Keely's Best Weekend Ever (AKA Who's Paying For All These Sitters?)

So here's what's happened since we last spoke...

An Awesome Weekend

('cause yeah, I'm totally channeling college and pretending that Thursday is "the weekend"):

I met up with a bunch o' bloggy pals on Thursday (although not nearly enough- it was sadly but a mere cross-section of the girls with whom I wanted to dine and shriek and hold hands)...

Even though we were seated at a table for 20, Kristin and I pretended to be on a super romantic date.
Which entails feeding each other truffle fries. Obviously.

And I hugged Jennie- but not nearly for long enough. (Gal made it here from France!)

Also at this fabulous dinner were Arnebya, Deb, and Kristen...and they're all too cool for school.
And taller than me.

And this lady and I couldn't stop high-fiving each other and laughing like loons.

On Friday, I went to our darling friends' KT and Nate's rehearsal dinner...and was on a date with this guy...

Cheer up, buddy.
Seriously, it's a good thing I am currently With Child,
because this kid was giving me ridiculous Baby Feelings.

Saturday brought a stunning wedding, a radiant bride and groom, and at least one unexpected photo op:

It's kinda like a prom photo. Sitting down. Looking in opposite directions.
And someone on the date is pregnant. Otherwise- uncanny.

And P.J. and his pals (all the way from high school through college) performed a song.
By the Backstreet Boys. Maybe "performed" isn't strong enough. Try "emoted."
Again, to the Backstreet Boys.

Since it isn't possible to wish you this kind of week (because they don't come along all that often), I'll just go ahead and hope that your week includes dancing and laughter and incredible food and divine friends.

And hopefully a Backstreet Boys song. 

Best Friends You Haven't Yet Met.

In seventh grade, I had a pen pal who lived in Colorado. Through our respective English classes, we wrote weekly letters to each others' schools: What's your town like? Do you play any sports? Isn't my English teacher the best? (In case the letters were being monitored.) After school let out for the summer, we decided to keep writing- after all, this was pre-email (well, all but the most basic and expensive email, that is) and, growing up in Massachusetts, how else was I gonna find out about such glamorous, far-flung locations like Colorado? Even though we didn't meet in person until high school, I had already decided that he was one of the most awesome people I would ever know.

And in Freshman year of high school, I was introduced to what longtime readers of this blog know as the very geeky, very awesome text-based roleplaying adventure/magic/kill 'em online game, the one with which I'd be obsessed for [what my college pals would tell me was] way too long. During my stint with this game, I met a guy- a kid, really- who lived in Illinois. He was just so nice and so cool and, even though my mother had a (not-so-quiet) suspicion that he was a 60 year-old axe murderer masquerading as a high school junior, I was pretty sure that this dude would always be one of my best friends. (It was reinforced, too, when he came to visit my college while I worked admissions. He wanted to see if enrolling would be a good fit for him, too. It wasn't. Waaay too many hippies.)

And tonight, I get to meet even more of these stranger/BFF amalgamations.

When I became a blogger, I met and re-connected with a lot of great people; frequent readers, friends with whom I'd lost touch, and other bloggers. There's something kind of special (and intriguing) about scrolling though the details of someone else's life- and it's even cooler when you yourself are a blogger as well. I now have a wonderful group of gal pal bloggers who know my kids' milestones. My anniversary plans (and subsequent derailments). And why I have a terrible, awful fear of rats. I count these folks among some of my closest friends- especially since I keep up with their comings and goings (and vice versa) more than my high school and college besties. (Note to high school and college besties: Start a blog. For seriously. It will all but eradicate that late night I Haven't Returned Her Call Yet She's Gonna Think I Haaate Her guilt.)

So yeah, I have a trend of forming lifelong friendships with people, distance notwithstanding. Face-to-face chats notwithstanding. (And super-early-advent-of-the-internet notwithstanding. If you think it's easy to maintain a friendship during the age of dollar a minute dial up, well then, friend- you don't know what's what.)

And these relationships hold up. Besides meeting some of these fabulous bloggers tonight, there are already plans in the works for future writing workshops n' retreats n' glorified slumber parties.

And that guy pal from Illinois? He's easily one of my best friends and, just shy of two years ago, became Susannah's godfather.

And as for my first pen pal, he's still quite the awesome guy. But you know who else is awesome? His beyond-terrific wife, whom I also count as a close pal and who also happens to be a wonderful blogger. (And whom I've also yet to meet. YET.) Just goes to show: people who are supposed to know each other always find a way to know each other.

Also? God bless the internet.

Keely Goes Into Sugar Shock At The Windy City Soiree.

A warning: not since my wedding album has there been such a compilation of photos featuring mainly ME. However, yesterday's Windy City Soiree at Chicago's divine Water Tower Place (hosted by the equally divine ChicagonistaLIVE Show) was so supra-awesome fun (and required a good deal of selfies), that I decided to post some of my favorites. 

One of the "missions" involved stopping by Express and trying on our faves.
Whilst pregnant, oversized sunglasses are always a nice n' safe bet. 

This is the face of a girl who covets a skinny-topped li'l Free People dress.

Strawberry shake from MBurger. It made me forget that nothing had fit me at Express.

My editors, Betsy and Kristin, from The Little Style File at the fashion show!

After my gait analysis at S.A. Elite, I tried for a "serious athlete" face.
I think I ended up with "seriously sad."

This is the prize-winning photo at Candyality. No, really, I won a backpack full
of candy and swag because of my natural I LOVE CANDY face.
(Stay in school, kids, stay in school.)

Pose with some high heels at Akira Shoes? Uh, OKIE DOKIE!

Another mission included photobombing with a steamed bun cut-out from Wow Bao.
The least likely placed I expected to find a pork bun? An athletic store.
Well played, pork bun, well played.

So I think we all know the moral of the story, here. Everyone should be a blogger. It is, quite honestly, the funnest job in the history of fun.

Okay, maybe we still need a few doctors and scientists. A third of you? Study those things.

I'll see the rest of you at the candy store.

The Way To A Girl's Heart Is Through Her Neighborhood Eateries.

Occasionally, I get the urge to move. Somewhere else. Anywhere else. The far reaches of the country, the edge of the forest, smack dab in the center of small town America (with a three-color gingerbread Victorian). Away from the nonstop noise, away from the screechy (and drunken) neighbors, away from the Good Lord, change your a/c filter, you're blowing rancid air right into our shared walkway/my nasal passages.

But then I have a weekend like this past one. Which starred, namely, the food of my oft-condemned 'hood.

There were the sweet cherry tomatoes, abundant raspberries, and rampant mint of my backyard- picked by some pretty cute li'l blonde farmhands.

There was the takeout barbecue joint that recently moved in three blocks down the road. (Chicago pals, if you haven't tried Small's Smoke Shack, go there. Run there. Say hi to me there. Because I'll be there.) Between the brisket and the pulled pork and the fried chicken and grilled elotes and copious dipping sauces (comprised of garlic mayo and bacon mustard and banana ketchup), we didn't say a word to each other during the meal- except for "Have you tried this yet?" and "Are you eating garlic mayo with a spoon?"

And there was the leftover duck cassoulet (from Chalkboard!) handed to me by a pal who stopped over after a celebratory dinner...to watch my children...so I could hear Eddie Vedder play at Wrigley Field from atop our friends' posh roof deck. I mean, really.

Obviously, there were also tamales verdes from Veronica, our favorite tamale cart goddess (because this unborn child- like the two who have come before him/her- is a goodly part Mexican food).

And since yesterday WAS National Ice Cream Day (Observed), we celebrated with chocolate cherry Bordeaux ice cream...and a few of the chocolate chip cookies that Peej and the girls made. Because- Ice Cream Day.

Serious bakers.

While no amount of food can erase last night's overheard (and shrieked) conversation about the merits of Walgreens from my brain...I'd have to be pretty daft to leave a part of town which shoves this kinda food into my mouth.

I'm many things, but rarely daft.

Over-full, yes. Definitely.

Unless you're making a quick trip to Small's.

Then I want the brisket.