Listen to the Rain

Writing this while I smell the petrichor and barbecued meat coming through the window and listen to the wind.

Friday we were let out of work early thanks to the holiday, and since I had something planned for much of the right, rather than go home, I went to the Art Institute and used my membership to get in. I spent a little over an hour looking at European tablewear and furniture before the museum closed, so I took a slow walk up State Street looking at shops and finally arrived at Cheesie's in Lakeview for saintofsnark's birthday party.

Cheesie's was fine, I guess--pizza and grilled cheese--and while the caprese grilled cheese I got was good and, most importantly, had neither American cheese nor bacon on it, it wasn't anything special and I don't really care about going back. I did have a strange interaction with the woman who took my order, though. She asked me if I danced, or did yoga, and when I, confused, said no, she said that I had good posture and that's why she asked. When I said I meditated, she seized on that as the explanation.

That said, the really special part came later when we went to the next location--Rhiannon:

( Witchy pop-up bar, board games and West Loop food, and a barbecue )