Cubs Win! Cubs Win!

Karen took me to a Cubbie game on Tuesday. It was superb! Bleacher fans are the best fans in baseball. Woo Woo signed my hat.

The cubs even gave us a shout out on the scoreboard - I freaking almost died. Loved it! Jim you are the coolest Oboikowitch that I have never had the pleasure of meeting. Mad love. Can you be my Cubs hookup for eternity?

Nuptials II (Home)
I've been meaning to report on the trip back to Missouri last weekend. I had to find a way to write it. We went back to Kansas City for our second wedding thing of the year. I was hoping (though not really expecting) it would be one of those amazing homecomings - and it wasn't. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad we went - but well. . . whatevs.

I guess I thought that everything that has happened in my life in the past five years since I lived/loved in KC, would make for a fabulous reunion. A "look, this is my life now!" kind of thing. But everyone else has lived five years of life in that same time: he came out of the closet, she's four weeks pregnant, he has an album, she moved to Alaska, they got married, he graduated nursing school. These were my childhood friends, these are big events in their lives, and I was surprised to find I wasn't that interested. It was as though strangers were telling me they were pregnant.

"Congratulations" (which means nothing because I haven't been in your life for the past five years and when I leave tomorrow I will probably never talk to you again.) "Good luck" (with the new job/same habits/new house/same drama.) "It's late, I'm going home."

Of course by "home" I meant back to Brittney's mom's guest bedroom in the basement where I had dropped off Russ hours earlier, but it didn't matter. Sitting on Marty's back porch, I discovered that even though I was back in the city where I grew up, I still wanted to go home. I realized that KC is not my home anymore; nor is Cincinnati, Chicago or even South Carolina. Home isn't a location - it is where the heart is, and right then, that basement bedroom was home because Russ was there. (Raise your hand if you threw-up a little in your month when you read that. Sorry the sappy-crappy stuff ends here.)

The glaring exception to all this was Faith. It was really, truly great to see her and her family again.

Oh, and people who now live in my old house: the grass desperately needs to be cut. Slackers, that will be a lada national landmark one day, put some effort into it.

I heart cheese
We found a restaurant that serves raspberry baked brie - macaroni and goat cheese with bacon and breadcrumbs - dark chocolate mouse cake - an amazing bottle of Shiraz - and baseball on three flat screens. Holy crap it is sad how excited I get about food. I think I was a fat chick in a former life.

Quote of the day:
gogo: lada, I love you, you rock my ears off!
lada: What? Your ears? Not your socks? What does that even mean?
gogo: What?
lada: What do you mean I rock your ears off?
gogo: What? Uh. . . I'm sorry I can't hear you, my ears are gone.

- lada