A warm embrace for chaos; my life and this entry are no exception

As I was flipping through Self magazine (not my usual cup of tea; too self-helpy) waiting for my highlight appointment yesterday (looks great; thanks for asking), I came across an article entitled "Embrace the Chaos," which discussed the mental health benefits for busy women of "just letting go" of certain things like a messy house or missed appointments or social engagements, etc.

This was an appealing suggestion to me because:

NYC July 17-21, Columbia SC August 4-6, Cleveland OH August 8-10, Minneapolis MN August 11-12, Louisville KY August ?-?, Minneapolis August ?-?, El Paso September 5-9, Columbia SC September 14-19, Dallas TX September 19-21, Cancun September 28-October 2, La Jolla CA October 12-17 + work deadlines + Junior League obligations / my poor neglected boyfriend x OCD's with apartment-cleanliness and gym attendance = omg how am I ever going to make time for Target's latest Botkier launch much less *maintain the illusion of sanity... then my brain exploded and I died. I never was good at math.

So I'm going to follow their advice: embrace the chaos, forgive myself for a **messy apartment, keep a carry-on bag packed with the essentials and pray for some Zen. Who, btw, do you pray to for Zen? Jesus? Or, like, Buddha?

(Observation: Zen is much easier to obtain at my parents house, which is surrounded by a protective bubble from my obligations a thousand miles away, after a full moon and a desert rainstorm. Unfortunately, Zen collected here will undoubtedly be washed away once I arrive at O'Hare later this evening.)

On a separate note, I bought these incredible Jeffrey Campbell tall black leather boots yesterday - so tall they almost (almost!) go over the knee. Perhaps Zen can be obtained through shopping?

*Coffee

** Obvs I will be employing a cleaning service

Speaking of Lincoln Square...

...see it featured in Crain's Chicago Business

Fun fact: Alderman Schulter is the owner of Louie, the (in)famous marmalade tabby that haunts our neighborhood and courts Milly and River from the other side of the window. He is known for lounging on strangers' front porches and in their houses and otherwise making himself at home wherever he goes - he is a real Lincoln Square institution.

I heart Lincoln Square

My neighborhood is absolutely gorgeous right now - the huge trees lining my street are bright green and everyone has their lawns and porches filled with flowers and potted plants. I make myself take a few minutes every day just to look at everything and contemplete how pretty it is. My mind is usually racing with work and other thoughts and if I'm not careful, I can make it to the train or run my errands and back without ever lifting my eyes off the pavement in front of me - a crime this time of year in a city that's bleak and barren and essentially uninhabitable most of the time. I don't mean to say, of course, that I don't miss Texas, but this is why I still live here.

(I live in the lesser-known "Lincoln" neighborhood of Chicago: Lincoln Square. The Square is second, of course, to Lincoln Park - the trendy, busy neighborhood immediately north of downtown and crowded with the immediately-post-college set. I used to call Lincoln Park home, actually, when I was attending DePaul and didn't know any better. Granted, there were some beautiful parts of LP, and good restaurants and shopping, but I was over the scene - way over - in about two seconds. Too bad it took me two years to figure that out!)

My little pitch for Lincoln Square and an observation: life is good.

This isn't what it looks like!

Items in my shopping cart at Target:

• 2 liter bottle of Smirnoff
• 2 liter bottle of Clorox bleach
• String bikini
• Spanx
• Deodorant

The vodka is for our 4th of July party Bloody Mary bar, the bleach is for my whites (they were sold out of smaller bottles) but I think it just looked to the cashier like I was having a really bad day.

Matters of the Heart... Burn.

Want to hear about my decidedly un-glamorous problem? Of course you do. I have been experiencing icky, icky heartburn pretty consistently for the last three weeks or so. First of all, I am appalled whenever I suffer an ailment like this because I consider heartburn to be an old person's health issue and I am a young lithe 26. And second, I am very particular and am really kind of insulted when I experience certain indignities, like, I'm just too pretty to have heartburn, do math, or have to do something really icky like go to the Currency Exchange.

Obvs, it's either stress or diet-related (or both, I suppose, but I generally don't feel stressed) and tragically, the only thing I know I consume consistently on a daily basis is... coffee. And omg, I refuse to believe or accept that coffee might be the culprit. On the other hand, I've been so afraid to trigger the heartburn that instead of cutting the coffee I've stopped eating anything even remotely offensive (plain bagel with cream cheese? too risky) and have inadvertently dropped a few pounds. On the other hand, this isn't completely a bad thing because you can't be too rich or too skinny, right? On the other hand, I'm not one to ignore blatant health problems and I can't live the rest of my life popping Tums, right? How pedestrian.

Anyway, ew. Any advice?

So Happy About Blogland!

I have been tagged by the lovely Kiki to make a list of favorite blogs that bring me "happiness and inspiration" and make me feel "happy about *blogland."

The rules: give the award to people whose blogs bring you happiness and inspiration and make you feel so happy about blogland! Leave them a comment on their blog to let them know they received this award. (I may or may not have followed these instructions exactly as written.)

Gluten Free Mommy: I have been "real life" friends with this blog's author for about 12 years, since my sophomore and her freshman year in high school. After losing contact for a few years after college, I was so happy to stumble upon her blog completely randomly, while searching for gluten-free recipies for a coworker with Celiac. It's been a delight catching and keeping up as old friends in this way. What delights me the most, however, is the "essential Natalie" (her sense of humor, absolutely unmistakable sly smile and free spirit) that comes through in her writing every once in awhile. Anyone that knows Natalie knows what I mean. We have a particular greeting card exchange tradition that I think we need to rekindle. Tee hee!

Zoot: I don't know this woman, and I don't even comment on her blog, but I've been reading it for years. I'm totally impressed by the way she's able to maintain such an entertaining account of her life without compromising some of the securities the Internet can take away if you're not careful. She's never revealed her name or the names of her children to her online readers, she keeps a bona-fide "Kind Blog," by never insulting anyone, and she's got that effortlessly approachable, Every-Woman thing going on. Like Carrie from Sex and the City, only with curly red hair and a Southern accent.

Hello Darling: No one understands a Texan like another displaced Texan, and sometimes misery really loves company living in the big city. A shared affinity for Blue Bell ice cream, Shiner, sorority culture and all the other special things about the Lone Star State makes her blog an essential read for me every day. Where's a g-d Taco Cabana when you need one, right?

My tagger Kiki: Lives an enviable life! By making her home close to the ocean, turning her passion into a successful career and happily ensconced in family and friends, she makes living the good life a priority and goes after it with an energy I rarely have. While she's out having bonfire BBQ's on the beach, rest assured I'm having a grand old time reading about it in my sweatpants in the dark because I won't change my lightbulbs.

And because I'm not all sap and sugar, the "blog" of Unnecessary Quotations: just go and read it, people. It's almost as good as the neon "We Delivery" sign at the Chinese restaurant in the Gold Coast. I heart this blog, I really "do."

*Do they serve wine in blogland? What about a shoe store?

Really super

So, after finally realizing that the Cold Stone right down the street is not the same establishment as the godforsaken Marble Slab where they sing and dance and act ridiculous and I get really embarrased for them - and embarassed for myself because when I want ice cream, it's usually because I've just like, given up completely and I want it quietly, like can you please just assist me in your inside voice without alerting everyone that I'm a giant fat-ass? and then I light myself on fire right there in the store - I made R accompany me there for a cup of Cake Batter ice cream, or, as I like to call it, The Shit.

Somehow we got on the topic of: you know the only thing that would make this better? A tiny little bit of really cold whiskey and then that turned into: you know when I've had a really bad day? Is when you come home and I'm blending a pint of Cake Batter ice cream with a pint of Jack Daniels, which led to: do you know why we don't have working blender? Because of that time a bunch of girlfriends and I blew the wiring on the thing with our furious margarita-making. With smoke and everything.

I'm really something.