happy happy hour

I got to enjoy one of my very first happy hours since joining the workforce tonight! For the past couple of years, I've either been sitting on a plane sipping nothing more than complimentary tomato juice or stuck on the Kennedy fighting rush hour traffic, probably drinking day-old diet coke from the console. Tonight, since I had to be in the city for Victor H's vet appointment, I got to join my friends at Sheffields, a classic Wrigleyville establishment with a great outdoor patio. The weather's been so weird this June we weren't sure it would be a go, but lo and behold, the weather held out and I finally got to indulge in one of the few wonderful weekly rituals of adulthood: happy hour!

Here's GD and I, enjoying our elusive post-work week cocktails with friends:

(Sadly, my happiness quickly turned into sleepiness, and I fell asleep sitting upright a few hours later. Hey, at least I gave it the ol' 'college try!')

summer is coming! finally...maybe...sort of

The last two days were spent in leisurely pursuit of the perfect summer weekend: baseball, good food, cold beer, fireworks, and a nice long stroll in the woods. Even though it was rainy and cold here in Chicagoland, we didn't let that dampen our fun (pardon the super-lame pun). I'm trying to fully savor each free moment and lazy Sunday afternoon, since I know they will be few and far between before long!

I went with GD and his fam last night to a Kane County Cougars team, the local feeder team for the Oakland A's. GD's dad was generous enough to buy a box for the whole crew, which was incredibly nice, especially since it cold and rainy...and all you can eat and drink food and bevs didn't hurt either. I have to say, though, the highlight of the night wasn't the baseball but the Zooperstars!, a motley crew of mascots including Harry Canary and Beary Bonds. I was a little disappointed tho- woulda loved to have seen this guy when GD and I were at the Phoenix Suns a few months back:

http://www.zooperstars.com/Characters/Shaquille_OSeal.asp

Even though the suburbs usually elicit an irrepressible groan and eye-roll, GD's parent's place in Wayne, Illinois is both peaceful and beautiful. It's a tiny town on the outskirts of suburbia, and instead of Walgreens and cookie-cutter homes, the neighborhood is replete with prairies, creeks, and forests.

GD and I spend this afternon hiking along the marshes. It was beautiful, but I made the bad choice of wearing my new ann taylor sandals, which badly need broken in. By the end of the hike I was hobbling barefood on my tippy toes since my heels were covered with blisters. I always have to fight new sandals to break them in, however...and while they may have won the battle, I will (I must!) win the war.

Sadly, due to my fashion fau pax, we had to take the road more traveled by...

But it was still quite pretty!

book it!

Today, GD and I headed to the loop to check out the Printer's Row Lit Fest, the largest book fair in the midwest this summer. (GD standing for human Garbage Disposal, since at any given meal, he consumes most of my food food & leftovers).

Although the book fair is any grad student's dream come true, GD and I are trying to practice fiscal restraint, since he's recently unemployed and we're both heading into loads of debt this fall. So, we walked around and gazed at all the pretty books and posters, but collected free bookmarks instead of books:

Plus, for me, shopping in used bookstores is a skill and an art, requiring shelves upon shelves of deliciously musty books, as well as ample space to sit and to sort tales of loves lost from cookbooks and poetry so I can figure out which of my newfound friends are keepers. At the bookfair, people crowded around the tables like pigs at a trough, making it difficult to fully enjoy a good browse.

Heading out of the fair, though, I discovered a tent filled with a book-lover's dream come true: books of all types for $1 apeice!

I was even more delighted to discover that this magical station was being run by a local non-profit organization, Open Books, which uses all profits from its sales to fund its various literacy programs around Chicago. Who could pass up such a win-win?

Sadly, however, I had a couple of beauties picked out, but only 4 quarters to spare...until this kindly gentleman came along to the rescue

Thanks to GD, I purchased Cider House Rules by one of my favorite authors, John Irving, as well as classic The Feminine Mystique by Betty Friedan. I don't personally consider myself a feminist, but I do think it's important to understand the remarkable women, sociological context, and movement that enabled me to do things I take for granted, like go to grad school and have a career.

(You can't see it, but the original pricetag on Feminine Mystique is only $1.50...this book is truly an American classic!)

Also, hopefully, in addition to volunteering for the annual Newberry Library Booksale, I will get a chance to volunteer for Open Books...what an incredible organization!

http://www.open-books.org/programs.php

he's just not that into you- the grad school version

Sitting by the phone- or in this age of mobile connectivity, walking with the phone- and waiting.



Waiting.


Staring at the computer screem, hoping that pressing "Refresh" once more will somehow evoke a magic wand and-Poof!-all your wishes will be granted.


Scurrying out to the post after breakfast, lunch, and dinner, waiting to unwrap, like Charlie and his Chocolate, your very own Golden Ticket.



Yet far worse than the three agonizing days of waiting for that cute-eyed boy from the bar last Saturday to call like he promised is the admissions process for dental (and presumably medical) school. Seven months later, one of my nearest and dearest is spending all of his free time (and much of mine) staring willfully at his phone and inbox, hoping to telepathically elicit a voice uttering the magic words: You're in.





These schools are teases. Like a debonair gentleman with a mischevious grin, the school invites you in for an interview in the autumn. The leaves are falling, the air is crisp, and you stride onto campus with a glean in your eye and sa spring in your step. The interview was much like a first date: palms sweaty, you spoke quickly and tried to fill the awkward silences with jovial pleasantries. Your interviewer, posessing all the rules to The Game and boasting the upper hand, looks slightly bored and blase. In interviews as in love, the one who cares less has the upper hand. Unfair, but true.

Yet, you were clever- you were. You verbally tangoed with the best of them, and you could see that your interviewer was finally wowed. Sparks flew, and as you departed with a cheerful smile and a wave, you just knew he would call.




2 days later, nothing. It's the standard 48 rule, though, so you brush it off as formality. Don't hate the player, hate the game, right?




2 weeks later- nothing.



2 months. Big. Fat. Nothing.





Your hopes all but dashed, you scan the AADSASwebsite like so many Facebook pages, scouring for any sign that he's moved on without you.




Nothing. Nothing but a meaningless update: "Under review," which is quite cruel, actually, because it delays a jarring but necessary realization for moving on with your life:




He's (and they're) Just Not That Into You.





The difference, of course, is that the prospective dental student can't simply shovel in loads of Ben & Jerry's or work it out in a sangria-fueled dance with a bunch of supportive girlfriends. It's their life, and their vocation on the line. In my humble opinion, seven months of putting life on hold is nothing less than ridiculous. Are these people sadists? Heartless? Simply slow-moving? After seven months, if you're just not that into me- just say it already!






But the truth is, there's still a significant chance that these anxiety-ridden wanna-be dentists could still get an acceptance. Hope is not yet lost, at least not until April 1st. But really, to all my friends out there still awaiting letters from law, grad, dent, and med schools-- let's all put down the cells and close Gmail for just a moment. Try to remember who we were before we got into this grad school cycle that's taken over our lives and turned us into a twentysomething equivalent of boy-crazed seventh graders. Time to say to those omnipotent, faceless admissions councils across the country that we're just not that into you!

(Ok that's not even remotely close to being true...but still, a girl's gotta try, right? Bring on the mint chocolate chip!)