Thanks, it's BEAN a wonderful time!

Before you even start, I know. I've been lax in posting. Thanks to all the readers--OK, reader--who reminded me that my audience awaits a Chicago post. Crazy Cat Lady, here ya go.

As an aside, I just have to say that the only thing that could make the new downtown library better is if it served beer. OK, and was open till midnight or so. But then I guess I'd be sitting right now in a bar with books, and not the library.

Anywhich, they gots Herman Miller chairs and I think I could work here if I weren't afraid someone would steal my laptop every time I got up to pee. I just picked up a book called "Dead Dog." that promises to be "a riotous road trip from an Arizona trailer park to hell." I love this place.

Chicago, as it turns out, was just what the doctor ordered for the post-holiday funk. I've had bloggers' block on what to say about it, and I just can't think of one damn thing negative to say, which means I'm just gonna post some pictures and tell you I had a really, really good time.

Here, of course, is the main feature of our trip. Behold, the bean: (cue angels singing)

How cool is that? On a snowy-but-not-frigid day? Are you kidding? It was like buttah. Here's C and I geeking out (and her brother with his girlfriend, who were slightly taken aback by our geekiness) over our reflections:

And what I can only say must be the bean's butt, as seen from the underside:

That is one awesome piece of polished stainless steel, lemme tell ya.

Eventually, we were able to tear ourselves away to go have a snack and a drink at the nearest bar, conveniently located underneath the Bean in Millennium Park and adjacent to the skating rink, all the better to watch people bursting their arses.

Then we went to the Art Institute. Fabulous. Masterpieces by every Famous Dead Artist you can think of, all up close and personal. My favorite thing? The dolphin ride:

I don't remember what it's really called or who did it, but when I get rich I'm going to have an artist make me one of these for my yard. It was all I could do to not jump on it. (In my defense, it has been a while since I've ridden anything. I mean anything.)

From the Art Institute, we went to another bar and had some more drinks and an appetizer. We picked up my good friend from his Printer's Row condo (ooh la la) and headed to Chinatown for dinner.

I do not have a picture of this, but trust me when I say the restaurant served deep-fried pigeon. There was a picture on the menu. I am about 90 percent certain that they went out on the sidewalk, kicked a pigeon in the head, plucked it, took it inside and dropped it in the Fry-Grandaddy, beak and all, fresh to order. I did not order that, nor did I order the duck tongue entree. The spicy green beans were delicious.

Sunday, we had a fabulous breakfast of Chinese leftovers with eggs (sans whole pigeon or parts of duck) and went shopping. Of course, we started with a brief repast at Quartino (where wine is cheaper than water), then hit the stores where dresses came sized conveniently in 0-8 and cost more than my first car.

After shopping, we were thirsty again. We found a friendly looking and clean-smelling place called Mike's near our parking lot, and had a cool refreshing beverage. Apparently it's the kind of place that wants to make sure their patrons can always wash their hands. Or dishes, or whatever:

Annnd, there you have it. That was Chicago. We'll return shortly to our regular bitter, sardonic posting schedule.