The road is my middle name

Winter break was a whirlwind - I spent a few days in Chicago, then packed up my friend's car and headed southwest. After some less-than-ideal weather in the Ozarks, dullness in Oklahoma and the terrible traffic in Dallas, we pulled into Austin for a few days with another old friend. She showed us a grand ol' time, which mostly involved extensive amounts of eating. Austin has crazy good food, dudes. Like, ridiculously good. Like, I've-been-dreaming-about-it good. The tacos alone were reason enough to move there. And don't even get me started on the gourmet doughnut truck! And the cupcake truck... even me, hater of the frou-frou cupcake trend, was charmed!


And the shopping - I have never so badly wanted a pair of cowboy boots as I did during the thirty minutes we spent perusing the shelves of Allen's Boots.


Obviously, these shoes and I are meant to be - I just have to dig up a spare six hundred bucks somewhere. Easy-peasy, right?


Even the store signage was amazing!


My love of tacos and cowboy boots aside, Austin was phenomenal. After a weekend, though, the road started calling us, so we piled back into the car and drove west across the gorgeous sandy emptiness of west Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona. The sunset outside of El Paso was particularly stunning, even with all the traffic:


Soon, though, we were dying to return home, and even the rain in Southern California couldn't dampen our excitement about being back in the Golden State. We celebrated with date shakes in Palm Springs:


After a near-disastrous break-pad experience, we pulled into Los Angeles for a night with Isaac and Lizz who wined and dined in the glamorous manner to which we would love to have become accustomed. Revived with a delicious dinner at Good Girl Dinette and a deep night's sleep, we decided to take on the torrential downpour and headed for the Grapevine. Six hours and eight chapters of Stephen Fry's autobiographical audiobook later, we were pulling into the 'rents home in friendly old Berkeley.

And so, after a week and a half on the road, three weeks in the warm embrace of my family, and two weddings, I returned to the great state of Delaware for winter term. Not for long, though - this weekend I take off for two weeks in London with my graduate cohort for a trip the Winterthur program refers to as "History of English Design" but that I prefer to think of as The "So, You Think You Like Museums? THINK AGAIN" Tour of 2011. Ah, the life of the international jet-setter.

Return to the Second City

Essays are finished, my sketchbook filled with drawings of questionable quality has been turned in, and I've worked very hard to stop thinking about the rococo armchair I misidentified on an exam. I woke up this morning in a tiny bedroom under a flight of stairs, looking out on a snow-covered street and thinking, "thank goodness I have my snowboots," and that can only mean one thing: I'm back in Chicago, baby!

My plans for the next few days are simple: visit friends at the Chicago History Museum, relish in the presence of public transportation, and eat everything, everywhere. And then I hop in the car with one of my oldest friends and we drive south for an epic roadtrip that will eventually take us home to California! All in all, I think this is shaping up to be a remarkable winter break.

out and about

So, things have been crazy-awesome lately, and while I don't have time to go into details right now (I'm supposed to be on the train to work at this moment), I will say this: Hawaii is so freaking beautiful and the week my roommates and I spent there at the end of February probably saved me from committing ritual suicide over Chicago's winter.


More to come, eventually.

Snowsuit Up 4: Live Free or Die Snow*

L.L. BEAN I LOVE YOU.

Seriously, the quality of my life has been drastically improved by the presence of these boots. They are the wind beneath my wings, the peanut butter to my jelly, the yin to my yang, the traction to the ice outside my door, etc. It's enough to make a girl believe in Santa Claus.

*one day this blog will be about something other than snow. That day is not today.

Snowsuit Up 3: The Iceman Cometh

Icy streets of Chicago: 3
Shoshi's balance and physical well-being: 0.

Clearly, I'm losing the battle with the asphalt. My ass has gotten a bit too friendly with Chicago sidewalks recently. LL Bean, HURRY UP.

Snowsuit Up 2: Revenge of the Snow

I am no longer so excited about this snow business. On Friday afternoon on my way home from work I managed to find the ONE patch of ice in a 30 yard radius and slip on it, falling in the middle of the street and narrowly avoiding getting hit by a turning Ford Taurus. The 75-year-old grandmother resting on her walker apologized for not being quick enough to grab me.

Then I stumbled out of bed this morning still sore from the fall and came face to face with this outside my window. SNOW. I called L.L. Bean in a panic, wondering why my snow boots hadn't arrived yet, only to find out that they're still at the warehouse and won't make it to Chicago until Friday. Don't they know that I am a delicate California flower? I don't know if I can survive four more days of this. If nothing else, my body doesn't have enough cushioning for all the falling I"m going to be doing between now and then.

The worst part? It's only in the 30s. We've got another 25 degrees to drop before it's really winter. A DELICATE CALIFORNIA FLOWER, I TELL YOU.

Snowsuit up!

FIRST SNOW OF THE YEAR!

Okay, but see, now I'm torn. On the one hand: yay! It's pretty and white and fluffy and makes Chicago seem like a winter wonderland where a girl and a guy might Meet Cute, hate each other on sight, and then slowly warm up to each other through a series of hijinks until a terrible misunderstanding shows them how much they actually care! And then they kiss when the ball drops on New Years Eve, and it all happened because snow has the magical ability to turn the city of Chicago into a romantic comedy from the 90s starring Meg Ryan!

On the other hand: SNOW BOOTS. And slush. And slipping on the frozen sidewalk. And wearing three pairs of socks becuase if you don't, your toes will fall off. And waiting for the bus in sub-zero temperature. And the terrible gray color that snow turns as it melts and mixes with the filth of the city streets.

It hasn't snowed enough yet for the serious winter-wear and the terrible melt-freeze-melt-freeze cycle to pick up yet, though, so I'm staying optimistic. Snow looks so damn pretty, and as long as I can stay under my covers and watch it fall, I'm good. Just don't make me go outside.

Or maybe I should just snowsuit up and build an igloo!




Sorry I've been so absent - grad school applications have eaten my life. More to come, though, promise!