Amy in March

Amy came to visit this past weekend. She had secretly booked a gig at Uncommon Ground in Wrigleyville so I could see her play. It was great. I also took her to the cat house so I could show her my cat friends (aka, friends).

PICTURES, Y'ALLSIES:

Emergency

Recently my mom and stepdad had to change their phone number because they couldn't get 911 service. So, in light of this story, I give you my impression of my mom calling 911.

Lake in March

I love the lake in the winter. It's so still and quiet and I have it to myself.

U2

So you know how I hate U2? Well, maybe not so much hate as wish they'd just stop. And since they have a new album out or something with even more boring songs, they've been EVERYWHERE. As if Bono wasn't already everywhere enough. The other day I was taking a shower and Bono comes in and tells me to hurry up because I'm using up all the water in the world and then he did a duet with his sunglasses about freeing Burma.

Yesterday one of my favorite radio stations in Chicago was doing "U2sday" to celebrate All the Boring Songs, and by the time I was driving home all they were playing was U2. So I switched to the classic rock station AND IT WAS U2! NERDS!

Then I was in Wrigleyville for Russ's birthday dinner, and as I was driving home on Clark I came across this big crowd of people and security swarming the street and sidewalks. I was all, "What is going on here?" And what would you know, I look up at the Metro on my left and the effing marquee says "U-Effing-2." I shook my fist in the air and cried, "Noooooo!" They were doing a surprise "show" in Chicago and that was it. (By show, I mean talk, because I guess they didn't actually play, just talked about how awesome they are for two hours while people looked at their watches.) There's no escape. It's like I'm stuck in a moment and I can't get out of it.

My cats

Today at the cat shelter I visited with the cats in the isolation rooms for the first time. That's where they keep the sick cats and the strays that have just been admitted to the shelter. The cats are in cages and don't get many visitors because the health code is strict. You have to bleach your shoes when you enter and leave, wear scrubs, wash your hands between every cage. And they recommend, if you have pets, to take off your clothes before you enter your house. So disrobed in the hallway and left my clothes in a pile that looked, in case my neighbor saw them, like I had melted. I love cats.

Big Edie

My mom visited this weekend from the sayouth. She brought her fur coat, of course, because after just two years away from a real winter she's developed that paper-thin southern belle skin that can't be exposed to temperatures below 85. The Fur Coat... It's a never-ending source of embarrassment for me. I think it has something to do with me being an outdoorswoman now. Plus who wears fur coats anymore? Besides Joan Crawford's corpse?

We went to Oak Park on Saturday to see Frank Lloyd Wright's home and studio, and I tried to tell her that Oak Park is the national Peta headquarters and Pam Anderson is going to throw paint on you. But she didn't believe me. I really liked FLW's crib, which surprised me because I thought for sure I'd be bored to tears and collapse into a roped-off 200-year-old chair. But I like his style and his stained glass a lot. I was so inspired, in fact, that I decided I want to be an artist now. I made my mom go with me to the art supplies store the next day. But it turns out art supplies are expensive. So I got a piece of poster board and some Sharpies.

Saturday evening we met Christine and Russ for a drink in Evanston, which was so fun and very winey. My mom and Christine had a good time catching up and reliving the good old (and I do mean old, HEY OH!) days in Detroit. Then my mom, Russ, and I went to dinner at another wine bistro in the city. Sunday my mom made a big batch of almond chicken and I've been eating it for lunch and dinner ever since.



Peewee likes it when her real mumma visits because she makes real food with, like, meat in it. Here she is emerging from her cave of blankets and saying, "It's BACON!"


The Frank Lloyd Wright home.


The side, near the studio entrance.




One of the FLW houses in the neighborhood—his first in Oak Park.


Wine time!


Peewee in her quilt tunnel.