Chicago Postcards, Days 5 & 6

The last days of vacation are the hardest to enjoy. You're so conscious of everything you want to do and how little time you have to do it. The more you try to do, the more you wear yourself out and don't enjoy it.

On Saturday I woke up as early as I could and made my way to the Art Institute of Chicago. It was my third visit, once for each time I've visited the city. It's hard to admit, but I'm not able to connect with the Art Institute. I know their collection is amazing and I do find things to look at, but I've never been able to get lost in any of the art there. I want to love it, I really do, but it ends up on the list of things I can't get into, right between the Harry Potter series and yoga.

There's a okay collection of religious paintings from the 16th century, which is what I'm most interested in seeing. There are a number of Monets which I'm sure look lovely reproduced on tote bags. The miniatures room supports my argument that dollhouses are wasted on the young. The new modern wing is very nice, but didn't really have anything that grabbed me.

I decided to leave when I overheard a guy looking at solid-color canvas say "I could've done that in an hour with a roller." Later I told Jill the story and she sneered "Yeah, well, you didn't." This led to a good old-fashioned session of reminding ourselves of why we went to art school. We were both in the SIM program and were in a class where someone submitted a project that consisted of getting on his bike and riding home. It's an education that left us uniquely qualified to explain that the emperor has no clothes and that's the point.

After two hours at the Art Institute, I walked over to the Field Museum. I didn't know what to expect and was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed it. There are several galleries of Native American art and artifacts, and a great exhibit on evolution.

I met Jill and Sara at their hotel, enjoying the irony of my visiting their city and staying in their building while they stay in a hotel (their apartment was still damaged from the plumbing incident earlier in the week) and we made a pilgrimage to Hot Doug's, the world-famous gourmet hot dog stand. We stood in line for 90 freakin' minutes and I ordered:
Duck fat fries: Good, but not worth the wait.
Classic Chicago style dog: Amazing, and worth the wait. Celery salt is made of pixie dust and laughter.
Smoked Mole Chicken Sausage with Jalapeno Mayonaise and Habanero-Jack Cheese: Quite good, but not as good as the classic dog, and I resented it for being my last sausage. I'd saved it for last because I knew it was spicy and I was afraid I'd ruin my palate.

I went back to the apartment for a disco nap before heading out to Irving Park to visit the ray of sunshine that is Craig. Craig and I are improv friends, and I've missed him since he moved out west. His new glasses are really cool, he has an awesome job as a scientist in a toothbrush factory, and his condo is a real grown-up house. He says hello to all of the Boston friends.

I had fun at the party and overslept on Sunday. I quickly got my things together and Jill and I took a trip to Kokorokoko, a vingtage clothing shop that our friend Sasha owns. (Sasha is also a SIM alum and was Live Girls.) This place is totally awesome, gnarly, like way cool, and other 80s cliches for "great". I bought a Pop Swatch and Jill bought a convertable duffel bag and in the car we both admitted that we each had an eye on the other's purchase before the decision was made.

I wasn't allowed to leave Chicago without trying deep dish pizza. We went to Edwardo's, which is not as famous as other restaurants but I was told had the best pizza. It was like a cheese and tomato sauce sandwich. I quite liked it and brought half of it home on the plane. Which leads me to home, which is where I am now. The pizza is gone.