People say it's hard being a tourist in your own town, and I have to agree. I'll talk a lot about tentative plans to visit Millennium Park or the Sears Tower when I visit home, but such plans always slither away from me. Whether it be my parents' stocked kitchen or my empty wallet, there's always a reason to stay home and invite friends over instead.
So I made a vow this break as I committed myself to happiness:
"I, Anna Smylie, vow to pursue excitement and adventure with a sense of openness here in Oak Park or Argentina, whether such times be planned or spontaneous, through sickness (err, depending on how severe the symptoms) and health. In the name of Magellan, de Leon, and Dora-- I do."
And I have been doing my best to stick to my vow as I host my boy in Oak Park this weekend (my last F-Sun before I jet off. Tear, tear). We can boast a trip to the Museum of Science and Industry, swing-dancing at U of C, and a trip to downtown Oak Park for shopping and a movie. Not bad right?
And I'm off to drink tea with my ladies downtown this evening and see Wicked come Tuesday.
I have a confession though. As fun as it is to make extensive lists of places I've been and sites I've seen, those aren't really the times I remember first. I remember CJ and my sprint home from Five Guys as we try desperately to keep the burgers and fries warm. I remember our attempt to carefully dissect a muppet cupcake... only to make a mess of blue frosting and vanilla crumbs.
[stick with me as I get cheesy here]
Basically, I remember the time I share with someone rather than the event or place itself.
[there! that's it for the cheese, I swear!]
And I intend on finding those experiences in Argentina. I do.
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