Just like us, Meg lives in Chicago (Logan Square, too!) and writes about crafts, home, DIY and, in her words, sh*t that anyone can do (and we appreciate that). You can find her at Radical Possibility, but really, you should start with her recent side table makeover. Ahh-mazing.
I have many friends who live outside of Chicago who regularly say that, while they love to visit, they could just never live here (The weather! The politics! The smell of the trains!). And while they are kind of right about that last one, it’s okay if you don’t love it here. I’m sure your city is great, too. The thing is, Chicago, in the words of that guy from Love Actually, to me – you are perfect.
Chicago, I love you in the morning … Whether that morning is the kind where I don’t take my sunglasses off at a brunch consisting of only Longman & Eagle‘s Bloody Larry, or the kind of morning where I get my act together and do grown-up things like actually make it to the farmer’s market on time, I love you all the same.
… And in the afternoon … I love that we are at the point in the relationship where we can just lay in Palmer Square people-watching together, or stroll through the lush greenery of the Garfield Park Conservatory, and we don’t even have to talk. We’re just so comfortable together, I feel like you get me. Plus, every time I let you pick which beach we go to, you choose Montrose because they allow Lucille Austero to be off her leash there. It means a lot to me, how much you love animals.
I love you in the evening … When you are the perfect date. You open the door for me (okay, you technically do that for everyone else on the train too, because its an automatic function, but chivalry is chivalry). You let me pick the restaurant, and don’t put up a fight when I choose Chicago Diner again because I really love the vegan gyro. And when it comes time to the movie portion of our evening, I get to choose between Kubrick at Doc Films, art house flicks at Music Box, or a midnight showing of The Goonies at The Logan Theatre.
… And underneath the moon … Sure, you lay claim to Ferris Bueller, world class public art, and some of the best thrifting ever, but curled up on my couch with my family in my tiny, cheap apartment, Chicago, is when I love you most.
Thank you, Meg! You and us; we share the same love for Chicago. See more over at Radical Possibility.