Next stop: Monticello

This* makes me think that I should be planning a trip to Thomas Jefferson's epic mansion, Monticello. In fact, I think every American Studies department should have a required course called "Long Road Running: A road trip through America's history." Or something equally enticing yet vague. I mean, c'mon, think about it: we'd start at Plymouth Rock and then hit a mixture of famous and underappreciated spots. It'd be awesome! Who's with me?!

*Thanks, Ben, for the link.

Adventures in Hot Glue Gunning, part 3

I finally got around to uploading photos from my shiny new camera (thanks, parents, for the birthday gift!) and discovered deep in the bowels of my memory card the pictures I had taken of my failed Gibson Girl paper wig.

Here she is, in all her 18th century/Linda Evangelista glory:


Bertha Honore Palmer, circa 1893 she is not. Not so bad, though, for some blotting paper, tissues, pantyhose and a glue gun, right? Just call me the MacGyver of the museum world.

Up, up and away

Just came back from a viewing of "Up" at the local multiplex. They have five-dollar Tuesdays, so I plan to see most of my summer blockbusters there. Or the Logan Theater, which is a tiny run-down jewel-box of a theater that plays second-runs for three bucks. Most movies eventually make it to the Logan, but it takes a while. The roommates and I couldn't wait to see "Up," so five-dollar Tuesday it was.

And let me tell you, IT WAS TOTALLY WORTH THE FIVE BUCKS. Seriously. As usual, Pixar* blows it out of the water. The colors, the shapes, the freaking masterful storytelling - I just... there are no words. Except these: go see it.

*Sidenote: the summer after high school I worked in downtown Emeryville in an office where my job was to purge old files and refile open cases. Yeah, it was thrilling. Every morning I caught the free Emeryville shuttle from McCarthur BART station. The shuttle went past the Pixar campus, and every day I watched as hip, cool, nerdy looking people in comfortable clothes and messenger bags got off at the pearly gates of Pixar and sauntered into work, looking happy and content, while the rest of us trundled on in the shuttle wearing our uncomfortable heels and ill-fitting suit pants. I swear, everytime after we dropped the Pixar folks off, the day got a little gloomier.

Summer in the city

In the dreary depths of Chicago's winter, when it seems like the snow will never melt and the frozen tundra that is the street outside your door goes on forever, people comfort themselves with the reminder that eventually, no matter how eternal winter seems to be, summer will come. And summer in Chicago is something to wait for.

I sort of didn't believe it, to be honest. The last few weeks have alternated between sweaty dreariness and outright thunderstorms, and it's hard to see past the torrential rain to the bright summer promised you. But last evening, I became a believer in Chicago summers.

It's not the weather that gets people excited, of course - wet heavy heat isn't particularly awesome. What is awesome, however, are the weeks after weeks of free concerts, festivals, block parties, and so on. Everyone is so relieved to not have to wear five layers outside that they go a little crazy, and it's great.

What I'm considering the kick-off event of my personal Chicago summer was last night's free St. Vincent concert in Millennium Park. Paid for by the city, it was the first in a whole series of free Monday night shows.

So basically, I got to see her:



in the great outdoors of Millennium Park, which is here:



For zero dollars.

In short: Game on, summer. GAME ON.