I flew to Chicago in an aluminum can loaded with screaming babies. This is what happens when you fly in the middle of the day, I suppose. The good news was that thanks to the diligence of the b.h., I was able to sit by myself at a window seat. I shoved me earplugs way down into my head and covered my ears with headphones, and I was asleep before the plane took off.
Chicago was hot and sunny when I arrived. My sister picked me up at the airport and we went immediately to a great little pub in her neighborhood where I enjoyed a veggie burger and a Cane and Abel. I slept like a corpse that night, and woke up to find that my mom was on her way to meet us already.
She arrived with a box in hand containing two cannolis and two eclairs from the Italian bakery around the corner from their house. I immediately pounced on a cannoli. it was all I could do to slow down enough to actually savor it. Real cannoli is a work of art, and it is something sorely missing in my life in Vermont. When we went to the car, I climbed in the back, and my mom opened the front door.

"Oh, shit. Son of a bitch."
"What?"
"There's smeech (one of her favorite words) all over the seat. Shit." I peered over the top of the seat and, indeed, the drivers seat was smeared with what appeared to be chocolate and cookie crumbs. I handed her a handi-wipe thing from the back.
"Thanks. Oh, god dammit! You know this means it's probably all over my pants, too. Here, look. See if it looks like I shit my pants." She turned around. At first I didn't see anything.
"No, I think you're allrigh- oop, no." I burst out laughing, collapsed onto the back seat, and eventually choked out the words
"It definitely looks like you shit yourself."
A series of colorful words and phrases followed. I assured her that it would be fine, that we could just drive directly to a store and get her a new pair of shorts. My sister came out and we regaled her with the details. We all laughed for another five minutes and then finally got on the road. Twelve hours in town and already my stomach hurt from laughing.
Our plan was to visit an arboretum outside the city. We stopped on the way at a T@rget. My mom got new shorts and my sister and I each found a sundress (muumuu) in anticipation of the ridiculously hot week. Mine is black, but since I make every effort to avoid the sun I figured I would be okay. Then we went to the arboretum. It was easy to find, but not to navigate. When we parked, we stopped in the gift shop, then walked about two minutes, then drove to the other side where the fragrance garden was, then decided that it was hotter than hell, so we left. Kind of hilarious but I'm glad we're all old and wise enough now to just know when to cut our losses. If it had been ten degrees cooler, or if it had been less crowded, or if there had been fewer mosquitoes, we might have lasted a bit longer. As it was, I do not regret bailing.
We went back to Oak Park for lunch, and then mom and I headed back to her house.