Friday, July 9, 2010

Another Summer Friday In Chicago

Train was pretty empty today. I'm sure there are many people still on vacation from the 4th, but as I walked into work at 7 am on the dot to an overpowering silence, I realized, oh right. They all have 8 am tee times.


This is confirmed by the fact that it's 7:51 and I'm still the only one on my side of the building.


In this survival of the fittest environment, I'm clearly not the fittest. I continue my struggle to survive while the fittest warm up before they hit the first hole. It's fine. To aid me in my fight for survival, here's a quick review of the pictures in my cube that get me through a day:

--My absolute favorite candid wedding photo. Every time I see it I remember that I'm capable of feeling supremely happy and fulfilled.

--Three work besties in a jumping shot on the gorgeous Lake Michigan beach out front of the Catlett cottage in Ludington. Friends Forever+Ludington summer=bliss.

--Mom sitting in a forest of aspens. Arizona is so beautiful, and so is my mom. Her look, as always, says, "Life is bigger than what you're worried about."

--Reflection of me, mom, and dad in the Bean. Dad meets Chicago for the first time and LIKES it. That made my year.

--Brian and I standing around in the pavilion at Trinity after my graduation. The beginning of a lifetime of accomplishments for us.

--Family posed in front of the Field Museum, looking like tourists. After years of battling my family's nerdiness, I embrace it wholeheartedly.

--Bethany and I frolicking in front of the Buckingham Fountain. Frolicking, arms in air.

Life is bigger than what I'm worried about.

1 comment:

honeyhair said...

I am commenting on your blog because you commented on mine, and I want you to know that, even though I don't comment often, I do read and greatly enjoy you. You are wittier than me, I think, at least blog-style. I've lost a lot since I started reading everything at a middle school level.

I love that picture of us by Buckingham Fountain. And I LOVE that picture of Mom. It's too much.