Living the American Dream: July 2008

Party On...

What I miss most about my old job is not driving to it in the fog at 7.30 a.m. or schlepping a bag full of books and a cassette player down mile long corridors, but having colleagues. We all got on well, and had great fun having departmental parties for special events.
So it was with great pleasure that even though I don't technically have a job, this afternoon I was still able to attend a leaving do.
The jolly event took place at North Central College, where I hope to be teaching an adult evening class if anyone ever enrols for my course. My vivacious 'employer' Jen announced she was leaving a couple of days after recruiting me. I'm trying not to take it personally. It was just like the old days. We all sat round a table laden with plates of cheese, fruit and brownies, while everyone chatted as if they had been friends for years.
I met some great people, exchanged a few business cards and waved a teary farewell to the woman I didn't know. I cooed over her four month old baby (the reason she is leaving), shook hands with everyone and welcomed our new department head.
It was so much fun it made me realise I don't care if I don't get any students at all. In fact I may just make a whole new career out of crashing other people's leaving parties.

Checking Out

Our guests head off on the next leg of their vacation. They could really do with a rest after all the hard work they put in helping out at the party, but not much chance of that as they're off to New York.

The Hotel Decent is proud to offer vacancies from now until October when Orphan No 1 and Dumb Bell Door return. Let me know....

On Cue

Back in England Grumpy and Doc played snooker at a club every week, (at least that's he told me he was doing). He's now lucky enough to have his own pool table, but sadly no one to play with. So it was a special treat to be able to play once again.

Time Out

With no time to clear up from the party, we were back on the tourist trail. We started at Navy Pier, then did the Architectural Boat Tour (3rd time for me but how else am I going to become a Chicago tour guide?)

Someone tell Grumpy he's looking the wrong way!

Doc, Sleepy, Happy, Snow White, Sneezy, me and Grumpy.

Or is it the Brady Bunch?

Snow White and Doc have five children (only three came with). Luckily they found it easy to make up the numbers.

At the end of the day it was back to our favourite Naperville restaurant Hugo's for a farewell dinner.

Party Pix

As promised, some pictures of the party.

Hot Diggity Dog - we made it!

Our guests are never idle.

Dairy Queen

I know it's corny, but you can't have a mid Western bbq without them

On a hot day, what could be better than an iced bed? Pity it was only for the salad bar.

Orphan Nos 1 and 2 joined us via webcam. They met all the guests, and even enjoyed a little drink, although it made an awful mess of the computer screen. Mind you, they were a lot heavier to carry around the garden than when they were babies!

After five minutes of Grumpy's cooking, the Oracle decided to share his cooking skills with us.

Just a few of our 80 guests. Here's to next year!

Clear the deck - it's Cameron and his band

If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

Spike's expertise with Photoshop helped make a unique birthday cake.

The Party's Over, It's Time To Call It A Day..

The house looks like a bomb's exloded in the kitchen, the yard looks like a garden furniture centre but we're going to have to leave it as it is because we're back on the tourist trail with our British guests.
But just had to let you know the party was a huge success. Last year we managed 60 when we didn't know anybody. This year 80, which means we now know 20, but the 60 we didn't know came back.
As predicted, the threatened storms didn't materialise, and the weather was perfect. My order for a perfect sunset didn't turn up until 10 p.m. by which time it was already dark and no one could see it anyway. Fortunately the fireflies did a great job. I tried to imagine each one swallowing a mosquito as its light flickered, but judging by our souvenir bites I guess that wasn't the case.
Photos and more news will be posted later in the week.

Open for Business

Today we had the dubious pleasure of going to collect some equipment we are renting for the party. The assistant seemed a little surprised that Grumpy had just had the Grumpymobile completely cleaned inside and out just before filling it up with dusty tables etc.
The real reason was so it would be spick and span for the latest arrivals at the Hotel Decent. It just meant hauling six seats out, cleaning it, bringing the equipment home, then putting all the seats straight back so we could head off for the airport.
Sometimes I wonder why anyone wants to stay with us. We either have them lifting furniture, catering or making giant fruit baskets. They're usually so exhausted by the end of their stay, they can't wait to leave.
Just hope they know what they're letting themselves in for...

It's My Party, But She Can Cry If She Wants To...

There are days when my life here is as boring as watching golf on TV, today it was more like I Love Lucy.
I was back at Jewel just after 8 a.m. buying those final few bits for the party. (You know the ones, the things you can never find, eventually do, then leave them at the back of the cupboard only to discover them mouldy six months later).
All I needed was some dessert bowls, which Grumpy thankfully realised we'd forgotten, and some nuts to sprinkle on icecream. You'd think it would be easy, but no.
I ran round the shop like a headless chicken, went nuts looking for nuts and was thrilled when I found the bowls.
But Grumpy has taught me well. How could I buy them in Jewel when they might be cheaper somewhere else?
So I shot off to two more stores where I discovered not only were the items not cheaper, but they didn't actually have any.
Time was ticking by and I knew I had a garage load of vegetables to prep for salads.
So it was back to Jewel yet again. This time I bumped into my favourite cashier Joanne. Joanne works at Jewel, the Morton Arboretum and in her spare time acts as my shrink.
I was in such a state I blurted out how exhausted I was from all the running around getting things organised so it all looks effortless on the day. (Guess I've blown that if any guests are reading this).
I was sweating and my hands were shaking I was so tired.
Joanne was very sympathetic. She started laughing.
"I don't know anyone who throws parties like you do,"she chortled.
Then to a co-worker she added: "Hilary writes for the Naperville Sun. I think she's hysterical. I know her whole life story."
"Yes, but this is serious. I've got 75 people coming for a party on Sunday and I can't find the nuts."
In the end I invited Joanne to the party to quieten her down.
"Look, I really must get going," I said. "I have to meet my composer, we're writing a musical ."
At that point Joanne started laughing so hard she started crying.
"I haven't laughed so much in ages," she said, wiping her eyes.
It's gratifying to know that as my life continues to unravel everyone around me finds it so amusing, I must make sure she has a front row seat for the show.
Finally as I drove off to see Mrs Hammerstein the answer came to me. Next year instead of carting all this food back from Jewel, I'm going to hold the party in aisle 7.

Party Preparations: All Systems Go

The countdown is on to our biggest party of the year...

Guests invited: Yes, but room for more if you'd like to come
Guests of honour from London: Flying in on Saturday.
Food bought : Spent more time in Jewel and Costco this month than in my entire life
Drinks bought: Yes, even got that fancy root beer for the band that no one stocks. Honestly, these musicians are so demanding.
Lists created: So many, I now have a list of lists to write.
Decorations: Yes, but currently in a big bag in the family room.
Grill: Of course. Oops, must add propane to the list
Music: Still need music (and outdoor music system come to that) for when the band takes a break. Grumpy insists on downloading which means we'll get a compilation of Now That's What No One Would Call Music.
Web Cam: All ready to go for live video link up with kids back home.
Weather: Put in my order for low 80s, sunny all day with a fabulous sunset at 8.50 p.m.

As usual the reality of all this is that Grumpy and I have fought over every item , from the number of poppyseeds we need on the hot dog buns to where to place the gazebo. (Won't tell you my suggestion for that one).

Grumpy's Birthday Part Two

Last night we celebrated with some CA friends.

Here's the official 51st birthday portrait

Honestly, you'd think a girl could be left alone in peace to drink her chocolate martini!
(I actually had a much better photo of the lovely Divine, but I couldn't crop my nose out of it!)

"And another thing.." Spike in full flow as the martinis flowed.

"No you're not taking my picture," says Rebecca of Sunnybrook Drive.

Sorry, but closing your eyes doesn't mean we'll go away.

Here is our long suffering waitress, Meredith.

"Look at those rowdy people over there. You'd think they'd know better at their age."

Grumpy's Birthday Part One

As part of a time honoured tradition, when Grumpy went to work yesterday, he found his desk had been trashed.
The joke's really on his workmates though. In England he was so messy his desk always looked like that.

I Don't Know What The Wife's Going On About!

As a special treat for Grumpy's birthday, I had a very old video converted into a dvd. What many of our new friends don't know was that we were famous before we reached America, unfortunately not for the right reasons.
I've made something of a career out of making fun of Grumpy. I used to write columns about him in a style magazine nearly 30 years ago.
One day a TV company called the newspaper I worked for, to see if I knew of anyone who had committed d-i-y disasters in our area.
Well, living with someone like this, it was too good an opportunity to miss. The result has haunted us throughout our married life, and thanks to me, I can feel it all starting up again!
(By the way, we were 23 when this was filmed. As Orphan No. 1 says, it look's like Grumpy had to take the day off school to appear). Enjoy, and feel free to comment.

Happy Birthday Grumpy!

To celebrate Grumpy's big day, thought you'd like to see an old picture of the birthday boy.
(That's what you get for showing me how to use the scanner, albeit not very well!)

Things A Travel Writer Should Never Say..

Yesterday I asked Orphan No.1 to help me with some research for an article I will be writing for Naperville Magazine on visiting London.
He came up with some great suggestions, but I had to share this from his friend Paul Ratner....

Day 1: in the morning, start off by going on the London underground, which breaks down due to signal problems; then leave the train and continue by getting into trouble with some hoodies on bmx’s; then walk out of the station into glorious rain; then get shouted at by some hoop-earring wearing, perma-tan chavs; then have lunch at a café that serves traditional British beef, with e-coli; and whilst eating, lament on how we’re being over-run by the CAP and the EU; then watch England play on TV in the afternoon and lose, in a pub which no longer has a happy hour; then watch the news and feel saddened that Gordon Brown isn’t exactly Personality of the Year; then watch some dreary reality TV programme where the viewers get shouted at by gobby Davina McCall; then eat your 5-a-day; then go to bed, alone, with the heater on.

Basket(ball) Case

In our attempt to try all things American, last night we found ourselves at a basketball game at the University of Illinois in Chicago. It was a WNBA game featuring Chicago Sky and Indiana Fever. I didn't even know there was professional women's basketball. It's been around for about three years, and the Americans are even sending two of yesterday's players to compete in the Olympics.

I was much more enthusiastic about watching a fast moving game like basketball than baseball. That's so slow they have to throw entertainment in to keep the crowds awake. Unfortunately, I was wrong. Although the game itself is fast, they kept stopping every few minutes, apparently just so a variety of silly games and wild t shirt throwing could take place. (That's new ones thrown into the crowd, no one actually took any off).

In the end it was pretty much like a baseball game, except the teams ran back and forth instead of round and round. How they could play with the crowd roaring, drums beating and commercials running around the top of the court was beyond me.

I mean surely all those screams when you score can only put you off, right?

The last few minutes seemed to go for hours, as the clock was stopped every few seconds. I knew they'd dragged it out for too long when the cleaner appeared on court. At least there was a young girl sweeping the court with a big broom, so I guessed that's what she was doing.

All the action was shown on a giant screen, just in case you couldn't see the court directly in front of you. It also showed the crowd, who went wild whenever the camera picked them out. Oh look, it's Grumpy..yey Spike and Divine..oh, but who's that bored looking woman checking her Blackberry?

Tivoli Trivia

My column in today's Naperville Sun stirred up some unexpected interest. Read it below, then see what followed.

As a newcomer, it's lovely to stir up some really old memories for people who have lived here for a lot longer than I have. The beautiful photos were sent to me by Chris Johnson of Classic Cinemas.

Tivoli is the starring attraction of weeknight movie adventure
July 22, 2008

I love movies, in fact I have pretty much based my life on them. It was watching American films as a child in England that led to my love of the United States. Nowadays when I play piano I am Adrien Brody in "The Pianist." When I flit around the dance floor I am Cyd Charisse. Unfortunately I play golf as if I am in "Caddyshack," but I guess you can't have everything.
Anyhow, when I came to live here, I couldn't wait to see a real American film in America. The big shiny cineplex was calling, so why did we shoot straight past it and head off to Downers Grove?
It was because Downers Grove boasts something even better than a 47 screened cinematic monstrosity where you're lucky to find three other people sitting in the same room as you. Downers Grove has The Tivoli, a shrine to the golden age of Hollywood. A fabulous art deco palace that Norma Desmond would have been proud to have played in.
It was so exciting to queue up outside for one of only two little kiosks issuing tickets. To wait in the huge lobby, then enter the splendid inner temple with its colorful paint work and wonderful architecture.
The turnout was huge. The place must seat about 2,000 people.
"This must be some movie to attract such a large crowd," I reasoned as I settled into my velvet tip up seat.
Then I saw it, or rather heard it. At the side of the stage was an organist playing what looked like an original 1920s Wurlitzer!
It was just perfect, although I spent the whole time waiting to see it descend into the bowels of the stage.
The room darkened and the film began. Unusually these days, it went straight into the show, with no commercials or trailers. Not having been to the cinema in the United States I thought it was a bit strange, but I'd watched enough TV to assume there would be ad breaks every 30 seconds throughout the movie instead.
This may seem a little odd, but I was so excited to see the cinema that I hadn't really considered what the movie was.
The title told me it was called "The Italian." Had they just cut the word 'job' off the end? If not, maybe it would show picturesque scenes of Italian vineyards with a happy family eating alfresco outside their villa in the Italian hills. Or a romp through Rome on the back of a Vespa? That would be fun.
The opening gray scenes of a bleak snowy orphanage made me think that maybe I had the wrong film. It turned out to be the miserable story of a little Russian orphan who is awaiting adoption by an Italian couple. Unfortunately he never makes it there because he runs away to find his real mother first. Oh, and just to make matters worse, it was in Russian, with English subtitles.
Apparently every other Monday the Tivoli is taken over by the After Hours Film Society, who use it show art house movies. The Sun's film reviewer Josh Larsen even hosts discussions sometimes.
As someone whose limit is talking about the price of popcorn, it's probably just as well I didn't stay for that bit ...

Sue Retterer writes:

I want to tell you how much I enjoy your column every Tuesday in the Naperville Sun. It's comforting to know that other people have the same sense of humor (or should I say humour)!I really enjoyed today's column about the Tivoli theater. The owners have done a wonderful job of restoring it, but I wish you could have seen it in 1960 through my 10 year old eyes. I was then deemed old enough to walk to the "show" with my girlfriend, clutching my little change purse containing 70 cents; 35 cents admission, 25 for popcorn, 10 for pop.The lobby was plush with sofas and chairs here and there, and I seem to remember velvet curtains around the doors to the aisles. We always went down aisle #3. The seats weren't as nice as they are now, but we didn't know any different. There were ushers then, with flashlights to help seat late comers. We were admonished by out parents that the ushers had the authority to kick us out of the theater if we were too loud or unruly. The lobby also had vending machines for ice cream, candy, and pop. This came in handy if the lines at the concession stand were too long. Oh, and the REAL butter on the freshly popped popcorn! I doubt if the kids today know how good that tastes, given the oily substance put on the pre-popped popcorn offered at today's multiplexes. I dreamed of working at the Tivoli when I got older, alternating between usher and concession stand.A trip to the ladies room was an event. There was an actual "lounge" with plush chairs and more vending machines. I would wish I had more money to buy one of the nifty combs, a dark blue mini bottle of "Evening in Paris" perfume, or a "napkin" with a rose on the package (I found out what those were for the next year).Thanks for bringing me down memory lane. I heard you can rent the Tivoli for corporate events, and weddings as well. I have visions of the bride standing on the organ as it ascends from the floor, the organist playing the wedding march, not to mention real buttered popcorn for the guests! See you at the Tivoli!

The Naperville Effect

Yet another story about the Naperville effect. This afternoon I went to Batteries Plus on Ogden Avenue to buy a new battery for my electronic food scales. (If I thought it would help my weight loss, I'd buy new ones for our bathroom scales too). Anyway, an assistant spent ages wandering round the shop trying to help me. Eventually the correct battery was located by the counter, so I took out my purse.
"That's ok, it's free," he said, handing me my new battery. "This was a single one out of a packet. There's no charge."

The Right Chemistry

I'm a bit worried about my latest venture. In the autumn I am hopng to teach a class for the community education department of North Central College, and today I had to go and fill in the paperwork. I've never been so pleased to have to fill in some forms. It was like having a real job!
The only problem was before I left, I was made to watch a short video about handling dangerous chemicals, which basically boiled down to make sure you read the label.
"Er, am I likely to be handling suphuric acid in a creative class?" I asked. I know I've done some slightly off the wall stuff in the past, but this seemed a bit odd even for me.
"No, no," I was assured. "Every new employee has to watch this video, just in case. It's a safety thing."
Hope I'm not going to be running my class from a laboratory. It could lead to some explosive lessons!

You Have Been Warned...

Oh no. It's started again! Just when I thought Grumpy had hung up his paintbrush for good, I turned round and look what happened! Here he is helping out at the Congregation Beth Shalom clean up day on Sunday. Be afraid, be very afraid....

The Sunny Side of the Street?

We're into the final preparations before Grumpy's birthday barbecue at the weekend. This morning I thought I'd send out a little reminder to our ever growing guest list (70 so far, but more anticipated). So there I am, telling people about a wonderful garden party with live music, entertainment and cocktails under the stars with a thunderstorm crashing about me.
Last year it never occurred to me there could be rain. It had been hot and sunny for weeks, and anyway we were so busy (sorry, Jett was so busy) getting the house finished, we didn't have time to even think about the weather.
This year I've lost count of the number of storms we've had. But if we could get a whole house remodelled in six weeks last year in time for the party, I've no doubt we can pull off a fabulous sun soaked event again this year.

It Might Not Be Art But.....

The art studio was light and airy, the air conditioning turned up just a little too much. The silk robe slid off the life model a little too easily. She drew a short intake of breath as the students drew on their papers. The class had begun.
I hope you didn’t think the model was me. I’ve tried a lot of new things since I've been living here, but life modelling certainly isn’t one of them! It was scary enough drawing alongside a group of talented artists without being on the other side of the easel, thank you very much.
The workshop was run by the Figurative Art League of Chicago at the Naperville Art League’s headquarters in North Center Street, Naperville. I’d always considered myself pretty good at art at primary school, it just hadn’t occurred to me my skills wouldn’t have grown with me.
“We’ll start with some gesture drawing,” explained our instructor, Natalie. “Just a one minute rough sketch to show the position of the model.”
I picked up my pencil, freshly sharpened with my eyebrow pencil sharpener because I couldn’t find my real one. My first sketch was a bit scrappy, but since I couldn’t see anyone else’s I was quite happy with it.
After a few of these, we moved onto looking at shadow.
“Here, you can borrow my charcoal if you like,” said my neighbour taking pity on me.
I remember charcoal from school. I didn’t like it then either. Within seconds my paper, my hands and my clothes were covered in dusty black clouds. I looked like I’d spent a night in a coal mine.
We then tried another exercise, designed to really make us look at the models. By now Gerry Clarke, the founder of the Figurative Art League had joined in. (Let me just say, he didn’t have to worry about what to wear for work, but his suit fitted better than Grumpy's).
“This time just look at the models and don’t look at your paper at all,” said Natalie.
At break time we had our first chance to look at each other’s work. We had several more opportunities through the rest of the day, but I noticed no one came back to look at mine again, although I did receive some sympathetic smiles.
Eventually Natalie came up to see how I was doing.
She looked carefully at the delicate features of our lovely model Jill, then at the troll I had drawn.
“Hmm,” she mused. “Profiles are very difficult.”
I did suggest it would be easier if the models wore paper bags over their heads, but no one seemed to agree.
Natalie rubbed out the profile I had drawn and tried to draw one for me.
“Oh well, never mind,” she said as she realised it was like moving deckchairs on the Titanic, “just carry on.”
My fifth attempt did look a bit better. Natalie said a good way to get light into the picture was to use your eraser to rub out patches of pencil. Unfortunately I was a little over zealous and completely obliterated what I had drawn underneath so had to start again.
At the end of the workshop we were asked to display our work so everyone could admire what we had all achieved. There were delicate sketches coloured with pencils, bold pastels with strong lines, a beautiful oil painting and some scribble worthy of a five-year-old. As it turned out, the picture I drew without looking at the paper at all turned out to be my best effort. Guess its back to the drawing board for me.

The above will be a forthcoming Sun column. Here's what I actually drew...Commissions on request..available to interview prospective models any time...

Be Careful What You Wish For......

Ever since I was seven years old, I have wanted to be an author. It would be my way of leaving something behind after I am gone, apart from an untidy closet full of old clothes that are two sizes too small for me, that is.
I have been very lucky in that my work has been published in newspapers and magazines, but so far no elusive book deal.
If anyone is there is make my dreams come true, it’s Grumpy, so yesterday he made it happen, although not exactly as I would have expected.
He didn’t send off my barely started manuscript on my behalf. What he did was to secretly have the first year of this blog printed as a book. He had two copies made, one for us and one for Orphans No 1 and 2, which was only fair as the whole thing was Orphan No 1’s idea.
Unknown to me, several months ago he found a website that will publish your blog for you. Grumpy had to send off for the software, then he painstakingly copied the blog onto it, had to format each page individually and reorganize all the photographs.
Yesterday he got the books back from the printers and brought them home as a surprise. He was obviously expecting me to run round the house screaming with delight, so was obviously shocked at how shocked I was. So for anyone else thinking how ungrateful I am, let me try to explain.
1. As far as know, Grumpy and I never keep secrets from one another. (So don’t tell him in anything in confidence if you don’t want it to eventually make it into the Naperville Sun!)
As I had no idea about this, it suspiciously made me wonder if there is anything I should, or shouldn’t know? After all, if guilt ridden men having affairs give their wives flowers, what on earth would they have to have been up to warrant giving their wives their own book!!

2. Every success we have had in the United States has been because we visualized it first. Being accepted, having a lovely home and neighbours, Grumpy’s career going so well, getting a newspaper column etc has happened because we worked towards it and wished really, really hard. I’m worried that this book has made my dream come true in that area too, which therefore means I’ll never get a real book published.

3. Grumpy has a habit of suggesting a possible birthday present for himself, then buying it himself in advance. I thought he had ordered his own gift for next week.

Of course all that aside, not only do I have a unique coffee table book, but it also shows what an amazing family I have. That Orphan No 1 would have seen such a great opportunity and that Grumpy spent so much time into formatting it is very touching.

So if anyone is interested, I’ll be doing a book signing in my kitchen next week. Of course I only have my one copy, but I’m happy to sign it and give it to you so you can hand it back for the next person. Oh, and for what it’s worth, this is absolutely the best present I have ever had….

..And Third Place Goes To...

Yesterday we heard the news that Naperville has again been voted the third best place live in the United States by Money Magazine. This wasn’t exactly a surprise. After all, you don’t move half way across the world without doing a bit of research first. We already knew it had won the same accolade in 2005. In 2006 it came in second. Last year, it came nowhere, but I like to think this is because they changed the rules for a year, not because of our arrival!
So what makes Naperville so special, aside from the fact you can accidentally leave valuables on top of your car in a parking lot and expect to find them still there on your return?
According to Money Magazine, it’s because Naperville reflects Midwestern values in a small city that is 30 minutes from a vibrant metropolis. It has a low cost of living, rising incomes and job growth. It has above average schools and an excellent library.
Having moved here from London, I would rate Naperville highly for different reasons.
1. Parking is a dream. Although locals complain about parking in the centre of town, they obviously haven’t lived in a major city. I will never get over the joy of parking directly outside the bank or being able to park at the shopping mall after 10 a.m., and it’s all free.
2. You can walk past complete strangers in the street and they will greet you with a cheery “good morning” or “hallo”. Even teenagers.
3. Even in a comparatively small downtown area, we have three Starbucks and two ice cream parlours.
4. Naperville is an almost Utopian society. The town actually looks like it has been carefully planned to make it an enjoyable place to live with lots for everyone to do.
5. Wherever you travel, there is nowhere quite like home.

Of course I haven't been to numbers 1 and 2 on the list, so I suppose I should really visit Plymouth, Minnesota and Fort Collins, Colorado, before deciding to settle here for good, although Grumpy's commute to work may be a little tricky...

Storm Troopers

We've not had much luck with the free concerts in Naperville this summer. On July 3rd we couldn't get near the place, yesterday it was the weather.
Let me explain. Every summer the Naperville Municipal Band offers free concerts in Central Park, Naperville. They are such an American event you almost feel yourself turning red, white and blue as you sit down. The band has been going since the 1850s, although I imagine the musicians themselves haven't been performing for quite that long.
The concert attracts a huge crowd, mostly of older people, some of whom come in buses from care homes. They park at the back of the park and open all the windows, so they can hear without having to go to the bother of struggling off and back on again.
Seating is provided on long lines of wooden benches, but many people bring lawn chairs and picnics.
The auditorium itself is a large brick building that backs onto the park. The back of it is painted with a huge mural depicting the history of the band, which folds up magically when the concert is about to begin.
The music is varied, yet somehow all sounds the same. Sousa meets Glenn Miller, if you will.
Every concert begins with a rousing rendition of the national anthem, which means the entire audience spins round to salute the giant flag fluttering at the back of the park.
Anyhow, after my disappointment at missing the Independence Day concert (complete with canons) last week, I made sure we got there early enough this time.
A thunderstorm was in progress as I prepared our picnic, but I was convinced it would be over by the time the concert was due to begin at 7.45 p.m.
By 7 p.m. it was indeed bright and sunny again, so we packed up the stuff (two chairs, a table, a huge bag of food and an umbrella just in case) and set off for the park. (Actually it was a huge bag of plastic boxes containing very little food. Back on Weight Watchers again).
We had no trouble parking this time, sat down and enjoyed our picnic.
The sound men came out to set up their deck and the mural opened up. The anthem played and we all spun round to look at the flag.
As we looked up, we saw that the sun had gone, replaced by the scariest bank of black clouds I had ever seen.
The band managed one tune before they packed up and we all made a run for it. Apparently that type of cloud formation is known as a bow echo, and it produced a heavy thunderstorm which lasted for over two hours.
At least we managed the picnic this week. Can't wait to see what happens next Thursday.

Gas Guzzlers

Gas, or petrol as we fondly refer to it in Britain, is a big problem here in the U.S. With prices up to nearly a quarter of what we paid in England a year ago, the Yanks are nearing fever pitch. I predict this year's best selling Christmas gift will be a gas card.
I too have problems in this area. Not with the cost, God knows I don't actually go anywhere, but with getting it into my car. Try as I might, the nozzle never holds it's position in the fuel cap (or whatever that holey thing is called). That means to get the stuff into the car I have to hold it steady and click it 4,000 times (ok 6 or 7) before my car is full. I swear it would be easier to bung it a few hamburgers now and again.
Tonight I decided enough was enough and so I asked Grumpy to come with me to show me where I was going wrong. (Regular readers will know where this is going).
The first problem was that I had to drive with him in the car. Without a passenger, my driving is faultless. I'm always the correct position on the road, and 9/10 times I'm even on the right (or is that left?)
With him. A disaster. I had more fun on my driving test.
"You're too near the side of the road," said the man who previously complained I was swerving into the middle. Some people are never satisfied.
Then I stopped at a light. I couldn't turn right on red because the car in front of me was stuck. As it pulled off and I followed, I glanced left to make sure I was clear.
"What are you doing?" he shouted. "It's green. You don't have to look."
"And your work buddies wonder why I don't share the driving on our road trips," I muttered.
Anyway, a minute later I was at my usual garage. The one that gives me trouble, which ever pump I use. It's open 24 hours a day. This evening it was closed. Typical.
"I don't know why you don't use the one nearest to the house," said Grumpy helpfully. "Go back. And watch the side of the road."
You might guess what happened at the next gas station. The nozzle went in first time. A three-year-old could successfully have used it on their pedal car.
"I don't know what you were making such a fuss about," said Grumpy as I filled up the car.
Luckily with the distance I drive, I won't have to go back until August.....

Suburban Diva

I've spent my whole life living in the suburbs, but suburban life in England just isn't, well, as suburban as it is here. For a start, I could jump on a train at the foot of my garden (unfortunately no exaggeration) at any five minute interval and be in central London 15 minutes later. The only real difference to not living in the city itself was that we only got tourists on match days (we lived in the shadow of Wembley Football Stadium).
Now I live in Naperville, I have to schedule a city visit by the not too frequent trains, plus taxi or we have to allow a car journey of anywhere between 35 minutes and an hour depending on traffic, which you can never plan for.
Life in the suburbs is very different to city life. If I was a true suburban diva I would be up at 5 a.m. watering my plants and snipping the lawn with my nail scissors.
I have never felt more intrenched in suburbia than I did this morning. A friend of a friend scheduled an appointment (honestly) to come and view my kitchen because she is considering having her house remodelled.
It's been nearly a year since anyone gushed over my state of the art microwave drawer and uba tuba granite counter tops. Months since anyone said "so you're not afraid of colour" when they drooled over my scarlet bathroom. Weeks since anyone admired the size of our yard (not the flowers obviously, because as I said, I'm not really a suburban diva).
Most of me was really proud. Not only was someone I barely knew (lovely woman, by the way) admiring my home, but I actually had someone in my house during the day to keep me company for an hour!
We sipped freshly brewed coffee from my alas still leaky coffee maker (luckily she didn't notice) in fluted white china mugs which look super until you actually try to hold them.
After she'd left, I spent an hour practising the piano (well almost) and then headed off to the golf range to practise there. (Golf, not piano obviously, although I think that would have worked better).
It was then it hit me. All day I'd been thinking how suburban my new friend was, when in fact I am too. Instead of going to work, looking after my family (although they'd be the first to dispute that I'm sure), feeding and cleaning up after three cats, not to mention Grumpy, I am now officially a Stepford wife.
My house is always clean because I employ a cleaning service. It is never untidy because there's only me here most of the time.
Somedays I'm a lady who lunches, and often a lady who breakfasts and coffees too. I wander around downtown Naperville popping in and out of the suburbanista shops, and if I buy anything it comes sealed in tissue paper in a paper bag with a string handle. I watch the other suburban divas walking by in their white crops and baseball caps with designer handbags, designer dogs and quite often designer babies.
Calling my daily paper a newspaper is something of an oxymoron because the last thing you expect to find in it is news. It reports what it not always correctly guesses is of most importance to the surburban public. This week it's that there are mosquitos in the area. Quick, hold the front page. It's mid summer in a humid climate. It would be more newsworthy if there weren't any.
Still, have to go now. There's still time to watch Ellen on TV before I have to make supper....

Ribfest 2008

After spending an entire weekend looking for fun elsewhere, we had the best time back home in Naperville at the annual Ribfest. The event attracts thousands of people from miles around, parking is horrible and the fest certainly has a different feel to other Naperville events, but there is nothing like it.

We felt we had a taste of home eating at this stand, although the ribs turned out to be Australian.

I've heard of choosing your lobster from a tank for dinner, but this is just wrong!

This is the correct way to make mouthwatering ribs...

..or you could do it like this..

As well as food there's great entertainment. This year's included Trace Adkins, R.E.O. Speedwagon, Joan Jett and the Blackheads..

..and the Average White Band

Grumpy's New 'Hatch' Back

Thought you'd like to see the first glimpse of Grumpy's new car. After all the comments he received about buying a soccer mom's car earlier this year, he just wants to prove to everyone he's not too chicken to change it in for another one!

There's No Place Like Home

The scenery around Galena is indeed very pretty, not dissimilar to the English countryside. Indeed we must have driven 300 miles around it this weekend, but Grumpy didn't mind because he saved $10 on gas by filling up the car in Iowa!
"Tell you what," he said. "Let's drive on a bit and we'll stop at somewhere nice for lunch before going home."
So with an oldies station providing background music, I settled down into my seat as we drove off away from the hotel, down hill and through dale. Some prettily named villages had surprisingly little to offer, but we carried on...yawn..and on..yaawwn..
The air conditioning unit in our car is a bit like a shower. Get it warm enough and you're suddenly flaking out from the heat. Cold enough and a minute later its like being on the polar ice cap.
Yawn..zz.
As usual after a few minutes I dozed off. To be honest I think this is because it saves me having to shut my eyes everytime Grumpy comes too close the car in front.
"Ok wake up, I've found somewhere for lunch."
I looked at my watch. About two hours had elapsed.
"This is pretty," I said. "Wooden lodge, lots of trees, very nice."
"Yes," said Grumpy, sounding a little uneasy. "They do a nice brunch."
"Hang on a minute," I said, waking up properly. "This is the hotel we've just left."
"Well this was just the kind of place we were looking for and there was nowhere else like it," Grumpy reasoned. "So I thought we might as well come back."
"Welcome back again Sir," said Russ, the friendly doorman. "Forget something, did we?"

Doing Dubuque

You see some strange sights driving around this part of America, like this four armed biker..

You'd have thought we'd have learnt a lesson from our visit to Gary, Indiana. Don't visit a place just because you can!

"We're right next door to Iowa up here in Galena," I said to Grumpy this morning. "We could notch up another state before going home."

(It's my ambition to visit all 50 states, and to date we've only done 20).

"How about Dubuque?" he said. "That's only 20 miles away, right over the border."

So we left our idyllic hotel to drive across the rolling green hills to the Mississippi. Imediately over the bridge we were in Iowa, and Dubuque.

Let me say now, if anyone is reading this and thinking of going there. Don't bother. It has very few redeeming features and on a Sunday none at all because all the stores are closed.

Having a Hay Ol' Time

It's not always easy to meet the locals when you're a tourist, so we were very happy when an old Illinois farmer turned up to treat us to a hayride. Ken has been farming for over 50 years, and was happy to share some of his experiences with us. The odd thing was that we chatted whilst we went on a lovely trip, but it was around the Eagle Ridge golf course! Somewhat bizarre, but we could at least imagine we were trolling along the Galena hills.

As city folk, it puts things into perspective when you hear of someone having to put in a 15 hour day in the summer and 8 hours in the winter, every day of the year. Ken rears horses and cattle, and grows wheat and corn. The wet weather this year means corn will be more expensive, and many farmers are growing soy instead this time. Hope it doesn't mean we'll soon be chewing soy beans plants dipped in butter!

Here's me and Squeaky, one of Ken's dogs, who always accompanies him on his rides. The horses are 15 years old, which he also rose and trained himself. The scary thing was one of them had had a foal only two weeks before! (Still, she's probably not allowed to vacuum...)