Home again, home again.

Sloggity slog.

Oh, it was hard to leave Chicago. Mo was right; it's a beautiful city. I say that not only because it's true, but also, because Mo loves the acknowledgement that she is, as usual, right. One can hardly blame her.

The Art Institute was incredible. Shocking, really, how many masterpieces can be housed under a single roof--look at the Met and the PMA. The AIC was surprising and inspiring and gorgeous. They engraved some of the big names into the upper edge of the exterior of the building facade; I tried not to be unsettled by something the tour guide said: One section has all four names of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. For some reason, I found that troubling.

Word of Advice. If you go to the Billy Goat Tavern for their famous "cheezborgers," do not order a single. Double, at a bare minimum. Each patty is about three molecules thick. Tasty, but thin. And the chips are seriously salty, undoubtedly to provoke excessive quaffing of beverages, adult and otherwise. I'm just saying.

The roommate took some great pictures and yes, they will be inflicted upon you, my imaginary reader. So much more to follow on that.

And sadly, I am back on my diet. Thank God for the walking we did in Chi-town, because I ate like a freaking horse while I was there. I only gained two pounds, though. Yay, me!!!! But now.... [muffled sobbing] it's back to reality.

In my reality, my ass has its own zip code.