Everyone at this Caribou seems to be writing! How inspiring!

That awesome location for the Taiwanese tea shop that I want to open? The rent has dropped to a mere $3,600 per month. If I could get Liza to draw me up a business plan, I might just go for it. I'm telling you, this place is perfect: the counters, the tall, germ-blocking plastic barriers, the sinks. There isn't even a Starbucks next door, which is a minor miracle in nearly any big city in the world.

I had this friend in a previous life - we aren't really in touch any longer - and he used to say that he really enjoyed having a routine. He liked the regularity, the liturgy of daily repetitions, of being a faithful doer of the same daily or weekly activities. This made me think, maybe even say to him - I don't actually remember, how boring. As the world turns, I have become that person. Every Thursday on my day off, I walk 3 blocks to the 7-11 and get a couple of doughnuts for breakfast. I drop off the Netflix disc that I watched the night before in the corner mailbox. Later in the day I go to Marshalls and TJMaxx for a little fun shopping. On sunny summer days, I go to the beach. On frosty winter mornings, I cram my hockey blades in my backpack and go downtown to Millennium Park for a few hours of ice skating. When I am blessed with a Saturday off, I take the bus to my favorite downtown farmers market where I walk the blocks and admire the baked goods, produce, flowers, and cheese. And I buy absolutely nothing. I go to the Corner Bakery at State and Elm and buy a baby bundt cake. I take it down a block to that fun little plaza where I can sit and read and eat and watch the tourists and Gold Coasters come and go.

Strange how we become the people that we used to know, and the people that we used to know become unknowable.

Currently admitting that I fell asleep last night listening to:
All the Way: A Decade of Song by Celine Dion