Bisous
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My name’s Brigid and I blog over at Babbling Bridge. About anything and everything, really. My love for food. And trashy television. And the random nonsense of being the only 25-year-old who isn’t married/crafty/fashionable/working at her dream job.
Okay, I’m not the only gal w/ this problem. It just seems like it when I come across all these awesome blogs with pics of their latest home cooked meal or Pinterest project. I’m happy if I can muster up the energy to heat up a Hot Pocket and leave the house in the morning in an outfit that relatively matches.
So, please, check me out sometime, if only to feel better about yourself.
Now, onto the blog swap. I’ve never done one before, but when 20-Something Bloggers emailed me about the upcoming swap, I was intrigued. And then they announced the topic and I was all in – summer vacations.
Is there a more magical phrase than “summer vacation?” Me thinks not.
I’ve had my share of great vacations. My parents would pack up my sisters and I for a week every summer to various tourist destinations across the eastern seaboard. New York. Philly. Boston. DC. Been there, done that. All of them awesome, as only a vacation can be when you’re with your fam and your parents foot the bill. So what if we’re bringing PB&J’s into all the museums and staying at the Econo Lodge? A vacation is a vacation.
If asked to pick my favorite summer vacation memory, I couldn’t pick just one. There was the summer we went to DC and I almost threw up in the White House (my mom gave me her best Look and told me that vomit and secret service men did not mix). Then there was the time our hotel was a tad swanky and my dad didn’t trust me to not make a huge mess all over the kitchen. And I ended up eating my breakfast on the back of the toilet. In the bathroom (in my defense, I was like seven years old for these trips).
But one summer vacay that stands out in my memory would have to be 4th of July weekend in Chicago two summers ago.
For one, I was with my sisters, who are also my best friends and travel buddies. Secondly, I had been to Chi in the fall before, but never seen the Windy City in all her summer splendor. Thirdly, I was old enough to remember most of the deets. And to not be banished to the bathroom to eat my Froot Loops. My sister Maureen lives near Wrigleyville, so we were in prime position for our Friday Cubs game. We enjoyed some pong out on her back porch before heading to the game and scoring some tickets from a friendly neighborhood
Saturday we hit up Taste of Chicago for some Chi-style grubbin’ and outdoor music.
And what trip to Chicago would be complete without a visit to the Bean?
I don’t know about all this “Midwesterners are so nice” propaganda they try to throw at you. Never have I had more drunks barrel into me than at the Hangge Uppe. But I guess you can find those folks anywhere. What you can’t find in any old city is a hunkin’ plastic noodle. Not unlike the one I saw in Boston last week. Must’ve been one of Mayor Daly’s last acts in office, touring that noodle around his fine city. And really, who can blame him?
