Big ol' project, hmm?

Well, as some people may know by now on Facebook (I can't believe I just typed that)...my "big project" was the pregnancy that I was trying not to blurt out! (And the hidden nausea, weight gain, etc, etc, [and sadly] etc...)

But yes! P.J. and I are expecting a kiddo in early November! Doesn't that make it sound like we're waiting by the front door, anxiously peering out the foyer curtains? Well, if you disregard the late night rehearsals, endless work weeks and traveltraveltravel, we essentially are.

The initial shock/surprise/blinkblinkblink moment when we discovered the newest Schoeny who was coming to call should have been filmed (not least of all the Mario Kart Wii coping mechanism- P.J.'s exact words whilst his eyes were glued to the game, "I hope you don't take this as anything but excitement for you and the baby and myself, but I maybe need a MINUTE longer to process..." And then he handed me a controller. And I played, too.) And later I fell asleep in a mixture of crazy happiness and sheer exhaustion/nerves/bitsy bit o' terror. It was kind of like the night we got engaged. With nausea.

And it has been slightly (extremely) hard to write plays, blog, clean the house or even play "not-lying- down games" with the kiddos for whom I nanny during these past few months when the "common symptoms" start setting in. Turns out, after the first little bit of excitement sets in, so does an incredible urge to let your head snap to one side while your eyes roll back in your head and your brain takes you from zero to coma in three seconds. Plus, I've been subsiding on Italian ice and tortilla chips. (Honestly- who craves ITALIAN ICE? I hadn't given it a thought since 1989.) 

The advice and bizarre comments have also come pouring in. Two favorites?

"Boy, you guys don't waste any time, do you?" 

This is wrong on so many levels. How do they know we haven't been trying since we met? (We haven't.) Are they actively picturing me in a nightie with a stopwatch? (Please don't.) 

Also- "Enjoy it [reading/sleeping/time with the husband/travel/dinner/theatre/walking around] while you can..." 

Basically, anytime I'm seen doing anything remotely fun or exciting, at least one person per scenario has been known to drop that gem. I have two responses:

a) The major and all-encompassing way I've been enjoying "it" for the past 12 weeks has been to clutch my couch cushions at night hoping to ignore the waves of seasickness and whine to [the tech-rehearsal-bound] P.J. for some Italian ice, only to fall asleep during the second hour of TNT programming. 

b) Have you ever, EVER in your life enjoyed anything that people told you was almost over? It's like the Sunday evening rule. No matter how much fun you're having playing Tetris, as soon as someone tells you to "enjoy it now, Monday morning is coming awfully soon," you lose all hope for having a carefree evening and instead start thinking of your 3rd grade worksheet that you've yet to complete. (Even IF you're gonna be watching a Disney Sunday movie- nope. Ruined.)

That said, I am enjoying the heck out of eating anything and everything my stomach will allow (my system and I have come to an uneasy truce) and reading each week about what the kiddo's doing. This week s/he is hiccupping and clenching and unclenching teenser fists!

Plus, we heard the heartbeat last night- 165! Pretty excitable kid.

Gosh. Who saw that coming?

I need a vacation from my vacation.

I think that should be up there with "I don't do Mondays," "Hang in there," and "I'm with stupid." (Also, as it was recently pointed out to me: phrases on a mug= witty, ironic humor. Phrases on a tee shirt? Not quite so classy.)

Anyhow, as I've recently come back from *Cali '09,* I thought I'd share some highlights. Highlights, mind you, and not full blown tales. I am EXHAUSTED, after all.

Los Angeles- Met Scott Bakula. (Life highlight, I daresay.) He was superbly kind, generous with his time and not at all fazed by crazies (me and the Peej). Check out my Facebook pic. It is glorious. Met Donald Bellisario (Me: Thank you for creating my favorite show! D.B.: Uhh...you're welcome.) Met Deborah Pratt. She HUGGED me after I won first place for the novella competition.

Oh, didn't I mention? I WON FIRST PLACE IN THE NOVELLA COMPETITION! And had my copy signed by my heroes.

Lowlight: Ended up on a Quantum Leap trivia panel and got SCHOOLED by a lady who knew Sam Beckett's (mind you, a fictitious character) social security number. I told P.J. that perhaps I wasn't a SuperFan. He said that maybe it was okay.

Had brunch with Sonal, a rockstar gal that P.J. went to school with and I performed with years ago...she's currently on Scrubs and is one of the sweetest people in L.A. We went to a fabulous outdoor brunchy place and I perhaps ate too much, maybe leading her to believe that I am one of the gluttoniest people in Chicago.

I cannot help this.

After L.A. we took Highway 1 up to Monterey for about six and a half hours; at night that road can get kinda crazy, so that's EXACTLY when we drove it! (Highlight: dozing with the sea breeze against my face. Lowlight: It was at midnight. Also, I was woken by P.J. laughing maniacally, our car hugging the cliff's edge and my husband exclaiming "This is NUTS!")

Ordered pizza at 1am and had it delivered to our hotel (we proceeded to eat breakfast from this amazing pizza for the next two days. It was that good.)

Another highlight: Monterey Bay Aquarium! With otters and rooms of glowy jellies and sting rays that I could touch (and I did!)

Lowlight: Whatever that horrific smell was that came from outside the parking garage. Seriously. Get on that, please.

More highlights: A fabulous dinner, courtesy of my folks...with lobsters! The Jabberwock Inn, the cutest inn EVER, whose proprietors allowed us to explore the grounds like crazies. The drive BACK down Highway 1 to Nepenthe in Big Sur- treetop dining overlooking some pretty angry surf. The wooden stairs Peej and I found, leading down to a wild area of beach right off of Highway.

Lowlight: Um, how am I still in this car? Are we done with the car? Almost? Okay.

San Francisco! Okay, so there was a bit more driving. About three hours. But then it was smooth sailing. Until P.J. lost his sunglasses. But by this point we had dropped off the car, shuttled to the airport, found our way to the BART (kinda like our Metra) to take us downtown...and had been riding the BART for about twenty minutes. Oh HAH! So...we went back. (Highlight: The BART employees were so kind and helpful. Seriously. It was almost embarassing how good to us they were. Lowlight: WE DID NOT FIND THE SUNGLASSES.)

Highlights: Dinner at the oldest Italian restaurant in America. Ferrying to Alcatraz and taking very serious poses in jail cells. Re-enacted scenes from So I Married An Axe Murderer ("...I love Vicki. She's the best!") Fresh crab rolls by the docks. Renting a bike and riding over the Golden Gate Bridge into Sausalito. Dim sum in Chinatown (bean paste sesame buns that I cannot pronounce and it doesn't MATTER!) and excellent Middle Eastern in Haight-Ashbury. (I swear we did more than just eat.)

Lowlights: When P.J. said we'd ditch the car for ease of travel, he meant we'd start WALKING everywhere. Also, tandem bikes are not quaint or charming, regardless of what any musical/Golden Era flick may try to tell you. I spent half the time in fear that I'd fall off the back and the other half nagging P.J. and wondering when he'd PUSH me off. Dirty hippies in Haight-Ashbury. If I really needed to get a fix I'd go back to Hampshire [Rim shot.]

All in all a glorious[ly exhausting] trip. I slept for a goodly bit of the next day upon our return, and P.J...began a two-week tech for his new show "The Long Count" at New Leaf Theatre. As you do. We DID get a day together since being back...Easter was superbly relaxed, with a double feature of Bull Durham and Tell No One- the former being an awesome Costner/Sarandon love fest and the latter being an intense French thriller than caused my nightlight to work overtime. It was also a day of multiple naps and various snacky foods and pastel candies being consumed in place of large "meals." (And no worries- we went to the Easter vigil the night before. What good Catholics.)

And now, it's time for my nap.

(Read- more fifty hour work weeks...and perhaps finishing up one of the three writing projects I have going. Sigh. I got to rest on my laurels for two weeks.)

Kind of the same thing.

It's functional AND good-looking.

Happy late March and belated Saint Patrick's Day! Also, happy early spring-carrythatextrahoodie-sureit'swarmnowbuthaveyoucheckedtheweather-rainbootswouldbebetterthanthosecuteballetflats-goodgodit's30degreesthismorning? Best time of the year. Except summer. And fall.

And now for a little public transit-related public ettiquette- If you are a person who pees on the bus, stop it. You are SO close to actually being out of doors where it would be marginally more acceptable to empty your bladder. Yes? Okay.

Public nose pickers. Even if you are tilting your head so as not to be quite so visible, it's a nose pick. Even if you're using the side of a pinky nail- nose pick. Do not do this.

To the man with your elbows fully extended, drastically cutting into the personal space of the adjoining seat: to you I say cut it out. Excessive girth is acceptable. Excessive elbows are not.

Slightly less offensive but still mention-worthy: the countless individuals whose "neutral" face is, in fact, the scrunched-up, open-mouthed blank gaze of those who have no idea what their face is doing. Anyone with me on this? Gah.

Things that ARE wundy this week: my novella was recently chosen to be in the top ten of the international finalists! The top three will be chosen next week in Los Angeles...where I will also be. (And then Monterey and then San Francisco. Woot!)

Also, my youngest sister Emma is in Chi for the week, getting the grand tour of things I tell people I do all the time but truly only venture out for when people are visiting: brunch at Victory's Banner, thrifting at the VDO, free night at the MCA, watching an Instant Theatre piece of mine at Chi Dramatists (tomorrow night, 8pm!), sundaes at Margie's...and lots of nannying. 

Okay, some of those are done weekly.

And capping off the awesome portion of the week? My recent Village Discount Outlet purchase of a snazzy new mug for twenty cents. (I have such a weakness for their kitsch section, and this one takes the cake. Mmm, cake.) It's a cream colored, squarish, and quite obviously homemade receptacle. What makes it clutch, however, is the clearly hand-drawn scene of a cow, wearing an apron, surrounded by tables and squiggly floor lines. Over her head? The words: ELSIE QUITS HER DAY JOB. 

So great. It's also slightly ironic, as Elsie seems to be very much so still employed. Maybe it's foreshadowing? An inner monologue? Perhaps projection on the part of the creator? (And by that I mean the pottery whiz, not God.)

Photos to follow- prepare to be jealous.

Uh, hi March.

Whoops.

So, um, been a tad busy with a li'l project or two I'll reveal shortly.

But in the meantime- travel/writing/more travel/more (but unfortunately, of lesser quality) writing/and some meetings.

Two weekends ago Peej and I went to Cincy and had a great Subway experience on the way through the state of Indiana (the chain restaurant, I mean- I don't believe Indiana has a transit system. I could be dead wrong) wherein we, due to the Lenten Season, ordered non-meat subs. The kid behind the counter asked us, "Is there some reason you're eating fish?" Blink blink, we said to ourselves, is there a reason we *shouldn't* be eating the fish? Turns out the kid was just curious about the eating habits of Catholics, but still.  File that one under 'things that would only happen in small towns...right off of exit ramps.' The real purpose of our trip, however, was to meet James Boden Schoeny- and we fought over who got to hold him the entire time. He fell asleep in my arms= point for me, but P.J. got a smile out of him with a song= slightly cooler. We love us some Bodie. His big sis Hannah celebrated her 4th birthday with some pretty sweet loot from the uncle & aunts and two parties in the same day. That's usually how I roll, too.

The weekend was over way too quickly, as per usual, and we soon found ourselves in the midst of a new week. Tired. I finished my one-act for submission to ATC (it's pretty good) and tried to tie up loose plots in a one-act for submission to the Manhattan Theatre Project...sadly, that one is NOT as good as the first one, but latter is up for a 7.5k cash prize. Sigh. (Side note, have you ever noticed that TRIED is an anagram for TIRED? This cannot be a coincidence.)

The next weekend I found myself (veeery early on a Friday) traveling from Roscoe Village to Midway to Atlanta to Fort Lauderdale to Miami to South Beach (whoo!) My parents and I were attending my cousin's wedding the next day and stayed with one of my most favoritest uncles in the world- one who happens to own a sweet beach-front condo with one of the best balconies ever to overlook the Atlantic. Sadly, I only caught an hour and a half of sun there. Happily, I got to have one of the best meals ever at Barton G's in South Beach; $27 martinis, a gorgeous garden seating area with lights and palm trees (we do not have those here) and the funkiest presentation I've ever seen. Seriously. The duck was served on a tiny stage with a miniature (and working!) duck shoot behind the entree. I saw a gal shooting a teensy gun whilst eating fifty buck duck. (That is an excellent name for a band, btw.) I got a coconut shrimp appetizer that came on humongo skewers and was surrounded by streams of nitrogen. Unfortunately, a slight breeze was pushing most of the clouds into my face, causing me to sway and cough like a moron. "The nitrogen won't hurt you," the waiter cavalierly told me. "I CANNOT SEE," I retorted, most uncouthly. 

But it was still rad.

The next day I enjoyed another hour and a half sunning myself on the exceptional balcony (all the while pretending I was readying myself for my cousin's wedding.) Then my mom, dad and I hopped into our rental car and drove up to Cape Coral, FL. Two and a half hours away. Unfortunately, we didn't make it to the actual wedding, as we were stuck in traffic for double the time it should've taken to drive there. Super unfortunately, we soon found out the reason for the delay- a motor home had crashed and INCINERATED on the spot. Eight emergency vehicles had whizzed past us on a strip known as "Alligator Alley" (don't unlock your doors, folks) and rendered miles of highway immovable. By the time we got up to the accident there was a huge scorch mark on the ground. Creepy. Kind of made us feel bad for whining about the drive- but we still didn't feel amazing about the fact that the accident had occurred ten miles past our starting point. Sigh. 

Four hours later we made it to the reception and actually had a nice time, although I kept sneaking out of the reception hall and making excuses to call people on my cell. (I needed to get sunshine SOMEHOW!!)

Two and a half hour drive home, straight to bed, eaaaaarly rising (5:30am, minus an hour for the time change, minus an hour for Chicago time- 3:30! Woot!) for my 8am flight...to Atlanta...and then Midway (45 minute circling through thunderstormy clouds- "This is how it's going to end," she thought to herself") and back up to Roscoe Village.

Total travel= 24 combined hours. Total sunshine= 3 combined hours. That= wrong.

But it's okay, because yesterday got up to a balmy 65 degree...thunderstorm...and this morning was, well, 4.

That's kind of the same thing, right?

Wrote two scenes for the piece due this weekend and I can honestly state that I have no idea how wundy or god awful they are. Plus, I may have to throw in the towel for the short mystery due on Sunday. (Seriously, a complex piece that I have YET TO START? How much terrific potential does THAT have? Mmm hmm. Lots.)

And two nights ago I attended a meeting for Chicago Dramatists alongside some pretty big names. They're starting a campaign for '30 for 30,' a drive to raise money for a theatre that has spawned some pretty spectacular works and careers (ever heard of Tina Fey? She wrote and had a play produced about Catherine the Great that put her on the map fifteen years ago. And then she did some TV.) They're having some great events and speakers- for example, Rick Cleveland (former Dramatists writer), now a mucky muck with Mad Men and former writer for West Wing, is giving a seminar, plus doing a separate downtown show...and giving all the proceeds to Chi Dramatists. Pretty spiffy! They also happen to be the company that has given me my biggest and best chances for showcasing work, plus they've featured me as a playwright a time or eleven. 

Want to donate or find out more cool stuff about them? You can find them at www.chicagodramatists.org or even become their friend on Facebook. Yay for the combination of incredible theatre + the technology favored by fourteen-year old girls! 

(And uber-lax bloggers.)

My B.

That's what my brother-in-law Tom says when he does something wrong. My B. It's almost like saying "my bad" is gonna take up too much time; let's just lock & load and fix this thing. My B. 

Anyhow, I'm terribly sorry for being such a lax blogger. My [B]B. 

Posting is the only thing I've let slide in the recent rush of deadlines and activities...except maybe advanced personal grooming. (Is that an acceptable use? You know, when people are mucca busy they say things like 'I haven't even had time to pee!' (I always, ALWAYS make time to pee) and 'I don't even have time for basic personal hygiene.' I try to stay on top of that, but I think the next level would be 'advanced,' i.e. eyebrow plucking and bi-weekly exfoliation.) 

I think it would be fun to list the themes about which I'm writing and editing...just to give you an inkling of why I can't sleep "dreamlessly:" two boyhood friends arguing about coming of age and Chicago-style hotdogs, an updated 'And Then There Were None' (and shortened to under 45 minutes), a virtual date between two music junkies and commitment-phobes in an era of technological relationships, a murder mystery spanning 2 decades and ending in a midwestern circus, editing a shoot 'em up thriller for a literary manager pal, and [recently finished!] editing my youngest sis' short story about a man outrunning his personal demons. 

Add the 50+ hours in my work week and, (for some bizarre reason) the pressing need to organize every nook and closet within 3000 feet of my bedroom and donate all the excessive stuff to charity, and it equals a tired me. Plus, our pal Matt (Hi Matt! Stop reading my blog and go do your work- and no, Bejeweled Blitz does not count) has been staying with us for the past 3 weeks (he does dishes, so he= awesome), but P.J. and I have been a two-person show for a few years and a third party does make for a new dance of sorts. We're also either traveling or having someone stay with us every week/weekend until the beginning of April- which is great, truly- but as everything is due by March 15th...

Whee!

Also not helping the situation- people who do not use their bodies the way they ought during certain transit situations. For example, the other morning I was running up the southbound Addison brown line stairs behind a TALL MAN WITH LONG LEGS. Who was walking. Ambling, really. I missed a train because, although I was racing my stubby legs like a hamster on a wheel, Daddy Longlegs (who could have taken the steps three at a time, no prob) decided that this was the perfect venue for his morning constitutional (a guy I knew once thought that meant 'using the bathroom'- that is not the definition of which I speak). Anyhow, I think it is the civic duty of all the stretchy people out there to not block the already-too-narrow steps with intentional sloth. I said it.

And since I had failed to update since the 12th I also missed wishing everyone a happy Valentine's Day! I have always loved this holiday, ever since I was a little kid and craved cellophane-wrapped hearts, overflowing desk envelopes and parties that I would get sick in anticipation of. (Really- my mom had to pick me up early for multiple years' classroom parties...I would make myself ill even BEFORE I overindulged in too much candy. I was excitable. It was sad.) My parents always used to make a special dinner and give my sisters and I small presents at the table. To this day I obsess over making handmade valentines and calling friends all over the country to tell them I love them on that day. Also, I overdo the wearing of the red. 

This year was pretty sweet. P.J. and I usually get each other something kinda teensy and symbolic, plus I always make the biggest, sparkliest card for him...

He got me a 42 inch HD flat screen television.

I got him a new pair of gloves.

He also took me out to Turquoise for din, but by that point I had already decided to let him win arguments for the next...month. (I'm trying, anyhow.) The rest of the night was spent playing Mortal Kombat on the Wii...very largely...and seeing how clearly bad computer graphics would appear in the movie 'Blades of Glory.' (Awfully clearly.)

I am almost rabidly looking forward to lounging on my couch and watching marathons of Law & Order...

...in April. 

Did you send me a Valentine yet?

I spent the better part of the weekend (Saturday a.m. until...Monday evening) curled in a ball and wishing for a shotgun. Recently having been afflicted with a vicious cross between food poisoning and spinal meningitis (and, having made up a disease, unable to be CURED from such), it was a lousy way to spend 72 hours. Add insult to injury (literally, someone called me fat- okay, I made up that part), it was a whopping 65 degrees outside. Which would, roughly, be an 80 degree temperature hike. Le sorrow.

The best part about being that near death is the amazing dreams you get to have. I fell asleep in the midst of a Demetri Martin standup special (no fault of Demetri's- it was indeed special) and had an incredible two hour dream wherein Demetri and I became extremely close. That is all I will say. When I awoke and realized that I had somehow paused the On-Demand show, I continued watching. This time, however, it was with a fond nostalgia. "Oh, Demetri," I said. "You haven't changed a bit."

And since P.J. has been understudying for a show up at Piccolo Theatre AND preparing for the Foreign Service Exam, I've had the odd sensation of being the last person in Chicago. The last grownup, anyhow. Between spending days with all these people under 6 years of age and writing for about two hours an afternoon or evening...and then yelling goodnight to the cats (yup) and arising to a strange man-shaped lump in the bed (the same one, usually) and having our only face-to-face convos be when, admittedly, I am not at my awesomest...well, it makes a gal start to feel a little socially inept. 

Tuesday, however, reached almost 70 degrees and suddenly it was all 'Hello Dolly' (minus the singing or storyline) to Chicago! Jack and I played at the park, mailed [handmade] Valentines across the country, cleaned my hall closet, donated bags of things to Village Discount Outlet, finally got my wedding gown preserved (they asked if two weeks was okay- I told them there was no REAL hurry), got a bunch o' dry cleaning done, opened every window in a 2 block radius and made Jack run around his neighborhood until he begged to go lie down before dinner. No! I yelled, It's Spring!

Today, not so much. It is froze.

This week brought about the extremely important discovery that noise-cancelling Bose headphones are excellent at keeping sound OUT...but not a great deal of sound is kept IN. Case in point- when one's iPod freezes on a song, refusing to let one change it or lower the volume, it's pivotal to have a set of headphones that won't let even the tiniest bit of Michael Bolton out for the train to hear. (Ever seen a train full of disbelieving, snickery or plain ol' scornful eyes burn pretentious holes into your face? Yeah, throw a little 'Steel Bars' at them.) In this case, three words are clutch: Unplug Headphones. Quickly. 

Cinchy.

Also this week, I've learned that a perfectly normal umbrella that never acts out in the most normal of settings (i.e., dry, in a closet) will choose a thundery commute to lose its handle in a "mud" puddle, blow out and then back in (a la Mary Poppins), drenching the holder with rain and God knows what else from the "muddy" reattached handle, then inexplicably decide to shorten itself by four inches on the pole (regardless of what the holder does or does not do), making the holder look like [s]he's carrying a dwarf umbrella, and THEN miraculously go back to a non-Poltergeisty umbrella...just as the rain lets up.

I guess that's not so much a public service announcement (because you cannot, CANNOT prepare for that kind of thing) as it is a fun anecdote. It seemed way more helpful in my mind.

And I'll end on a highly-charged-this-is-gonna-have-adverse-reactions kinda thought: have you read about the girl who's auctioning her virginity for like 3.8 million dollars? Regardless of the moral implications (it's completely wrong) or the psychological (this is the new "reality" star), I'm most concerned about the legality issue. Is this not the EXACT definition of prostitution?

(Disclaimer: Mom- I'm no longer puking, the dream about Dimitri was G-rated, P.J. didn't get me a shotgun, the man-lump IS Peej, I'm not all alone in a bad neighborhood, I let Jack take a nap, I'm wearing that warm scarf/wrap you got me, I don't wear my headphones when I'm walking alone at night, I fixed my umbrella and I agree that we should feel sorry for the virgin girl for having low self-esteem and an obviously terrible home life.)

Phew. 

Plus, I got a new hat with wooden flower buttons.

Firstly and foremostly, happy first birthday Cole Sebastian Grant! (And Scout Delilah Kosner, oh my goodness...all these babies in my life turning one! Specifically two of them.) 

P.J. and I went to Boston this past weekend to party down with the nephews, sisters and parentals; it was a whirlwind 36 hours of non-stop meals, Harvard trippin' and baleful eyes peering over the front of my aerobed at 5am. Plus dinner in the North End! And a brunchy party with cupcakes and a super-sleepy host! No, not his parents. (Although they were, too.) The birthday boy conked out during the festivities...though, to be fair, so did two of his aunts. 

It was such a fast (and fun) trip that when P.J. and I found ourselves back home after our return flight and bus trip and hoofing it, we wondered what the heck just happened and WHY OH WHY was it almost Monday morning.

It is always Monday morning. Also, winter.

Last night after work, I started out for pilates up at Clark and Belden- a full 14 blocks from my Wednesday/Friday job locale- and managed to miss every bus that could have swiftly taken me there. (It was way too frigid to stop and wait for a bus. I wasn't willing to freeze my eyelids. IT IS THAT COLD.) However, I did have the wonderful moment of almost having a gal run me over- walking beside me- and then chat and laugh about it whilst passing me. Sadly, my over-ear Bose headphones were on (they are the only thing saving me from deep ear trauma in this wind) and I couldn't make out a darned thing she was saying. I'm an excellent lip reader, but this girl was wearing a mammoth hood and kept turning her face away from me (laughing, I believe. I think we were sharing a nice moment, as opposed to "Move it over, heifer, you have ugly boots.") I nodded and smiled, even managed a benevolent chuckle, but there was no way I was going to remove my headphones for a shortish encounter. Sorry. I kept expecting her to continue on in the full-speed manner in which she had been walking, but I truly believe that she felt we were having some moment of utter bonding and continued to talk at me for almost one full city block. There was no way I could take off the headphones and admit that I hadn't heard her- regardless, I was still not going to remove them in that weather.

Still, I count that as a moment of connection in the otherwise frigid and solitary wasteland that winter in Chicago becomes. 

And now, further proof that Facebook isn't really on the pulse of my lifestyle- an ad on the side of my homepage read "Recession problems? Rent your second home!"

I don't think Facebook really understands my day-to-day problems.