Day 7 and 8 OR I'm Pretty Sure I'd Rather Shower With A Live Badger Than Watch Sex and the City

Chicago... the city of lights. We rolled into the home of the pizza made in deep dishes around 10 o'clock on Sunday night and immediately hit up a TGI Fridays for some local fare and flair. Danny, the peppy bartender, was all aghast and atwitter that two globetrotters such as ourselves we right here... right now... sitting at his bar... eating hamburgers... mulling over how bad the Bears suck. Afterward we met Tasha at her place and crashed on a nest of couch cushions, somehow rendering the best night of sleep we've had in weeks.

A recipe for a full day in Chicago:

1 Tasha Bruinsma... so dutch

1 giant mirror bean in the middle of a city park

3 big effing bowls of soup from the Soup Box

7 to 8 miles of walking around slack-jawed because the buildings are all big and stuff

2 deep (so deep!) dish pizzas with Lucia

1 nap

Shake, consume, try not to hurl from the overload of wicked BA-edness

It seemed to be a good idea at the time that we drive through the night to Denver. It just made sense. Until we started driving. And driving. And refilling the gas tank. And driving. And holy crap more driving. 17 hours later, some witch doctor somewhere too a voodoo doll of Shelby Woo the Subaru, allowed a rabid shiatsu to gnaw on it, then flushed it down a truck stop toilet. Check engine light went on. Oil started leaking. Serpentine belt decided to go for a field trip to the back of the engine block. 90 miles from Denver, when all this went down, my blood pressure shot through the roof. Quick as a flash, Chandler sang some Lady Gaga, put her feet up on the dash, and took a nap.

Shelby made it, and is in the shop right now turning her head and coughing. Pray that she makes it out alright.


Day 9 - Denver. So dank!