What Next, Chicago?

I'm illin' like a villain. This is my second summer cold in 3 weeks. What the hell, yo? Normally I'm impervious to colds, even in the winters of our discontent. Anyone else unusually sickly?

I'm taking a tour of Blogger via the "Next Blog" button. I feel like I've taken a lovely trip, meeting every infant or toddler whose parent owns a camera. There are TONS of family blogs, which gives me hope that I'll have a place to obsessively post pictures of my cat. (Cat-Lady-in-training here.) But, seriously, I was surprised how much I enjoyed seeing all the young families of this here America.

I was trying to get ideas for my next field trip/blog entry. Wargaming, if you will.

• Taste of Chicago. "It's hot as Hades...that man isn't wearing a shirt... who thinks it wise to bring a baby in a stroller?... all those tickets for 4 ribs?" Everyone who has been to the Taste knows the drill. I won't be breaking new ground there.
• The Demolition of Michael Reese. My sister and I were born there, so it's very close to my heart. The thing is? I have a developing phobia of abandoned buildings and large, empty spaces. Plus, they seem to be working reeeally slowly, so I don't have to start documenting it now... right?

• Alexi Giannoulias (right) revealed he was subpoenaed to testify at the Blagojevich trial. I'll tolerate hours of cross examination to see that hottie in person. I saw him walking in the Pride Parade--major bags under his eyes. Well, you can't win them all.
• Those God-awful Old Style at the IO Theatre radio ads. I don't know what I was going to write about exactly. "The canned noise of hysterical laughter enhances the suck."
• My struggling lil neighborhood of South Shore has a new walking club comprised of concerned citizens. I will attend their monthly walk this Wednesday. Perhaps it will be interesting to see the evolution of a Chicago neighborhood with many problems (I've seen more bodies than I care to) and HUGE potential.
• I was asked if I wanted to purchase fireworks this weekend. I've never had the pleasure of procuring my own explosives--and I suspect you haven't, either. You see, I've lived in two states, Illinois and New York, where fireworks (& gambling, fun stuff) are forbidden. That's what cool states like Indiana and New Jersey are for: VICES AT GREAT PRICES! (New state motto. True story.)