1. I hate antiques. My personal hell would be a Bed and Breakfast teeming with old dolls and dusty shelves and dingy vases. Not only am I very allergic to antiques, but I'm also really creeped out by the history that lingers around them. I'm kind of sensitive that way. My mom used to take me to Williamston, MI down Grand River from where we lived in Okemos, and there were some fascinating antique places there, but I always felt like I needed an exorcism and cortizone shot afterwards. Please put me up in the Hampton Inn, not the Daintywood B&B. Thank you.
2. I've always gotten green and orange confused. Even now I'll be throwing Rubi her green octopus toy thinking "Is this green or orange?" It's funny, too, because green is my favorite color. I never, ever wear orange. Lately I've been wondering if I should get a yellow shirt. But I digress.
3. I'm kind of afraid to go back to Chicago, though it looks like I'll be able to go back for a wedding next month (which is really cool, since my folks will be watching the kids). I've always had a strange relationship with Chicago. I lived there for eight years as a kid, in the city and south suburbs, then moved back for eight more years in the late 90's. But then we moved here two years ago and I haven't been back since. When I move, I mean it. Once in a while I'll flip through channels and see WGN and feel all dizzy and confused. So much for the clean break, the cold turkey. There are a lot of things I miss about Chicago (O, good Mexican food!). When we go back I'm going to sneak through our old alley and take a peek at my former perennial garden, which is probably a jungle by now. I just hope it isn't too much of a shock to my psyche.