Watching Jerry Maguire always puts me in a bit of a manifesto mood. You should have heard me up on my high horse last night, going on about high-rise living in a conversation with Jeff over a turkey burger at Marge's on Sedgwick. (Stay tuned for more on this topic in Jeff's upcoming book, Cool vs. Comfort: The Eternal Architectural Conundrum.) My passionate speech about the existential issues involved with living like stacked ants in overly imposing glass boxes reminded me of the intensity with which I used to approach my neighbor on Cherokee Road in Louisville to speak to him about his leaf-blower. Basically, I wanted him to:
1. Not blow leaves and sticks upon my freshly washed car, which was parked near his residence.
2. Not blow leaves when people were trying to get married in peace at the church across the street.
3. Not blow leaves when I was trying to study for the GRE.
The Quote of the Month goes to my friend Tim, who noted (upon having inadvertently attended the Magnificent Mile Lights Festival on Michigan Avenue):
"It looks like the suburbs exploded down there. Everyone was wearing Lucky jeans."
P.S. I go to a lot of trouble to text big words like "galavanting" and "cumulonimbus clouds," so please don't write back if your text vocabulary is limited to the letters R and U.
P.P.S. Happy birthday to my mammy!
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