Felicia No Capecia
Thursday, April 29th, 2004It’s Thursday afternoon and it’s hotter than H-E-double hockey sticks in my office right now. Windows are open all around me but I don’t feel much of a breeze. It’s very windy outside but the wind just doesn’t feel like coming in here to relieve me of this torture. It’s bad enough that I have to work inside all day when the weather is so nice, and I can’t even get a breeze?
I feel I should check in with my blog fanatics (all two of you) to give you some insight into my life as of late. I’ve been busy with my hectic job and freelance assignments as well as my ever-packed social schedule (ha!). Bob and I went out with John and Ron last Friday night. We started out at the Bar Louie on Halsted and Randolph. I became quick friends with our waitress who treated us to a couple of free shots of liquor. We took a cab to an Italian bar hole-in-the-wall, Richards, located on Grand/Milwaukee/Halsted. Bob had been there before and thought I’d like the Italian-American décor, which consisted of pictures of mobsters and an Italian flag. I noticed a “Touch of Italy” sign on the wall, which was an annual summer event on Taylor Street. The jukebox was full of Louie Prima, my favorite. After too many shots of Sambuca, we stumbled next door to Emmitt’s where John had a hard time standing still. His drunken sailor imitation was perfect, as he swayed from side to side, bumping into Ron and me, then Ron, then me…you get the picture. Bob was the most sober of the bunch and called it a night for us. He and I walked (well, he walked, I barely put one foot in front of the other) the few blocks to my apartment.
The next morning I awoke in my clothes from the previous night. The sunlight poured in through the blinds. I could barely open my swollen eyelids when I noticed Bob wearing his jacket and walking out the door. It was only 8 am, where the heck was he going? “I’m going to get your car,” he said. My car, I thought? My car’s parked out in front! Then I remembered that I drove to Bar Louie and my car was at a meter at Washington and Halsted. I got out of bed to drive with him so he didn’t have to take a cab. I approached my new black Steven heels and was trying to put my left foot in its shoe when Bob asked me what I was doing. “I think you should put on your flip flops instead.” He was right, I can barely walk as it is let alone walk completely hung over in high heels. I was hung over like a dog all day Saturday but managed to last through Irina’s 5-hour bridal shower in the afternoon. I enjoyed lots of tasty Russian food, but steered clear of the wine and gulped down bottle after bottle of water. It was very nice but I was way too tired. I’m not the young chicken I use to be.
My social schedule this week has consisted of my going home to watch the Cubs each night. It was interesting to watch them on Tuesday night in my living room while Bob was laid out on my bed watching the Sox. Have you ever had two TV’s on at the same time in a studio apartment? Yeah, it ain’t easy concentrating on the Cubs when all I can hear are the hillbilly Sox announcers, “He gone!” Has anyone ever told Hawk and DJ that that’s not correct English?! It just drives me crazy!
I’m also in the process of planning a work function, Mother’s Day dinner, and my father’s retirement dinner party for next month. Dad is finally retiring on May 14 after many years of promising that he would. If in two weeks he leaves his job, walks to his car, and lights up a joint (as he joked he would), then I’ll know it’s really over. My dad’s been on the police force for over 30 years. I think it’s time to hang up the gun and enjoy a less stressful life.