When your husband suggests a restaurant crawl through some of the best restaurants in Albany Park to help the North River Commission and the local business community, remember that it’s nearly impossible to eat 18 “taster portions” of Middle Eastern, Mayan, Italian, Guatemalan, Mexican, Cambodian, Korean and Filipino food without wanting to perform some sort of bulimic purging ritual on yourself afterwards.

—- And no fair rationalizing the calories by biking from one location to the next. —-

It was over 80 degrees in Chicago on Sunday morning. Mr. Hot and I mapped out our activities for the day between refilling coffee cups and reading the newspaper. A trip to the fruit market was a must – summer weather means salads and fresh juice, no more heavy winter food allowed. Then perhaps a bike ride down to Humboldt Park, part of our quest to explore Chicago neighborhoods while getting some much needed exercise. I may be working my ass off, but somehow, it’s not doing much for the way my pants fit.

We told Poopy the Puppy to behave himself, grabbed keys and cash, and headed out. The sun had come out of hiding, the puddles from the previous days’ rain were gone and the muddy spots had dried into cracked plaster spots. It felt so good to be in shorts and flip-flops again.

As we walked along Lawrence Avenue, sirens sounded in the distance. Looking ahead, we saw flashing lights at the front of the long line of cars that were stopped between where we stood and the bridge over the North Branch of the Chicago River. The screeching of the emergency vehicles coming from behind us was getting louder by the second. Fire engines. Police cars. An ambulance.

And then, there it was. The Chicago Police Marine Rescue and Recovery unit.

I looked at Mr. Hot and touched his arm as the realization hit me.

They found him.

One week, to the day, after an 8-year-old boy in our neighborhood fell into the river. After watching the news every morning hoping to hear that his body had been found and his family could have the goodbyes they desperately needed. After hearing how his distraught father had gone into the depths himself to try to find his son.

They found him.

—- Millions of goosebumps crawled up my arms in the heat while I tried not to cry. —-

• Fresh fruit – strawberries, pineapple, bananas and kiwis – from the supermercado down the road.
• A box of mangos for $5 from the guy on the corner.
• An almost-ready for prime time living room.
• Chicago Closet Works. They saved me. And relatively inexpensively, too.
• This stupid cold that I’ve had since Wednesday is almost gone.

—- It’s 84 in Chicago right now. All the windows are open and there’s FRESH juice in my future. —-

• Riding bikes around the city with Mr. Hot.
• A sunny weekend.
• Wheat cakes for breakfast at the local diner.
• Cats sleeping in the windowsill.
• A parking place in front of the building.

—- And the smell of the corn dogs Shortman is heating up for dinner. —-

Wage a battle against embitterment and take part in Grace in Small Things. Thanks to Schmutzie, as always.

There is no such animal. The End.

Naw, I take that back. The nicest of the nice, Anonymous Boxer, has this thing she does every Wednesday. She comes up with a theme, and asks for movie clips that epitomize that theme. In your humble opinion, of course. (Which blogger out there has a humble opinion?)

So, this week, “Best Adaptation of a Book to Movie” had me stumped. I just don’t think that there’s any kind of comparison. Casting has much to do with it, I’m sure. For instance, I can state, with certainty, that Molly Ringwald was a beyond-awful Frannie Goldsmith (okay, The Stand was a made-for-TV-movie, but still). And of course, once you’ve seen the movie, every time you read the book you picture the characters as the actors (seriously, I dare you to read Bridget Jones’ Diary without hearing and seeing Renee Zellweger in every entry).

Shush. Yes, I re-read Bridget Jones every once in a while time I run out of new books and absolutely, positively NEED to read something.

But. In the interest of playing my friend’s game (and saving you from Reason #28,362 I hate moving), I give you this.

—- The movie didn’t have the same impact on me as the book, but the casting? Awesome. Freakin’ awesome. —-