“Come and show me another city with lifted head singing so proud to be alive and coarse and strong and cunning.” – Carl Sandburg
We tasted Chicago this weekend and enjoyed 24 hours of wind-blown, gnocchi-flavored, irreverent fun.
We celebrated life in all of its delicious, silly, competitive, tasty, warm, witty glory so that, by the time we staggered into St. Josephat Church for mass Sunday morning, exhausted and disheveled, we had plenty to ponder.
Molly once had a teacher who described faith this way — we’re all in the same building, we’re just looking out different windows. I loved this analogy of the world’s religions and I thought of it as we chuckled our way through the Book of Mormon Saturday afternoon.
The play is silly, the talent superb.
Later, we swung through a playground on our way to a big Italian dinner and posed with a giant party of gangster clad Murder Mystery participants. Naturally.
A spontaneous slumber party developed at my sister’s new house because no one wanted to leave. We found extra pajamas, dressed a few couches and settled back to watch the most exciting game in the NCAA tournament so far. Go Marquette! Go! Go! Go! Go!
Sunday morning found Grandma hustling us all over to Ann Sather, a miraculous breakfast joint.
Chicago feels to us like an event every time we visit. We like the energy, the cool juxtaposition of ethnic charm and urban sophistication. Mostly, though, we loved our weekend in Chicago because we were able to enjoy all that with the best thing Chicago offers us–family.