Opening the New Year at Jazz Showcase

Last night was my first time inside the doors of Chicago landmark Jazz Showcase. I went with my friends Heather and Sam because Roy Hargrove and his quintet were playing there and, seriously, who can resist the Hargrove? He was fantastic, by the way, with an amazing drummer, a stellar piano player and a solid bassist. The alto sax player was facile, but I didn’t like his approach. Didn’t like it. There were, however, many MANY people in the place who DID like it, so take my opinion as just that, my opinion.

But this isn’t a music review site. This is a “here’s what I’m learning about Chicago as I explore it” site, so let’s get down to business.

I loved it there. The room is lined in awesome memorabilia that I would adore having the chance to examine closely, but that would annoy fellow patrons, so I’ll have to do it stealthily on multiple visits, instead of treating it like a museum.

There are a variety of seating options. We had stools at a table in the back for the first show—it was SRO, by the time Hargrove entered—and happily moved to a table with actual chairs (with backs!!) for the 10:00, happily because my right foot went to sleep on that stool, and Heather was more than relieved to collapse against a chair back. The good thing about the stools at the back tables, I have to say, is that they give you a fantastic view of the stage, right over the heads of the people sitting in front. So that’s nice. There’s also seating at the bar for late arrivals and for those who need to be closer to the source of their drinks.

Heather informed me that there’s one bartender there who makes a perfect French martini. She had two over the course of the evening, and while the first was, she said, “Probably by the other guy,” the second was definitely from the master. Who, by the way, spent part of the evening wearing a be-feathered “Happy New Year” hat sideways on his shiny bald head like a cheap paper mohawk. My kind of bartender.

Our table service during the first show was sporadic, which could in part have been due to the size of the crowd. Sam and Heather said they’d never seen it so full in there. However, given that our server misquoted a drink price to Sam--twice--and didn’t give us our waters, even though they came on the tray with the rest of our drinks, I’m gonna go out on a limb and say it was her. Especially since we got the other server when we moved tables, and she was FANTASTIC. No complaints at all about her.

According to Sam, who has been a regular at Jazz Showcase since he was a wee student at Northwestern, it was started in the 1940’s by Joe Segal who still runs it. This location is the third. Sometime early in the last decade, Segal and his son—who works with his father—closed Jazz Showcase for a couple of years. However, every time they would attend a jazz-related event in town, people would pester them about when they were going to reopen, so they eventually caved to pressure and did. Thank goodness.

Other things to know/love about Jazz Showcase:

♪ People under 21 are allowed in with a parent/guardian, which means that there were some kids in the house. It was awesome, because those kids got to experience the magic of Hargrove’s performance too, which wouldn’t be the case when an artist plays in a bar.

♪ And they’re all about making sure the kids get to experience the music. On Sundays, there is a 4pm matinee show by the headliners, which kids under 12 (with parents in tow, of course) can attend for free. Yes, the parents have to pay, but it’s still a great opportunity for the little ‘uns. And you’d better believe that when my nephew is old enough, we will go to the Sunday matinees so he can experience live jazz from world class artists during his visits.

♪ The headliners usually play Thursday-Sunday, but Jazz Showcase is open seven days a week, so Monday-Wednesday is dedicated to local artists. The cover those days drops to $10, and to only $5 for students, which makes it more than reasonable. (You should also note that though they take credit cards for drink orders, the cover charge is cash only.)

♪ And then there’s the setup. You can go to the 8 o’clock show, pay your cover and stay for the 10pm performance as well, if you want to and if the crowds allow it. We thought we were going to get booted after the first set because the place was packed and we figured they’d clear the house to let the latecomers in. BUT when that happens, those who were there early have the option of sticking around and re-entering the house if there are seats left once the new group has been settled. However, we got lucky. Enough people left after the first show that we were able to just table hop and not leave the room.

My experience at Jazz Showcase was wonderful enough that it won’t be my last. I’ll be back. Hopefully soon. Heather has assured me that unless he’s dying, Sam is always up for a visit there, and even were he dying, he’d still think hard about going. So I’ll always have company. It was a great way to cap of the first day of 2010. In fact, I leave you with Heather’s perfect tweet about the experience:

So 2010 will be my year of yes and right now i am soooo yes for roy hargrove and his 4tet!!

Yes.

Jazz Showcase is located at 806 S. Plymouth Ct, in the Dearborn Station. If you’re taking the Red Line, get off at Harrison and take the southern exit. It will dump you right onto Polk going in the right direction and everything. South Plymouth Court is the street to your left when you reach the Dearborn Station. I only mention these things because I walked the length of that building, knowing I was in the right place, but only able to find Bar Louie, until I retraced my steps and just happened to look to the side.

Cafe Iberico

Just a quick entry to tell you about the off-the-charts deliciousness that was my dinner this evening.

Heather and I had planned on eating at Graham Elliot, but we didn't call ahead and so discovered once we got there that they were closed for a private function. Not to worry. We'll eat there another time, and being with Heather (who in all honesty should probably be the person writing this blog because she's the one who knows about all these places) means that we had several more options on the table in a jiffy.

Odd juxtaposition I must share with you right this moment. The nearest restaurant--as in, in the building next door--to Graham Elliot is a Subway. That does strange things to your head, that vision.

We ended up going with Cafe Iberico. As Heather listed the reasons she was suggesting it: tapas, good sangria, cheap, full of Spanish expatriates, my "Yes! Yes! Yes!" got louder and louder. It sounded perfect. (The restaurant, not my shouting.)

And it was very, very close to that.

We got a half-pitcher of sangria--the real kind, with brandy, not this stupid wannabe stuff that's basically wine and sugar--a basket of awesome bread and four tapas plates (two hot, two cold) for a little over $40. Total. Which means that for the amount of awesome food we stuffed into ourselves, we paid a skosh over $20 each. It came quickly, and it was wonderful.

I have to say that ordering was a trial simply because there were so many tasty looking things on the menu and we had to limit ourselves to four. But I consoled myself with the knowledge that I will be going back, and can therefore try lots of new stuff each time I go.

And I recommend YOU go. Because it's fabulous. Friendly staff, incredible food, tasty sangria (though mine may be better) and great prices. What's not to like?

Wait Wait... Don't Tell Me!

Last night, I participated in what has to be a Chicago tradition/mainstay/happening/I can't find the word. Anyway, it's an event that happens regularly here. I was in the audience for the Halloween edition of Wait Wait... Don't Tell Me!

Heather, you see, is a Chicago 10 for the podcast Too Beautiful to Live. So when host Luke Burbank tweeted about having four tickets for the show, she offered to take a couple of them off his hands. And then she offered to take me. We got to thank him in person after the show. He was sweet and friendly and gracious.

I am so glad I went. Thanks to being comped, we were considered VIP's. And the VIPs got ushered in after everybody else, to our seats in the FRONT ROW.* Plus, we were placed directly in front of one of the audience mics. So you can hear the two of us chortling and guffawing all through the program. And it was guffaw-worthy. Peter Sagal is hilarious, Carl Kasell is slyly witty and the panel was Luke, Amy Dickinson and Julia Sweeney. I laughed harder last night than I have laughed in a long, long time. Maybe that's why I woke up in such a great mood today.

(I'm assuming it will be cut in the broadcast for length and possibly also its "you kind of had to be there" status, but the bit that slayed us both was Luke's rant about bears and Reader's Digest's "Drama in Real Life" feature, especially when Amy and Julia both jumped on the riff with him. I, too, recall being horrified by that particular series of stories as an impressionable child.)

If you're remotely acquainted with the show, I highly recommend attending a taping. Though I must tell you, it isn't exactly free. The Chicago Public Radio store sells tickets to various tapings for $21.99. Which makes me even more appreciative of the wonderful (free!) time I had yesterday evening.



*Here I want to take a moment to commend Don Hall, the WBEZ Events Coordinator. An Audience Services/Events Coordinating kind of gig is really tough, and he did a fantastic job. He was funny and warm and charming and knows how to take care of an audience and VIPs. Things happened really efficiently, but also really comfortably. And he clearly wants to make it a great experience for everyone. We watched him move some teens in attendance to the center of the front row when the people slated for those seats didn't show up. That's just awesome.

Art on Track

Yesterday, my friend Heather and I went to a traveling* art exhibit, Art on Track. This was the second year for the exhibit, and when I say traveling, I want to make it clear that I mean traveling. As in, we went places while in the exhibit. Just around the Loop, mind you, but I think we ended up making the circuit three times total.

This year's exhibit was free, though I understand you had to pay to enter last year. And by free I mean that there was a $10 suggested donation (oops. I had $4 on me, so that's what they got), and a sponsor, Fiji Water, who made the whole thing accessible for more people.

Here's how it works: You enter the L at the "Art on Track" marked stairs at Adams and Wabash. The lovely people at the exhibit table give you a program, a magazine and a stylish bracelet. Then they let you in the gate. You don't have to pay to get on the system. Then you stand on the platform and wait for the train. We weren't sure how we would know which train it was, but it ended up being easy. It was the train with all of the indicators set to "Not in Service."

I remarked to Heather that it might be kind of fun being the engineer on this train, and it did seem like he was having a good time. The "Doors Closing" chime wasn't operating, so HE was doing it for us. It was really relaxed and fun.

There are eight total stops on the Loop itself, but the Art on Track train only stops at every other one. Since there are eight cars total in the exhibit, you go around the Loop (at least) twice to see everything. We ended up going around three times because we hung out for more than one stop in a couple of the cars to be sure we got the full experience.

It was so much fun to be on that train, to see the art and then to scurry out and to another car at the stops. There was a really festive air among the attendees, and people on the various platforms were curious about the giggling, grinning people who would simply get off one car to rush to the next.

We also got our share of idiots, though. Heather and I boarded the car you see above, where everything was wrapped in bubble wrap. As the train was waiting at the platform, another woman got on. The conductor walked through at that moment, and she stopped him to ask whether this particular train went to Midway. No joke. He said, "No. This is a chartered train for the Art on Track exhibit. It only does a ciruit of the Loop. You need to take the Orange Line to Midway." "So it doesn't go to Midway Airport?" she asked again.

I got the sense that the entire crowd in the car wanted to yell "NO!" at her. I mean, not only did every indicator on the exterior of the train say, "Not in Service," with white on black lettering, as opposed to white on orange declaring "Midway Airport," they announced over the PA at every stop that it was the Art on Track train, AND she stepped onto a car full of bubble wrap. Yet even when the conductor told her no, she still didn't believe him. Honestly. How stupid can some people be?

The bubble wrap car itself was awesome, by the way. I'm only sorry we didn't go earlier (the train ran 11am-8pm, we got on about 4pm), so that we could have experienced the floor before dozens of feet popped all the bubbles.

The train was a mix of galleries and installations. I have to say, I preferred the installations, they were just more provoking and fun and had been created to play with the whole idea of the exhibit and participation. That's my favorite kind of art anyway.

The installation pictured to the right was called, "Meat Meet Train," and was filled with fabric forms that looked like hung meat in a locker, along with banners and slings in reddish-toned fabrics. Also, all over the car in various places were stickers with "Chance Encounters" personal ads printed on them, all of them having to do with the L system. We stayed on that car for more than one stop, to be sure we read all of the stickers.

The installation pictured below was a train car filled with money bags. They were all sizes and shapes, made from all kinds of different materials, with dollar signs stamped, painted, drawn and sewn on. According to the kids who were a part of it (and I can call them kids, none of them were over 20), each bag held mostly junk--recycled paper, garbage bags, newspaper, etc.--but also a single valuable item. Which is a lovely metaphor for the lives these trains carry around. How much of my own life, for instance, is about junk, stuff I don't need to lug about with me, whether physically, emotionally or spiritually, and what does it contain that is of real worth?

So kudos to them for coming up with such a great idea and figuring out how to implement it. Because it was awesome. The moneybags pictured below are less than a tenth of the entire installation, by the way. It was HUGE.


There were also two installations I didn't photograph, just because it felt weird. I hate posting pictures of people I don't know on the blog. It feels like an invasion of privacy, which is also why I didn't pursue a career as a videographer, though I could have. I hate sticking cameras in people's faces. So Heather is in one pic and the back of a random person is in another, and in the two installations where things were more open, I didn't take any pictures at all. But I'd like to try to describe them here.

At one point, we stepped onto a car that was fairly empty. It may even have come right after the car full of the money bags or it may have come after the Meet Meat Train. I don't recall. I know that it felt spacious and clean after whichever full car we'd just come from. Anyway, the installation was really simple. There was a curtain of red netting across the center of the train, dividing it into halves. You could pass through if you chose, and you could also see what was at the other end of the car. All of the advertising signage had been removed and replaced with two words--bright red letters, all caps--which were also affixed to the windows so people outside could read them. Depending on which side of the net you stood on, you were labelled either "US," or "THEM." And that was it.

I love art that makes you think.

The other installation was a car that only Heather and I ended up on, along with one of the artists, who explained in a bit of a hurry, what his car was all about. I wish that hadn't been the very last car we visited, or that we'd been on it for more than one stop, because I would have liked to hear more about it.

Three artists, who call themselves the NFA Project, noted the worry they see on everyone's faces right now, as we deal with the pressures and scariness of the economy and financial insecurity/instability. They wanted to address that. So they made 50 lifejackets out of blue plastic tarp stuffed with newspaper, and they painted silver waves of anxiety on each. They paid 10 cents apiece for the buckles on the vests. Everything else was found. Each seat on the car had a life vest, the idea being to provide a sense of comfort to each person who came onto the car. It was heartwarming and wonderful. I actually felt comforted by the time we got off, though, as I said, I would have liked to have stayed on that car through maybe one more stop, just to chat with the artist and learn a bit more about the installation.

As it was, though, I'm very glad that was the last car we rode on. It was the perfect set of images to take away with me.

I really enjoyed the experience. It was a great afternoon of art, and a tremendously fun way to both present and see it. I was a bit sorry to not see any live music or performance based art of any kind in the exhibit. I feel that's lacking. I wonder whether it would be possible to do something workable. I should talk to one of my newest acquaintances about what we could do in a CTA car that would be live performance in the spirit of the exhibit. He's working on a Ph.D in Living Art at Kings College, Belfast. It might be something right up his alley, and it might also be something someone here would consider working on. Hmmmm...


*As I said to Dave over the phone the night before, "You can't do this in Moscow." The main reason being that Moscow barely has public transit at all, let alone a light rail system. Though their ArtWalk every June is sort of like this project in reverse.

Northerly Island Park

This was going to be a post about the Shedd Aquarium, the largest indoor aquarium in the world, but it turned out that the free general admission days published by the library were not free general admission days according to the Shedd. The woman at the ticket counter sounded like she had been explaining that to a lot of people this week. But since we were on the Museum Campus anyway, Heather steered me gently over to Northerly Island Park.


View Larger Map

Northerly Island Park's history is fascinating. It's neither natural nor an island, rather, it's a peninsula made from fill. Not surprising, really, since Lake Michigan isn't known for its powers of erosion. Though it does have a tide. Lake Michigan is big enough to feel a teeny lunar pull, that's where the waves come from, but it's not big enough for the waves and tides to have much effect on the shoreline. It does explain the existence of beach, however.

From what Heather told me, and from what I gleaned via several internet searches*, Northerly Island was once the home of a small, busy private airport, Miegs Field. You can see the name still exists on the map above. In 2003, Mayor Daley realized his dream of returning Northerly Island to its originally intended purpose as a park per the Burnham Plan by sending demolition crews out to the field in the middle of the night, where they bulldozed two large X's in the runway. The action was taken without warning to anyone, including the FAA. Sixteen small planes were stranded, and various aviation organizations were up in arms. One of the pilots' unions called for a boycott of Chicago by all conferences and exhibitions.

(Here is where I point out that the Miegs Field lease on the land expired in 1996. There is of course much more to the story than that. Various people should have been notified, permits should have been obtained, etc. It was underhanded dealing, and many of the Mayor's arguments about the necessity of closing the field were shaky and/or incorrect. In the end, Mayor Daley, in Heather's words, clearly opted for the Forgiveness Option rather than the Permission Option.)

Ultimately, the planes were allowed to use the taxiway to leave the island, the city paid a $33,000 fine and returned around $1 million in airport development funds that were misappropriated for the closure and demolition of Miegs Field.

The fieldhouse (once the Miegs Field terminal) is now the home of guides who give park tours and answer questions on the history of Northerly Island Park. It's open 9-5 on weekdays.

Wandering along the asphalt paths among the flowers on a clear October day, you'd never know this small piece of land was once the center of such a huge controversy.


These lovely ladies are part of a trio called the Daphne Garden, created by sculptor Dessa Kirk. They are PERFECT in this space, dancing with the sky and the wind and the lake. I bet they're equally gorgeous during a winter storm, though I will probably not venture out to verify that assumption.


We also did make it to the Adler Planetarium, but only the exterior. Heather wanted to show me the free telescopes on the balcony, but I really only had eyes for the skyline. What a beautiful city.


*The results of my research are a perfect example of why one must use care when relying on the internet as a source. It took me FOREVER to find a report on the events that wasn't by someone with an axe to grind. The first few pages of my google search turned up nothing but accounts by various unhappy entities. Be sure you pay attention to who you're reading, kids.

OOOOH! Travelling Art

Chicago Art on Track is happening October 10 from 11am-8pm. You board at Adams and Wabash. The CTA fare is waived for this particular train, but they do suggest a $10 donation.

Who's going with me?

Birthday Viands

One of the reasons I didn't post much last week was that Dave was in town. For my birthday. I was busy having a life instead of reporting on it. But now he's gone and I can resume my exhausting schedule of surfing the internet and writing about things.

And one of my favorite things to write about (and explore!) is food. So let's cut right to the chase and talk about what I ate on my birthday.

The morning started out right with a brunch date with my friend Heather. Heather is like a walking encyclopedia of the amazing places to eat in this town. Plus, she's always interested in trying new things. Which is what we did on my birthday. We decided to try Rick Bayless' new place, Xoco. Um. I don't really know what so say about this experience except that it was so good that I want to go back there and eat ALL THE TIME.

The menu is based on Mexican street food, full of tortas, churros and the like. The tortas come baked or fried, and they are perfect. I had the Cubana, and the beauty of eating someplace run by people who like food was evident right away. I have a dairy allergy, and they not only kept the cheese and cilantro crema out of my sandwich, they marked it dairy allergy in the ordering system, just to be sure the kitchen was clear on it. Even without all the melty, cheesy yumminess, that torta was one of the best things I have ever eaten. Ever.

I also had chocolate with my meal. That's one of Xoco's specialties. They grind Mexican chocolate beans right there and cook them up into these amazing hot drinks... I had the Almondrillo or the Almondrado (I am blanking on the name and it's not listed on the website) which is made with almond milk instead of regular dairy. It was so rich that I had to sip it. One taste filled my entire mouth with a deep chocolate flavor, and it took me a good thirty minutes to get through one small cup. With the torta, it was an indescribable flavor combination. Good, but better than good. So much better than good. Way, way beyond good, tasty, delicious, and any other words you can think of for really, really good food.

They don't do takeout yet, but I understand that day is coming. I'm not sure how my pants size will withstand the draw of takeout Xoco.

So that was the food I started my day with.

I finished my day with a birthday dinner at Uncommon Ground on Devon. Again, magical, amazing food. I can't even tell you what I had because it was all specials. The salad was topped with fried artichoke bits and had an artichoke something dressing-type thing moated with some other really good dressing-type thing, two different types of cherry tomatoes and some other really tasty stuff. On my first bite, several different things happened in my mouth at once. Almost to the point where I couldn't focus on anything else because of the flavors. Lovely.

My entree was the salmon--Columbia River wild-caught salmon--with a corn and veggie mixture, sitting on top of a potato and sauteed onion patty. I told Dave at one point that I couldn't decide what to take a bite of next, though it really didn't matter because it was all so wonderful. I practically licked the plate clean.

And then, because it was my birthday, I got dessert. A chocolate stout cake with a chocolate gelato and some kind of flavored whipped cream. All served separately on a long plate. (One of my cousins used to take charge at family Thanksgiving meals and be sure that no foods were touching on the plates of us youngsters. She would have been pleased by this plate.)

I know I mentioned above that I have a dairy allergy. Eating dairy makes my glands swell and can trigger asthma attacks. But I didn't know this until I was in my early 30's and sometimes I just say "To hell with it." Which is what I did so I could have that dessert. I didn't eat all of the whipped cream, but I did eat all of the gelato. What was amazing was how much better they all tasted when combined than they did as separate entities. I almost licked that plate clean as well.

One of the best parts of the evening, though--I mean, aside from the food, which was hard to top--was our server, Whitney. If all of the staff at Uncommon Ground on Devon are as fabulous as she was, you can't possibly have a bad dining experience there. She was friendly, funny, cheerful and knowledgeable. And she promised to not sing when Dave mentioned that it was my birthday. For that alone, she has my undying thanks. If there's one thing I hate about dining out on my birthday, it's being sung at by a group of servers.

So that's the food I ate to celebrate my luck in surviving another year. Great good fortune indeed, if I was able to live long enough to eat at both Uncommon Ground and Xoco all in one day.


Things you need to know: Xoco is at 449 North Clark Street, though you enter on Illinois. Uncommon Ground on Devon is at 1401 W Devon Ave. Check their websites for hours.

Running Away to the Circus

The Midnight Circus, that is.

My friend Chris called me yesterday to invite me to attend a performance by one of his very favorite ensembles in Chicago. "If you don't absolutely adore them, I will be very sad," he said.

Not a problem, Chris, I do adore them. I could not have enjoyed myself more.

The Midnight Circus is a tremendous group of circus artists with a talent pool so deep that as Chris said, you could see a performance of their every single day and never see the same show twice. They could change up acts and members and still put on a great show. For example, today's performance included a juggler. At the end of his act, the rest of the ensemble formed about three-quarters of a circle around him and juggled with him, exchanging clubs with him all the way around the circuit and back. And they never dropped a club. It was gorgeous.

There are also some amazing contortionists and aerialists, and they invite new artists in to work with them all the time. The Chicago Boyz Acrobatic Team joined them today, just as an example of the high-energy work this troupe produces when they play with other artists. One of the clowns got right in there and played with the group, as they did double dutch with an additional single jumprope.

But the Midnight Circus isn't just people swinging from fabric and dancing on tightropes and doing flying somersaults over each other and playing "Tears of a Clown" on the saxophone while balancing on a ladder (I kid you not, it was awesome). They have heart.

There is a little member of the ensemble. I'd guess he's about four. An articulate four, he made an announcement that was clear as a bell. He's dressed in a much smaller version of the ringmaster's outfit, except he has a bowler instead of a top hat. In fact, he appears to be a much smaller version of the ringmaster, like, maybe, his son. And this child participates in some of the clown routines.

He's obviously rehearsed, he works very hard, and he's got about the level of finesse and polish you'd expect from a four year-old. So he's a little kid and not a "professional quality" performer. Yet. But his family is teaching him the ropes. He clearly understands stage behavior and focus and communication. He's learning the craft of clown and enjoying himself HUGELY. And they bring kids from the audience on stage to participate in his routines too. In simple things, fun things, and it brings a sweetness to a show that would otherwise be lots of "Bam! Pow! Awesome!" Which is perfectly fine, but there's something wonderful about seeing a baby clown work. And seeing his parents love him so much they include him in an enterprise that brings them great joy.

There was a second (very) young performer in the show we saw today as well. The male aerialist's little sister. She was maybe six or seven, and she started out with a little bit of contortion and some acrobatics and then moved on to her main focus, the trapeze. Watching her brother work with her--it was her routine, but he was there to spot her and to support her and to encourage her, and she was so happy to be working with him... Chris and I both got all sniffly because it was so beautiful and loving.

And then there are the dogs. Lola, who has been with the ensemble for a while, and the "recently rescued" Junebug, who was debuting this weekend, I believe. For a dog not trained to the work from puppyhood, she did very well. I don't know how she managed to do all of her tricks, in fact, her tail was whipping around so happily that it was wagging her and should have thrown her off balance. She was joy embodied, despite being surrounded by a crowd of cheering strangers.

All of this says to me that there's a lot of love in this ensemble. It seems to reach out and encompass anyone who comes within their circle. Including organizations like the Chicago Parks Department. Today's shows were benefits to help pay for a playground for Chase Park. The Circus unmistakably see themselves as members of the Chicago community. They support other local artists (witness the Chicago Boyz, with whom one of the Midnight Circus ensemble members has apparently done some training, he was handling the ropes on one end of the double dutch), and they give back to the community when they can. Plus, they bring performers in from other places, like Sweden and Australia and London and Kazakhstan and Russia.

So the love is reason enough to attend a Midnight Circus production. But you also get to see work by artists who are continuing to expand their skill sets. As I mentioned, all of the ensemble members juggle, one of the clowns joined the jumprope, and Chris--who labels himself a Midnight Circus groupie--said he'd never seen the ladder trick before. Good artists are always stretching themselves, and these people apparently do that. Plus, the show is just fun.

If you get a chance to see the Midnight Circus perform, I highly recommend it. Chris says they participate in Chicagoween (they're listed on the website), so that may be your next opportunity. A Midnight Circus performance has energy, thrills, beauty, intelligence and heart. That's a night (or an afternoon) of good theatre, right there.

Talk Like Shakespeare Day

April 24 is Shakespeare's birthday. Mayor Daley has declared it Talk Like Shakespeare Day.

This is so the right city for me to live in.


(Thanks to Heather for the head's up.)