See Ya Later, June.

Oh, this summer is rushing by so fast, Dad! It feels like only yesterday I saw my first Jenny Craig commercial threatening the arrival of bikini season. Now I have to figure out which fur coat I want to take out of cedar storage! This crazy life!

Now let's do some introductory Chicago photo essaying, shall we... ese? (That's how Mexicans say "dude." And it's a play on words. I love a homonym! You of all people should know that.)

Here's the sunset over Lakeshore Drive, which runs right along Lake Ontario:

Behold, the haunting beauty of a sodium light at dusk. Ignore the less beautiful lights. 

Ha HA! I tricked you! That's Lake Michigan! You've gotta know your great lakes, Dad. Use the pneumatic aid HOMES if you have to, homes. (That's what street punks call their dear friends. I used to think they were saying, "Holmes" and making a literary reference. Not so.) But seriously, study up if you have to. I don't want you embarrassing yourself at cocktail parties and retirement luncheons. Do you call them luncheons or is that only for when girls eat lunch en masse? Or is that a luncheonette? None of those questions are sincere.

That lake is mere blocks from my apartment! Have I gone down there? No. Do I plan to? Not anytime soon. Why don't I take advantage of the natural resources around me? I don't really know. Maybe it's because my palatial apartment is so much better than some dirty public area filled with people who got ready for bikini season. I don't care. I bet Lake Michigan doesn't have one of these:

Sometimes I rollerblade in here.

Isn't it gorgeous? They tell me it's called a kitchen. Kichen? Kitzen. I don't know how it's pronounced, but apparently poor people make food in them! Isn't that hilarious? Oh, I laugh and laugh when I think about someone chopping something up and putting it into a bowl and turning on that black machine back there and cooking something that they'd eat afterward! Can you even imagine? Anyhow, I mostly use it for coffee and standing. Sometimes I practice monologues from Christopher Durang plays. Yes, I'll get right up on that counter there, if need be. I just follow the muse, Dad. It's not mine to say what's right or wrong in the theater.

Oh, hey- I built this couch:

You can almost smell the Swedish meatballs.

The good people at Ikea went ahead and sent an unassembled couch for me to put together like I was some kind of man woman. I was very angry at first. I mean, I bought it online and had it delivered. I could've sworn that would send the message, "I don't build." But apparently, if you shop at Ikea, you build. So I did. It only took me four hours. It filled me with such pride, I now use the flag of Sweden as my bedroom curtains.

I also have a lovely patio, but there's an incredibly unlovely four story parking structure being built across the street. Here's a taste of what that's like. (Note: This takes place from 7am-7pm, Monday through Saturday):

Welcome to Chicago! Pardon our mess. 

There really is nothing like the sound of relentless jackhammering. I'm sure it's what serial killers hear in their head when they're on the prowl. It's second only to the sound of a dentist drill in pure "I have to get away from this"-ness. Needless to say, Page and I try to plan many out of the apartment building weekend activities. So far we've:

1) shopped and 2) complained bitterly about the jackhammers.

We also went to a baseball game. The seats were pretty good:

Harkens back to the old Rex Hardware days, doesn't it?

The Cubs were playing the Yankees. The Cubs lost by two. Everyone got to drink beer but me. That's all I took away from this entire experience. 

In closing, I'd like to use a new feature of this blog site, the direct youtube connection, to pay homage to your beloved Hollywood hero, Mr. Peter Falk. I can still remember as a child, watching you watching this movie and laughing your ass off. It was worrisome to me at the time that I was being raised by someone with such broad comedic tastes. But in the end, you were right Dad. 

God, I hate saying that!