Sea Cow in the Making

I started swimming laps about nine years ago, when Brian and I signed up for our first sprint distance triathlon. The year prior, I'd taken an adult swim class with a friend who was trying to conquer her fear of the water, so I improved my technique a bit since my days of YMCA swim lessons. But I never thought about swimming for exercise until the triathlon. Then I thought of it in terms of a survival tactic, because as long as I didn't drown in the first leg of the race, I could live to do the bike and run portions.

Now that I'm pregnant, however, I really enjoy being able to swim efficiently. And I have a feeling the bigger I get, the more I will appreciate the weightlessness I get to experience in the water, not to mention it's one form of exercise that doesn't cause me to sweat profusely. Even though by August I will probably look like a manatee in the park district pool, I hope to still swim.

This reminds me of my favorite comedian, Jim Gaffigan, and his jokes about the manatee. http://comedians.comedycentral.com/jim-gaffigan/videos/jim-gaffigan---manatees

Party Parents in the House

Very early Thursday morning (we're talking 4 a.m.), I woke up to what I thought at first was Brian's alarm clock going off, tuned to an annoying pop radio station. After a minute, I realized it was our teenage neighbors and their friends hanging out in their backyard. This family lives two houses down, but on the block north of ours, so their back yard is about fifty feet away from ours. This is not the first time their kids have kept us awake. They evidently have at least two teenage children, and apparently enjoy being the "party house" among their kids' friends.

Two years ago, we first noticed the party scene at this house because they have a pool, and consequently a steady stream of high school kids jumping in and out of it, squealing (really, one girl sounded like a pig being chased), nearly every night of the summer. Mercifully, the parties would die down at 11 p.m. on weeknights. But trying to go to bed before that was futile, even with our windows closed. Then one day around Thanksgiving, we read in the Chicago Tribune that our fun-loving neighbors hosted a party at which 50+ teenagers were cited for underage drinking at their house. Yet the parents got off scot-free because they said they were asleep the whole time the party was going on and didn't know the kids were drinking. Are you kidding me? Come on, people, unless you're using a horse tranquilizer as a sleep aid, I highly doubt you could sleep through the sounds of a basement full of drunk teens. At the same time this story came out, I read about several other stories of parents providing alcohol to their high school aged kids.

As a soon-to-be parent, and a former teen who was by no means perfect, I wonder at what point did some parents start feeling they needed to be "cool" and "fun?" Why do some parents need to be their kids' friends, and not their parents? And what are our neighbors teaching their kids about responsibility and obeying the law? When I was in high school, my dad was already 60 years old, and my mom was in her mid-50s. They were older than my friends' parents, but because they'd already raised seven kids, they were probably wiser. While I felt at the time that they were out of touch (they listened to the classical music station!), I did respect them for the most part. They knew what was up, and though they weren't strict with me, they also weren't stupid. By the end of my senior year, I had shown them that I could hold down a good job and manged to get into a decent school, so they eased up on my curfew and gave me quite a bit of freedom. Never, ever would they have bought me alcohol or hosted a party at our house that allowed drinking.

Anyway, now it seems there are way too many "cool moms and dads" out there who wear their North Face jackets and their Uggs (the moms, not the dads) and look as if they wish they were still 18 and their kids' best friend. I like to think these are people who peaked in high school and are raising their kids to believe that high school is the pinnacle of one's life? I hope not. And I hope they realize that Amy Poehler character in "Mean Girls" was a charicature. http://video.aol.com/video-detail/mean-girls-cool-mom/3013608018

Chicago just keeps getting better, IMHO

I had a really good "Chicago" day today. I spent the first half of the day volunteering at a Chicago 2016 event in Millenium Park. As luck would have it, the weather was incredible - blue skies, 85 degrees, and just enough breeze off the lake to keep me from sweating profusely in my Olympic bid T-shirt. The event celebrated about 150 Chicago Public School students who participated in Conservation Corps, a program of the mayor's office that requires the students to set up environmentally friendly activities in their schools (recycling, composting, encouraging teachers to bike to work, etc.).

Mayor Daley spoke during the program, which seemed to impress the kids. I was impressed that he looked so calm - I'm used to seeing him on TV, red faced and yelling at reporters. I thought it was a nice event, but a fellow volunteer's comment really made me appreciate the day. He said, "Isn't it cool that this whole younger generation will think of recycling and conservation as second nature? It's just a part of their lives." Let's hope so. Someone's got to make up for all the one-gallon plastic milk jugs my family went through in the 70s and 80s. After the program, the kids got lunch from an organic food caterer, which they ate on the lawn of the Pritzker Pavillion, my favorite part of the park, while a concert for senior citizens took place in the theater. It was quite a vast representation of ages and neighborhoods, set to ... Big Band music.

After the event, I crossed the new pedestrian bridge over Monroe Street to check out the new Modern Wing of the Art Institute of Chicago. Because admission is free this week, it was fairly crowded. Okay, it was really crowded. But it's good to know that many people are interested in the museum, and maybe some of them - myself included - will come back again when they have to pay, or buy a membership, or support it in some other way. Like the man who seemed to be following me into every gallery, commenting to his friend on every photograph and painting with great authority. He wore a white linen suit (really) and had a ponytail (really). His companion said nothing in reply to all of his comments on Matisse, Picasso and Dali, and I can only assume it's because any kind of reply would encourage FURTHER COMMENTARY.

Aside from that guy, it was a nice visit.

Celebrity Quote of the Day:

"I have to laugh about this, or else I'll cry."

- Kate Gosselin of John & Kate Plus Eight on her life in supermarket tabloid hell

Funny, that's how I feel about her haircut.

Really, I have a hard time feeling sorry for this woman. When you voluntarily put yourself and your children (and your marriage) on national television, it's pretty clear there's a part of you that wants to be famous. With that, in this day and age, comes tabloid coverage. I mean, come on lady, who'd you expect to cover you, Vanity Fair?

Why are you still famous?

There are people in this world whose undying fame is baffling to me. Pamela Anderson is one. Okay, okay, I know she was actually an "actress" on Baywatch at one point, but what has she done in the last 10+ years besides dress like a 20-year-old on spring break? (Or, at this fundraiser in Venice -- what the f is going on there?)

I've been having really bizarre, senseless dreams since I've been pregnant. I hope to God this image doesn't pop up in one this week.

So I made it through almost a whole season of "The Real Housewives of New York City." Those women were materialistic, catty and somehow able to hold my attention more than the ladies of Orange County and Atlanta. I had a hard time looking away.

Now there's a new bunch of housewives, this time from New Jersey. Dear God, the accents. The collagen. And did I mention the accents? I only watched the preview episode and decided not to invest time in this franchise.

But I can't help but notice that this woman:

bears an uncanny resemblance to this person:

...child actor Jerrod Rushton (he was Billy, the best friend in "Big"). Were they not about 15 years apart in age (Jared Preston would now be 35, according to IMDB), I would swear this is a child actor turned Jersey reality star.

Is it hard to use a porta-potty when pregnant?

There are two music festivals this summer that under ordinary circumstances I would love to go to - Pitchfork Music Festival and Lollapalooza - that offer one day passes. Pitchfork is in July and Lolla is in early August. We got a one-day pass to Pitchfork last year and just went for the afternoon/evening, like four hours, saw four acts and came away with at least one band that I still really enjoy (The Hold Steady). It was a well spent $30, if you ask me. The people watching alone was worth the money. This year the Flaming Lips are playing on Sunday, and they're taking requests, which could be fun.

I'm trying to wait until the last minute to buy tickets, just to see what kind of pregnant woman I will be...the kind that has all sorts of energy and looks great in a sundress, or the kind that is whiny, bloated and hates the heat and crowds. Time will tell, I suppose. Logic tells me to just hold off.

I'm gonna hug him and pet him and call him George!

I ran into my neighbor, Roseanne, yesterday and told her we're expecting. Like most people, she asked how far along I am. I said, "17 weeks."

She looked down at my stomach (which is not exactly bulging, especially since I had a loose T-shirt on) and asked, "Seventeen weeks?! What are you having...a mouse?"

This is one of those exchanges that, if I think of it only in a cartoony sense, it makes me chuckle.

Ode to the Library

One of my favorite things about being unemployed is that I've learned to use more of our suburb's free services, like the library. I love collecting books and filling the built-in bookshelves my father-in-law recently made for us, but I hate having books that I will never want to loan out or want to revisit. And, though I love nothing more than supporting a good independent bookstore (watch for a future post, Ode to The Book Cellar in Lincoln Square - wine and books!), our public library has what I need about 99 percent of the time.

This morning, I stopped in to see if they had any recent baby name books. This just seems like one of those items that should be borrowed, not bought. They had at least thirty books on their shelves, most of which claimed to be the "best ever!" (Come on, list makers, you can't all have come up with the "best in the world.") They even had a handful on Celtic and Irish names.

On my way out, I noticed the library staff was moving some of the CD and DVD collections, so I stopped to flip through some. In 90 seconds of browsing the "Rock" section, I picked up three CDs:

The White Stripes, Icky Thump - These two seem like they'd be hard to have a conversation with, but I really love their creativity. Meant to buy this when it came out, and *poof!* there it was, free for the borrowing.

The Who, Who's Next - The Who reminds me of my childhood. In fact, my siblings instantly imitate the dance I used to do "You Better You Bet" when I was six or seven when they hear the song. I was never inclined to go out and buy or even download their greatest hits, but I catch myself singing along to their songs on the radio. ("Behind Blue Eyes" in particular.) As I write this, I realize "Substitute" is not on here and I need to get that into my collection - love the lyrics on that one.

Nirvana, Nevermind - This album came out when I was a senior in high school. It's just a really memorable, solid collection of songs that makes me think of my last year at home and all the pointless hanging out we did back then. I used to own it, or a cassette copy of it, but it sadly drowned in the big apartment flood of '97. I've missed you, baby grabbing the dollar.

When someone recently suggested borrowing CDs from the library, I was picturing a selection including the soundtrack to "The Lawrence Welk Show" and multiple copies of An Intimate Evening with Anne Murray. Now I realize much of the CDs in the library's collection are mostly donated by people like me, who are trying to declutter their CD collections in the age of the iPod.

How do I feel?

As a newly pregnant person, I'm finding one of the most popular questions for people to ask me (after "when are you due?") is, "how do you feel?" I usually just say "fine" or "can't complain."

What I really want to say is, "hungover."

I get headaches, I often wake up with my head in a fog, I'm nauseous and I crave foods that are bad for me. The only difference here is that I didn't get to be drunk. On the plus side, I didn't make an ass of myself the night before. (Or, maybe I did, but I remember doing it.)

I think I'll just stick to saying "can't complain."

"Aunt Jenny, do you live in 'the Big City'?"

These are my nieces, Madeline (9) and Catherine (7), with whom I got to share a rare evening a couple of weeks ago showing them Milennium Park. They live in the Milwaukee area. This picture is quintessential M & C - Madeline wants to be an actress/"rock star" and Catherine is an athletic goofball. I think Madeline thought I might capture what could potentially be a head shot she could hand out to talent agents. Maybe we can Photoshop the bunny ears.

After The Bean (official name "Cloudgate"), I took them south to Crown Fountain, which, as demonstrated by this candid photo, they'd never seen before. They were freaked out by the people "moving" (it's a video, so the faces are in motion - blinking, smiling, etc.). But when the water came out, it was priceless.

Ouch, Lance. Just ouch.

http://tiny.cc/Y7XKz

Lance Armstrong Blames Sheryl Crow's Biological Clock for Split

I'm so hot and cold when it comes to Lance Armstrong. On one hand, I love what he's done to raise awareness (and funds) for cancer research. And he's a role model for guys everywhere who think they can get into shape by riding a bike - not easy to do unless you're logging hundreds of miles a week, but if it gets them off the ouch, good for them. But this recent news about him blaming Sheryl Crow's biological clock for their breakup is just cold, considering the fact that he's now with some 20-something girl from his staff who is now pregnant with his child. If the pregnancy was an accident/miracle, fine, but do you need to publish - and publicize - that you didn't want kids with Crow? And what about your future child, who will now know that you didn't want to have any more kids?

I'm not a huge fan of Sheryl Crow's music - she's okay, not great - but this is just rude. Good for her for going ahead and adopting. But she might want to rethink the outfit in the above photo - are those overalls?

world's worst networker

Being unemployed for more than six months has meant attending quite a few networking events - luncheons, cocktail receptions, panel discussions, you name it, I've paid $35 to $50 to attend it. Sometimes they're worthwhile, other times I inadvertently sit next to the wrong person. Like a woman with whom I already interviewed and have been rejected by. Or the guy who may have great contacts, but has such bad breath that I wonder if his contacts avoid in-person meetings with him.

Sometimes I manage to find the wrong person at a cocktail reception. Like the other night, I was at an event hosted by my alma mater and was seeing a lot of old classmates. From across the (poorly lit) reception, I spotted a guy I'd had a lot of classes with, who also knows my husband, but whom I hadn't seen in awhile. I enthusiastically walk up to him and say, "Hey, how are you?!" He looks down at my nametag and reads my last name(s) out loud, smiling. I make small talk about the keynote speaker and his organization, which had to do with the Olympics. Then he tells me how he's been to all the past Olympics around the world and is hoping to get to London. Somehow I finally realized HE IS NOT WHO I THOUGHT HE WAS. I'm talking to a total stranger, and now that I am closer to him I realize he does not have the red hair my classmate had. I look around the room and mumble something about having to find someone in particular and slowly back away.

As we're leaving, I point the guy out to my husband and say, "I thought that guy was P." Brian laughs and says, "Did you go up to him and start talking to him?" I reply, "Of course I did."

I will never find a job this way.