Ouch

This weekend, which had started out with no plans, ended up chock full and closing out with a massive hangover. 

Friday I drove to meet one of my oldest and dearest friends, Emily, in downtown Chicago. We checked out Harry Caray's, the Navy Pier and its Museum of Stained Glass (showstopper!), and the Chicago Museum of Contemporary Art (alternately cool and horrifying). 

Saturday = dinner at the Milwaukee Ale House with Jon consuming a flight of beer during dinner (oh, 36 ounces of beer in 45 minutes), followed by a trip to Jo Cats bar, Club Brady (where a fellow female attendee was accosted by a highly intoxicated 40+ woman, who then dropped to the floor like a plank of wood - never seen anything like it before) and lastly Nomad bar, for a totally unnecessary final drink. 

Sunday brought pain, Advil, water, an ill-advised run and Comet Cafe for a brunch of biscuits, gravy and eggs. Followed by a trip to the Milwaukee Art Museum for its "Art in Bloom" exhibit, a 3-day event where local floral designers reinterpret works of art with flowers. My boss was awarded People's Choice third place for her interpretation of Beth Lipman's Laid Table!

Photo by Journal Sentinel

Here is the amazing technology of my new phone's camera, which in this light, does show a striking similarity in form between the two pieces.

Photo by Moi

I then traversed the streets of Bay View (a southern part of Milwaukee that sits on the lake and is filled with old bungalow homes) where I visited 9 open houses. The kicker? After a dinner of grilled chicken, corn and caesar salad that did not burn the porch down, and a "bedtime" of 8 PM . . . I slept for approximately 3 hours. For those of you that know Me, AKA Pumpkin (due to the fact that I rarely see the light of anything post-midnight), this was the equivalent of water-boarding. I don't even know what that is. Some kind of torture tactic that is probably less painful than three hours of sleep when you're still hungover and PMSing. Oh yes, I went there.

Followed by the start of my very difficult workend on Monday, and closing at last with a trip to the vet for Houston . . . as I carried a literal doggie bag filled with poop from our backyard for a stool examination.

If the thought didn't make my stomach turn, I'd say I needed a drink.