tids and bits.

Yikes. Already failing miserably and it's not even the end of Week One on this here blog. As I mentioned, I went to Chicago for training. To be more accurate, I went to the western suburbs of Chicago for training, which was an altogether different experience involving copious amounts of liquor, late-night Giordano's deep-dish pizza, and the most bizarrely wonderful Wednesday night out in the city.  

One of my co-seniors has an uncle who works in set design and buildwork for the Chicago Lyric Opera. We met up with him at Primebar in the Loop for delicious mascarpone mac-and-cheese balls and an unpleasantly medicinal acai martini (think Triaminic with a vodka tang), after which he suggested taking the four-block walk to the Lyric for a private backstage, after-hours tour. I drooled, died, and probably totally embarrassed myself with nerdy questions and an abnormal level of excitement. We walked across the rake (slanted stage) for the current production of "Otello," shuffled across the catwalks--my toes went numb and tingly from the fear of heights--and took the conductor's podium in the orchestra pit. It was, in a word, magical. 

Safe to say that was the highlight of my training week. By Thursday afternoon, we were bored and alcohol'd-out, and by Thursday night the three of us were feeling particularly apathetic and misanthropic, a trend which has carried over into my weekend with fairly unfortunate results.  

Some other musings:  

-One of my staff refused to wear a seatbelt and spilled green tea in my car on Friday after team lunch. Endlessly frustrated.  

-I ran a meeting, completely solo, with the controller, directors of financial reporting and upper management of my major client. Huge rush. My palms were sweaty with nerves for an hour.  

-Met several friends' new relationships, with mixed results. Interested to see how their integration into the social fabric of our circles develops. 

-I bought, among other things, a J.Crew Downtown Field jacket, new Williams Sonoma kitchen towels, and a six-pack of assorted Oktoberfest beers over the course of Thursday through Saturday.  

-Notre Dame beat USC in what was simultaneously the most tense and anticlimactic game of football ever. I never thought I'd say this, but please get well soon, Tommy Rees. Our offense misses you and, weirdly, so do I.  

-Caroline Smith and The Avett Brothers each have utterly transcendent new albums out. Can't wait to become better friends with these tunes and hopefully have more on those soon.  

It's my Papa Bear's birthday today! Off to work out, shower off the sweat and crankiness, and celebrate one of my favorite people in the world.  

Happy Sunday, campers.  

Your first Liz Embarrasses Herself story.

So as I mentioned this morning, I had to fly to Chicago for work training...

Those who know me know that for me, work travel is inevitably fraught with complications. There was the infamous "Delta lost my reservation in Fargo so I had to rent a car and drive home" adventure...the 7-hour "Appleton is locked down due to a blizzard' delay, and of course the "I shared a room with a senior manager because O'Hare was shut down due to a tornado" story. Needless to say, I dread traveling for work, because it never. ends. well for me. 

Today, I was super pumped because this was one of the few times I was traveling WITH colleagues who are a: my level and b: who I like. The four of us met up at the airport Chili's (aside: who doesn't love airport Chili's? I feel like they're ubiquitous and awesome and awful and all of the above, just because they are airport Chili's)...and we pounded some margaritas, and chowed on some quesadillas, and then had some more margaritas. To be honest, we had too many margaritas because all the margaritas were being paid for by our company's generous travel stipend. 

At any rate, after 2.5 margaritas, a mediocre quesadilla, and some serious work venting, my colleagues and I headed to our gate, which was, no joke, about a half a mile away from the Chili's. And when we got to our gate, I took an immediate bathroom break (because 2.5 margaritas goes through one's system pretty quickly). Upon leaving the bathroom, I noticed my beautiful kelly green Kate Spade bag was mysteriously missing. Guys and gals, I flipped shit. I immediately barged back into the bathroom, banged on the stall door, and of course, purse isn't there. Might I add, our flight was scheduled to be boarding at that very minute. 

Let's fast-forward to the fun part of the story: the part where I legitimately sprint  back to the airport Chili's. I made excessive use of the moving walkways (aka, I knocked over a child [I wish I was kidding] and yelled "EXCUSE ME THANK YOU" over and over again), stumbled a few times, and at one point flipped off an airport tram guy for refusing to take me. Get to the Chili's. No purse. Call my colleagues. Frantic. They say there's no purse at the gate. Start sprinting back to the gate, hoping for a miracle. 

Halfway back, my man-colleague calls me, asking if my purse is green and Kate Spade. I gaaaaasp "YES" (because at this point I've run more in six minutes than I have in about six years)...and my colleague officially calls me an idiot. 

At Chili's, I had the bright idea to stuff my purse in my carry-on roller bag. Because I had excess room. And TSA regulations mandate that you only carry on two items, which would be my rollaway and briefcase. In the margarita-and-venting-induced haze I was in, I apparently managed to forget this critical fact...in the ten minutes it took us to walk to our gate.  

Bottom line, team...never fly drunk without doing your due diligence on all potential packing combinations. It will result in unfortunate red-faced flying and some major loss of credibility with your travel-savvy colleagues.  

Can't wait to see what the return flight holds... 

off to Chicago + ear candy of the day.

Funny that the day after I start a Minneapolis blog, I jet off to another city...headed to the Windy City('s suburbs) for training for the bulk of this week. Should be a nice change of pace; planning on low productivity and maximum absorption of critical property-casualty insurance concepts. You know you're jealous.  

In the meantime, my best friend who has way better and edgier taste in music than me turned me on to Bastille a few weeks ago on a visit to see her in Baltimore, and, of course, she's proven to be ahead of the curve again. Their first single, "Pompeii," is just starting to hit Cities 97 and I am reveling in that too-cool-for-school "Oh, Bastille? Yeah, I've known about them for a while" thing these days. Take a listen...it's so catchy. 

"Pompeii"

Bastille

welcome.

I had brunch with two dear friends today, and we got on the topic of blogs and our lives and various related miscellany. Over the course of the conversation, I thought about how I used to write. A lot. Not necessarily well, not necessarily even interestingly. I was, however, a chronicler by nature.  

Part of that I chalk up to my navel-gazing, introspective nature, coupled with the fact that I love to share anything and everything. I'm an open book; I thrive on knowing things, remembering others' things, and feeling like my things matter to the people in my life.  

I also hate the thought of forgetting anything. I've been out of college for two, nearly three years now, and even though the experiences I had were so vivid, so memorable, so defined in my mind that I thought I would never forget those magic years, I already find that the little things have blurred into a pleasant, nostalgic haze. Now, going through the whole "twenty-something in a city trying to figure it all out" transition, I feel the same horror of losing the minutiae of what makes this phase of life so delightful and painful and ridiculous. 

So...MinneapoLiz it is. I don't know what to expect yet--except that this is going to be fully for me at this point. An open book, if you will, of a stage in my life I don't want to forget. We'll see how it goes...