8 Things About Summertime Eating In Chicago.

Chicago is known for its food. And for the utter wild abandon that its warmer months can bring. So to that end, I give you 8 Things About Summertime Eating In Chicago:

8. There is no food- anywhere- better than something that can be bought from a street corner cart. Especially if you have to ask for clarification on an item more than once. (It exponentially adds to its ultimate deliciousness.)

7. Regardless of where you live, a nearby parish or street will be having a block party that tops any you've ever seen. And they'll have food grilling that will smell better than that thing you were planning on defrosting for supper.

Try some, kiddo.

6. Or heard. 'Cause that party will rage until well after your kids are tucked in for the night (with noise machines crankin').

5. Even the dinkiest "farm stand" (read: the back of a pickup truck, parked at the intersection of two busy streets) will display tastier produce than most things being offered in a major grocery chain. Because yeah, even though parts of Chicago are downright industrial, we're still located smack-dab in Midwestern Land. And that pickup truck produce? You'll probably find fruit that's like fifteen for a dollar.

4. There are entire festivals dedicated to ribs. Competing festivals. Same goes for burgers. And pretty much any type of cuisine you can think of. (At any of these festivals, by the by, you'll have the ability to purchase gigantic ears of corn on the cob and deep-fried Twinkies. This I promise you.)

3. Being that winter is roughly nineteen months long in Chicago, taking advantage of a restaurant or bar's outdoor seating makes every single thing taste better. Especially if it's sidewalk seating. (Nothing makes a meal taste better than eating it alfresco on a sidewalk in the face of people who are not yet eating an alfresco meal on a sidewalk.)

2. The night that you boldly declare NO DESSERT...the ice cream pushcart, the one attached to the bike, the traditional ice cream truck, and the nondescript soft serve mobile will hover by your front stoop for hours. With bells and music and horns and throngs of over-sugared children singing their praises. Right by your stoop. For hours.

1. Addendum: Any ice cream truck still double-parked on a major city street after 10pm does not have a primary business of selling ice cream. Ahem.

Seeya at the tamale stand, friends.

I Went To Sweet Suite '13 & All I Got Was This Lousy Night Of Insane Fun.

Here's what happens when I get invited to spifftacular social media events:

I turn into Wayne Campbell, a la Wayne's World, flashing my media badge backstage at the Alice Cooper concert. ("Is this cool?" "Is this good here?")

I have zero shame, and even less regret.

On July 26th, I was lucky enough to attend The Big Toy Book Sweet Suite '13, hosted by a plethora of amazingsauce people: Joey Fortman of Real Mom Media, Charlene DeLoach of Charlene Chronicles, Laurie Schacht of The Toy Insider Mom and, of course, The Big Toy Book.

It was ridiculous. Basically, I was there to play with everything new n' shiny in the world of toys, and babble like a toddler about my favorites. Here are a few:

Someone buy this My Girl's Dollhouse for me? I'll be your best friend and
even let you come over and watch me arrange furniture and dolls in it.

This is my "I'm sorry, little kids get LeapPad Ultra tablets that could, like, land a jet?" face. 

Thanks to MegaBloks and Hot Wheels, I created the fastest racer in the known world. 

And my swag "bag?" It was actually a box. A swag box. Shipped to my house because it was too large and full of awesome to be toted home.

Yeah, I wasn't the only one thrilled to bits by this event.

I vote the Sweet Suite ladies for mayor(s).

You could say I had a decently incredible time. If you'd like to see what other lucky/hyped-up bloggers chose as highlights of this supracool event, head to Twitter and check out the hashtag #SweetSuite13. And if you wanna see what you didn't even know you so desperately needed for your kids' toy needs (or your own- I am so in no position to judge), take a lookie loo at The Big Toy Book. You can even ask me to go on (and on and on) about my favorites.

Unless you want to know more about the humongo My Girl's Dollhouse.

It's not your style.

You don't need it.

Trust me.

You're welcome.

July Date: Dinner And A Movie, Part 2.

(To catch up on last month's Oh God, At Least We Tried date, clickyroo here.)

Back in the day, I went on a date with a boy.

He was sweet and funny and just awesome to be around. We held hands across a sparkly shellacked table. And it was one of those dates where both parties were just giddy with the potential potential, you know? I ordered a special pizzadilla (eggplant, caramelized onion, and goat cheese quesadilla pizza), and he ordered a mocha malt. And I'm pretty sure we sat there for hours, just laughing and staring and annoying the bejeebers out of the waitstaff.

Two nights ago, we went back for a quick meal after the girlies went to bed- and ordered the exact same meal at the PickMeUp Cafe. (Which just so happens to be the same meal we've been ordering from them over the past near-decade.)

It was really good.

And, in deference to the fact that we are no longer obnoxious young twentysomethings (and also due to the fact that we were gonna catch a movie within the half hour), we jetted pretty quickly. And tipped well. And played a bunch of songs on the jukebox. And held hands across a sparkly shellacked table.

Next stop was the Music Box Theatre to take in one of their featured French film festival selections. Now, without giving anything away, the flick we saw was awesome. And hilarious. And then really, really, tragically sad. Out of nowhere. (Come on, The French!)

But there was popcorn, and a classy old theater, and projected clouds across a dark ceiling which twinkled with star lights, and a boy.

A boy who held my hand.

And made me feel giddy.

Semi-Wordless Wednesday: Nature Edition.

Nature. We love it. No, for real.

We're doomed.

Can someone please call the ranger?