What happened to days 2-5?

Um, so...I got kind of distracted by having fun in Chicago and Madison (slow wireless in my hotel plus my inability to use the mousepad on my laptop didn't help, either), and didn't keep up with my blogging. But, onward!

Days 2&3 of the workshop were fun. Going to Wrigley Field on Day 2 was more fun. I love baseball. I love being surrounded by friendly people who don't need the joy of baseball explained: the man beside us had surprised his bride of 18 years with tickets, the little boy with glasses in front of me wasted no time high-fiving me at the first Cubs home run. I love listening to the ebb and flow of the fans' chanting. Most of all, I love being with a crowd, in a place where you don't have to be quiet, where chomping on popcorn is welcomed, and where I don't have to worry about pissed-off patrons.

The workshop was really interesting. But by day 3, I was D-U-N done with conference-speak/schmoozing. I have determined that I am missing a gene; commonly known as the networking gene, it is found in development directors and most of the people at the workshop. The perfect weather outside didn't help, either, so once the workshop was over I hightailed it back to the hotel, dumped the software geek paperwork and made like a tourist in my jeans and sneakers, strolling through the Grant/Millennium Parks (which is which, by the way?) and along the waterfront. Spectacular. Saw Jersey Boys that night, and the drama of my attempts to get to the theater far outshone the drama of the show. Thanks, Broadway in Chicago, for giving me the wrong address, and thanks (seriously) to my I-Phone for showing me the way. As for the show, I don't get why everyone loves it so much, but I can't deny the music was awesome.

Thursday brought a full day of Chicago fun. I slept in, bought a duck for the Special Olympics Duck Race, and had lunch with a friend at Chicago Museum of Contemporary Art, which houses one of the coolest exhibitions I've ever seen. However, my attempts to describe it to people have been met with quizzical incomprehension, so I'm going to simply revel in the fact that I got to see it, and you didn't. Sorry. The Architectural Boat Tour was less than I'd hoped for, and I made a bit of a distance judgment when I thought the cab fare to the Museum of Science and Industry would be cheap. Not so. Also made an idiot out of myself by trying to give exact change to the bus driver on the way back, but hey, I was a tourist. I reserve the right to leave my brain at the hotel.

Friday brought lunch with a friend, and a road trip to Madison. But the big find of the day was Sirius XM Radio - On Broadway. I never realized there were so many obscure shows out there; and it's obvious why they were obscure. Lunch on the Terrace with the fantastic Andrew Taylor, author of The Artful Manager, then a stroll up State Street, then a Mallards game (well, sort of), followed by beer with another friend. Then, up early the next morning for the incredible Madison Farmer's Market. I can't help it; I compare all Markets to the Madison one, and they just don't stack up. For one thing, they are lacking the dozen or so cheese booths that feature samples. Lots of samples. Mmmm.

So, over the week, I got my ration of local cuisine, including deep dish pizza, brats, cheese curds and Spotted Cow, saw a bunch of friends from different walks of life, and remembered why I loved summer in Madison so much. It was a great break. Getting off the plane to icky humidity and the faint smell of manure was a rude welcome home, but I am ready to dive back into the fray. We'll see how long the refresh lasts.

Chicago, Day 1

A long day. That's really the only way to describe today. A long day of brainstorming exercises with the occasional longing glance out the window at the gorgeous Chicago shoreline.

But there's really no way I can complain. Not when I'm part of an effort that is truly grounded in both good intentions and a real desire to make the world better. It's not every day you can say that.

I truly think that intelligent conversation with smart people who check their pride and ego at the door is one of the best parts of being human. Anyone disagree?

Chicago, Day 0.5

Chicago has always held a special place in my heart. Which is odd, when you realize that I can count on one hand the times I've been here. If asked, I'll wax on about how much I love Chicago. All 12 hours that I've spent here. Well, maybe it was more than 12. There was that trip in grad school where we ate way too much pizza. My first business trip to see the Joffrey and stay in that fabulous apartment. Two years ago, Wicked. And today, the first 1/2 day of my longest stay in the 2nd City.

Hearkening back to my last disastrous trip via the air, this one was a breeze. Even the child sitting next to me, whom I just knew was going to scream for the duration of the trip, was well-behaved. A minor blip occurred when the woman next to me on the shuttle did her best to imitate a masticating cow as she munched her pretzels. But even that was not enough to dampen the fun.

Weather? Super cool. Like 80 degrees cool. Like jeans and t-shirt and a breeze in your hair cool.

Hotel? Ditto the coolness. Like, decorated in blue and green (not a speck of orange to be found), free wireless, Oxford English dictionary instead of the Bible cool.

Location? See above. On Wacker (which is just fun to say), on the river, in the middle of dozens of restaurants and steps from Michigan Ave, which is enjoying a special summer program of incredible gardens.

Live theater? Check. A wonderful, lush production of The Arabian Nights at Lookingglass, directed by Mary Zimmerman. This gorgeous production was only slightly marred by two things:

1. I was sitting next to the father of one of the actresses. That was great until about 10 seconds into the show when the first of her many, ahem, steamy moments arrived. Cue the awkwardness.

2. The pacing bordered on self-indulgent, with some veeeerrrrry long pauses, and one interminable montage of stories that went on about 5 minutes too long.

But those are small details! It was a wonderful, lavish night of theater, and makes me realize how much I miss having a real theater scene right next door.

The night was clear and cool as I walked back up Michigan, accompanied by the jingle of cups being shaken and change being requested. This made it harder to enjoy the skyscape and the lighted buildings, but I find myself, as it often the case of my first night in the city, energized. In 7 hours today, I saw more people, representing more cultures, countries and ideas that I will in a month in my hometown. Tomorrow I'll dive into the geeky world of software design. And hope that I get a chance to go outside and visit the city a bit more.

Flashback to the 90's

While moving furniture this past weekend, I was forced to empty my hope chest of all of my photo albums. That, of course, meant that I had look through a few of them and experience the inevitable pangs of loneliness and nostalgia as I looked back on times when I had lots of friends nearby. Nearby meaning in the dorm room next to me. But aside from strengthening my resolve to get back to my college weight (which wasn't all that great then, but better than now), and reminding me just how long my hair used to be, there were a few moments of laugh-out-loud recall:

A picture of yours truly in a high-school one-act (I think it was called Of Widows and Vegetables - I can't believe I remember that!), wearing purple tights, a white floral prom-type dress and yellow lace up high heels. That character's name was Wench. Priceless. And no, that one's staying in the album, thank you very much.

A photo of me and my roommates, dressed up as if we were going to a college dance. We were going to the grocery store. We laughed for hours.

Two of my friends and I in our "bitch pants" which we bought in England. We thought were so hot.

But the best, by far, was this one:

My fabulous Geneva apartment with...wait for it...a giant Val Kilmer poster next to the calendar. And not Top Gun Val. Island of Dr. Moreau Val. Genius. I'd forgotten about my Val Kilmer phase. I always prided myself on being an Iceman fan rather than a Maverick fan. Even then my intuition about Tom Cruise was dead on.

It was a fun little journey back in time. I should move furniture more often.

not only am I a rock music idiot...

...but I don't get jazz either. Tonight, I saw a lovely concert full of, according to those who know, virtuosic piano and saxophone musicianship. Excellent. Too bad I don't know what I'm supposed to be hearing that is so amazing.

I've found most jazz concerts to be full of sagely nodding intellectuals, bopping along to a beat that I will swear DOES NOT EXIST. Tonight, I enjoyed a piece called Chrysalis (I think it was called that - there wasn't a program to tell us so we had to rely on the musicians to tell us what they were playing), but only because I knew it was called Chrysalis and I could try to paint the image of butterflies and cocoons in my head. I enjoyed when piano and sax would chase each other up and down the scales, or toss a note back and forth like it was a ping pong ball. The audience clapped after those sections. Ok, I get it. That was cool.

But I know I missed the point. I spent most of my intellectual power wondering why I liked the sound of the soprano sax so much. Aren't you impressed that I knew it was a soprano sax? I only knew it because we asked someone who knows these things. But I did like that instrument; it's pitch and tone hit my ears just right.

Anyway, the nice thing is I'm not going to lose any sleep over this. I don't get jazz. That's ok. I'm still worthy of life. Even my jazz loving friends say so.

Confessions of a rock music idiot...

There was a time in my life when being laughed at or ridiculed in any way would have crushed my tender spirit and sent me crying into the hummus-colored bathrooms of my elementary, middle and/or high schools. Thankfully, I got over it and now probably spend more time laughing at myself than everyone else does.

That's why I'm not afraid to make this statement: I do not, nor to I really care to, have intimate knowledge of dozens and dozens of bands and their songs, whether they are local, regional or national. I can't name every song written by the angsty bands of the 90's. Nor can I tell you what band is playing at the local dive. When I first came to Arkansas, I shocked my colleagues by not knowing who Al Green is. And when a certain famous drummer recently visited our small town, I had to look him up on Google. Yes, I knew the song The Weight, but only because my good pals sang it a capella in college. (It's a great song, by the way. I'm glad I know it.)

My music comes to me via friends and inertia. For example, U2 and Dave Matthews are around so much that I happen to like their music. Some of my favorite tunes/artists were introduced to me by my previously-mentioned harmonizing buddies. And I get to explore all kinds of great music that isn't rock through my job. (The Silent City by Kayhan Kalhor and Brooklyn Rider, by the way, is completely awesome)

So it's with no regret that I proclaim myself a rock music idiot. I'm not interested in being educated, except when my job requires it. That sad, self-conscious kid who would rather have died before admitting she didn't know the latest New Kids song is long gone. Send good songs and artists my way and I might listen to them. Or I might not. But it will not hurt me when you drop your jaw and say theatrically "you don't know who (insert brilliant band here) is?"

Sorry. It's nothing personal. I know there are lots of you out there who know lots more than I do. And I humbly bow to your expertise.

Thanks, humanity...

I will admit I've been a little antsy in my small Arkansas town/city lately. Thoughts of bigger cities, and my friends and family so far away, have set my sense of peace and contentment on edge.

Tonight, though, a lovely group of people gave me a special gift.

First, some context. For all those marketing/PR types out there, you know what I mean when I say that there is nothing worse than a public event to which no one shows up. You shrink inside, and your self-worth goes right out the window. Tonight, a photo shoot for our season brochure, could have been one of those nights.

But, one by one, they trickled in. A pair of our dedicated volunteers, a few staff members and their friends, the random person who heard about the photo shoot on twitter. Even people on the street, families out for a walk with their kids on a warm spring evening, joined in.

They waited patiently for nearly an hour, then spent another 45 minutes walking in circles on cue, and then patiently waiting again for us to say "ok, folks, just once more!" Not one of them left. They did whatever we asked of them. They kept smiling and laughing and when we were done, many of them thanked us. Several of them didn't even know why they were with us, but were content to sit with strangers and enjoy themselves.

I'm not sure the same sense of easy conversation and laughter would have existed in a bigger city setting. Certainly the air wouldn't have smelled so luscious, laden as it was with the scents of spring flowers; the light wouldn't have been so pure, glowing from the sun hidden below the horizon. Maybe the sense of fun and friendship would have been the same, but I wonder.