with a few (twenty) of his coworkers at Boss Bar, a place that I truly can say I don't need to visit again. It was fine, but kinda overpriced. And frankly, I'm not nuts about River North. Everything in that part of downtown closes up so early except for the corporate-hangout bars. Am I gonna get in trouble for saying this? I imagine it's like saying "Eh, SoHo? Eh." Without the arts scene, of course.

And there you have it. Thursday. So now it's Friday and I'm "worked from home," which means I cleaned, organized, wrote (a little) and watched one of the best movies from my youth- The Brave Little Toaster. This is epic. Early Disney at its finest. The animation actually wiggles on the screen, like some guy is holding a camcorder to each frame. I have no idea how animation works. And Jon Lovitz as the voice of the old timey radio? That would have meant nothing to me as a seven year old, but now I'm thoroughly entertained by the idea. My favorite is still the electric blankie who sounds like a sleepy toddler. I love when they clean the house to "Tutti Frutti" by Little Richard. Whom I used to think was Lionel Richard. (Maybe a cross between Lionel Richie and the animated lion King Richard in Robin Hood. That reminds me, do you know what the best name for a stuffed lion is? Lionel Roarchie. Kate and I have a whole master list if you ever want to hear the runners up, i.e. Pandy Gibb.)

Do you wonder why I never get any work done?

P.J. came home and we had a nice dinner in our superbly clean apartment, went for a walk to get gelato at Mario & Gino's (key lime pie and apple cinnamon somethingorother) and watched- wait for it- YouTube clips of the Chipmunk Adventure, also from 1987. This cannot be a coincidence. Somehow P.J. fell asleep on the couch so I spent the rest of the night skyping with Rachel, who had recently gotten back to Harvard.

And I have the whole weekend in front of me! (I realize it's a super late post, but I really wanted to have one for every day of this work week...proving, I don't know. I have a knack for documentation? Unchecked obsessive compulsiveness? A panache for procrastination?)

Yes. Happy Saturday!