So, it’s been all celebrating, making fun plans and kissy faces over here since we got engaged 10 days ago. This last weekend was a blast and we closed it out with tacos at Big Star. We never go to Bucktown; I don’t know if it’s that we have places we love right in our neighborhood or if it really is so far away like we act like it is (it’s not) but we were proud as punch to cross the highway in the name of an errand that garnered us a prime spot on Big Star’s awesome patio. I wore printed pants, Ryan had his plastic Ray Bans…we were in Bucktown and frickin’ pumped. The sun was shining, delicious tacos were in my belly, really outstanding people watching was happening, congrats were coming in from Facebook friends, we were having a blast.

After 10 minutes of what was proving to be a futile attempt to find a cab home (my god, where were the cabs?!), we spotted one and I bounded toward it. I bound, it’s what I do, I’m enthusiastic. Well, this bounding blatantly ignored the curb and there was falling. No, not falling- flying. Arms and legs up for what seemed like forever and a hard land. Strangers yelling “Are you okay?!?”, rushing toward me, cab driver getting out. But before I could react, before I could see my skinned knees, ripped pants, busted palms and cut on my arm, Ryan was there, (literally) picking me up off the sidewalk. He got me in the cab and with his arm around me, we determined that I would live. When I got dramatic about how falling in public proves that I can’t do anything right (because apparently I am 5), he gave it to me straight that I 1) was being ridiculous and 2) do plenty of things right. Walking, in that moment, just was not one of them.

Aside from some skin missing from my knees and arm, what I am left with from that flying incident is that while all of the fun we’ve been having celebrating our decision to make a future together, it’s nothing compared to the fact that this person I’ve built a life with is someone who quite literally catches me when I fall. We have had a lot of proverbial catching each other over the years and it’s been hard at times. The physical act of flying through the air in Bucktown just brought into focus that this celebration IS a celebration of the commitment that we are making to catch each other for the long haul. Falling is hard, partnership is hard but it’s so, so important. And so, so worth it.

I am all about the pretty parts of this celebration but knowing that I don’t have to fly through the air with the greatest of ease…that’s pretty great too.

Bound with ease, friends.

A girl at yoga had one of these abstract letter necklaces and I asked for the website then and there- so unique and pretty!

Go and ask for Sylvie– best massage of my life.

Clever cover of the New Yorker this week.

Excited to try Beatrix this weekend- it’s always fun having something new in the neighborhood!

Go big or go home, I suppose- 2 million people welcomed Lord Stanley back to Chicago yesterday.

This blog makes me want to renovate a little cabin on the lake…

Happy Saturday, friends! Fingers crossed for this rain to clear away so we can all get some summering in!

I found Blue Bottle Coffee in Dallas and my day was literally made. Number 1/Le Jus is utter perfection.

Go Hawks!

My grandfather grew up on the South side of Chicago in the Roseland neighborhood. There are stories of gang fights (primarily fists in those days), Hugh Hefner peddling his new magazine to be sold from under stacks of the Trib and my great-grandmother in a real, live flapper dress. But what my Dad vividly remembers were the trips to visit the old neighborhood that resulted in a ride on the el to go downtown. Bars were at the base of each stop and while my grandfather and great-grandfather took a beer and a shot at each, my Dad was treated to a Coca-Cola and chocolate bar. I’m sure grandma was thrilled when they returned- a loaded husband and sugar-overloaded kid. But those trips downtown were important because it was time together for 3 generations to dream. To look at buildings and people and shiny streets and dream about what it would be like to live there, how to make it happen, what else they had seen or heard about in the world that they found fascinating. It didn’t matter whether or not the dream came to fruition- the fun was that the dream was available to create and it was theirs.

Growing up hearing these stories, I came to realize that with every achievement or happiness my Dad had, a piece of my Grandfather’s dream was being realized. They were dreams he didn’t even know he had but everything my Dad did and, in turn, everything I did, was his dream simply because we were family. You probably didn’t know it was someone’s dream for their 13 year old granddaughter to score 3 goals in a soccer game but I will never forget the expression on his face. To know you are supported by that kind of love…well, anything is possible then. It taught me that I could dream, I could set goals, I could live any life I wanted. It taught me that I could love others the way I am loved.

I felt really badly that I couldn’t be with my Dad on Father’s Day this year. I couldn’t give him a gift in person or a card or share a meal. But then I think about the dreaming we did when I was a kid and the dreaming we still do together today and I know we weren’t far apart. I think about how I’m proud I am of the life I lead not just because it works for me but because this life came from the support from generations of dreamers. I think about the el and how with every creaky turn, dreams are coming true and families are loving each other.