A home cooked meal just for me

the dinner party (before)
Originally uploaded by JKonig.

Okay so this photo is not really representative of last night's dinner, but I just liked the colours and the glassware, so give me a break.

Last night I went to the home of "Aussie Mel & Tongue-Ring Dave" to enjoy a delicious home-cooked meal. Mel had been keen to thank me for giving she and Dave some concert tickets a few weeks back and while I said a thank you wasn't necessary, she persisted.

And so it was that I ended up at their beautiful apartment, in a refurbished carriage house just outside of Downtown, to enjoy some 'experimental' bruschetta and delicious pasta bake. Dave also generously opened their impressive wine cellar too, so the dinner was really rocking. Rather uncharacteristically, I turned up empty handed, so I felt rather awful and will probably do something to remedy that bad karma soon.

Last night the weather was just ideal and so we took our wine glasses up to the building's rooftop and enjoyed beautiful views over the City of Chicago. It looked so peaceful from up there. Lake Michigan looked so calm, and the imposing Field Museum and The Spaceship (aka Soldier Field) just completed the view.

Great food, great friends, and great location. And I was spoilt rotten - it was a real treat.

Am I really better naked?

I left the house in a bit of a rush this morning and even though I freakishly made my bed, I neglected to slip my cell phone (oops, mobile - sorry Jems) into my handbag. As a result, I am feeling positively naked today. And not in a good way either.

During a normal work day, my phone lives on a shelf by Biggsy's desk. Each time I head to the kitchen for a drink refill, I'll stop by Biggsy's desk as a reflex and check for phone calls or messages. On the off chance that my phone rings during the day, it will blast out a number of equally obnoxious ring tones that I carefully selected to represent my friends. For those unlisted numbers, it's a Missy Higgins tune (but you could have guessed that, right?).

So today when I lamented not having brought my phone, and making likely distasteful comments about my nudity, Biggsy declared that he preferred it when I went sans phone, as it meant some bloody peace and quiet. No Missy, no INXS, no nothing. Even when Mero and I reminded Biggsy that he has 70s porn music as his ring tone, somehow my musical choice still ended up to be the dumbest. Sigh, I just can't win.

Lettuce be glad for a cast-iron stomach

I had yesterday off work owing to a rather horrible bout of post-Mexico stomach "issues" that left me feeling rather seedy. In any case, I only trusted peppermint tea, small cups of coffee, and water to nourish my system. Given the obvious light-headedness in which such a diet resulted, I figured staying home was truly the best medicine.

I've come to work today, feeling a little thinner to be honest (woohoo) but managed to have a rather surreal remote conversation with my boss, the essence of which follows:

Boss: Are you feeling better? What did you eat?
Me: Yes, much better thank you. Not sure what I ate, but I will try not to do it again.
Boss: I bet it was the lettuce. Did you eat the lettuce?
Me: [slightly shocked that this would be his first go-to gastro nastie] Uh, yes I had salad on the buffet but they would have been careful not to wash that in tap water.
Boss: You can't be sure of that; you should have asked. Did you drink the water?
Me: Oh no, I know better than to do that [I omitted sharing with him the amount of tequila I drank]. After the travelling I've done incident-free, perhaps it was just my time to get sick...
Boss: Nonsense, it happens all the time. Right well it's good that you're good, you should count yourself lucky. Now, anyway.
Me: Yep, I do. After yesterday's efforts I'm just grateful to be alive. Groan.

Nerds are people too

Originally uploaded by DG N.

I started my volunteering gig today, helping young kids through the Union League Boys and Girls Club. The Cult, as you and I have come to affectionately term it, owns several properties across Chicago, that offer after-school care activities for local school kids. The idea is that the Clubhouse offers the kids a place to come, primarily to do their homework, but also to do arts & crafts, sports classes, and generally just to just muck about in safety after a day cooped up in classes. A cool concept and I am pleased to be part of it.

So tonight I met a Cult representative and we travelled out together to meet the organisers of the Clubhouse that I will be visiting every Tuesday night for the forseeable future. My job will be to supervise "Power Hour", the 60-minute window where I'm supposed to focus the kids on doing their homework. At any one time, I will be supervising 20+ kids aged between 8 and 16. I was joking at work today that I will be fine, just as long as no one asks me any questions about American History. Or Geography. Or Politics. Or Science.

I only spoke to two of the kids today, adorable little girls about 8 years old, and both of them gazed at me open-mouthed, as if I was from another planet. Then they collapsed into a fit of giggles that did not subside until I left the room. Not an altogether unusual reaction by any means, but it made me smile nonetheless. This is going to be a very "interesting" volunteering experience.

The organisers assure me the kids will warm to me. Even more when they get comfortable enough to ask me questions about Australia. My secret mission is to have them all speaking Aussie slang by the end of the year. Or maybe I'll be a bit of a covert Australian Tourism representative and get the kids interested in Aussie animals and plants - I can see papier machied eucalypts and egg carton koalas hanging up all over the art studio already.

And there is an upside for me too, you know. I'll be working in a largely Hispanic neighbourhood. Do I hear "Free Spanish Lessons"?! Muy bien, senorita!

RIP Fearless Steve

Crikeysteve
Originally uploaded by Mr Nylon.

For a long time I was very anti-Steve Irwin. For me, his ballsy and over-the-top antics were almost too Aussie and in a way I thought he was doing our national image a disservice (think "Crocodile Dundee" for an older, but equally cringe-worthy, example of this).

But as time dragged on, and particularly when I came to the States, I realised that Steve Irwin was a real asset to Australia and particularly helpful to our image overseas. Sure he was loud, brazen, and audacious but he was also a family man and a savvy businessman who knew how to work the American public and at the same time showcase the uniqueness of Australia and our wildlife.

And the American media is remembering Steve fondly as news of his tragic death reaches us. America had embraced him as that very quirky but really loved Aussie ambassador. And for all the people saying "well, he died doing what he loved," it still seems an awful shame (if not particularly grisly).

For fear of getting bogged down in melancholy, check out Harry's take on Steve's passing for a more "Aussie" reaction (which is not bad at all really, considering Harry's a Brit).

Hasta la vista, amigos!

Originally uploaded by st_gleam.

I'm sitting here on my bed in Chicago, wondering where the last four days went. Caro and I had an absolute ball sunning ourselves in Puerto Vallarta, even though the presence of Hurricane John just further up the coast from us was never out of our minds for long.

When I started thinking about what I was going to blog about this vacation, I was going to take a day-by-day approach. But on reflection, that would read rather boring. Given that we were on an all-inclusive vacation, we didn't pay for the tequila and beer that we started drinking at 11am. And as a result, sleeping became a regular feature on the day's agenda. Falling asleep on a beach chair under the hot Mexican sun is not something I'd immediately recommend. Tequila has some sort of sedative property I'm sure.

But Caro and I did get ourselves organised and left the resort for one of the days. We put ourselves in the capable hands of Vallarta Adventures, and took off in one of these open-sided vehicles to go smashing and crashing into the heart of Mexico on a Sierra Madre adventure. I actually went hiking in a forest! And no one carried me! The day ended with a late lunch on the beach and, true to form, I slept a little on the beach chair (post margaritas of course). Then on the vehicle back to our resort, the tour guide encouraged us all to have two shots of really good quality tequila. Arriba! Then it was back to our room for yet another sleep.

Are you getting the (restful) picture here?

I didn't take as many photos of Mexico as I'd intended. Partly this was due to my narcolepsy, but also there was just so much relaxation to be had at our wonderful hotel, I didn't want to interrupt the serenity. Honest. So just take my word for it when I say that I am healthy, happy, tanned, and rested. And I'm not entirely ready to see another bottle of tequila just yet.

Are you there, Agatha?

Louisiana Day of Prayer
Originally uploaded by -Angela.

I head off tomorrow for three days in Mexico, where Hurricane John is currently vacationing, in all of his Category 4 glory. How dare a hurricane show up at Puerta Vallarta, right when I'm going there?! And still the airlines are flying there and no one is telling me NOT to travel, so tonight I shall pack for the trip.

As if on cue today at work, as the stories of the hurricane reached me, an Aussie Catholic priest who is new to Chicago called up to find out how to join some of the Aussie expat organisations we have here. After chatting a bit about that, I mentioned my holiday and proffered that my chances for a sunny vacation were less than likely - but remedying that was probably HIS area, not mine. Perhaps he could have a word to someone upstairs?

And Padre's suggestion in response? I should pray to Saint Agatha, the patron saint of natural disasters. And given how hungover I felt all day today, I figured I was probably faring just slightly better than Mexico - and having a quiet word to Agatha wouldn't be too bad.

You take one spring-loaded suitcase

Caro and I are all set to fly to Mexico on Thursday morning, and she's even graciously agreed to swing past my place in a cab at 6am to spare me the drama of finding one myself at that obscene hour of the day. Lex is flying to San Fransisco a little later that same day, so she's going to hitch a ride with us, and hang out at the airport until her flight, which is cool.

Air travel in the States right now makes me slightly nervous, but not for the reasons you might think. I am not worried about bombs or trigger-happy air marshalls or even Air Mexico running out of peanuts mid-flight. I'm more concerned with how I'm going to pack all that I need into my little suitcase! After all, we have to check all our luggage now, and hand luggage is only allowed to be a purse, passport, and house keys. The real bare essentials.

I am a good suitcase packer, having had a lot of experience with the 'stuff it in and run out the door or miss the tour bus' style of clothes folding. I managed 4 weeks in Italy last October with only a carry-on suitcase. Granted most of my photos feature me wearing pretty much the same tshirt/cargo pants combo (thanks to my sister for spotting that trend), but that never concerned me. I haven't had to fit EVERYTHING into only one suitcase before. I have always had the luxury of a carry-on backpack for all those extra bits and pieces that never seem to fold properly. This time I was wondering how I could rig some sort of spring-loaded clothes packing system into my little champion suitcase to maximise the space allowed. Pity the poor customs officer who asks to inspect my luggage. Visions of shoes and undies and toiletries ricocheting across the terminal. Classic.

But Caro must be stressing to the same degree, because she emailed me yesterday asking whether we could simply sit by the pool for 4 days straight and drink cocktails. Sans hesitation, I agreed. So let's see here. Now all I need is a pair of flip-flops, some sunglasses, a bathing suit, and a sarong. For four days of travel. Sweeeeet.

Okay now this is just ridiculous

I have been getting emails all night from the boys at the speed dating, thanking me for matching with them. This is insane. I ticked NO for all but one guy. And he hasn't even written. All these other guys are sending email after email proposing dinner dates, movie screenings, and just general chit chat in a place not quite as noisy as the bar on Saturday night.

Is this karma or just some creepy way a dating service gets its kicks?

It's all fun and games, until...

To end my super-busy weekend, I thought it would be fun to convene a small group at "Guthries Tavern" to have a Pictionary tournament. The Adelaide boys were all set to be part of it, but pulled out at the last minute so the event became a simple catchup over a few beers instead.

I was glad that my speed dating friend could join us, and really she had no excuse since she lives walking distance from the pub and we all would have just marched to her house to fetch her if she'd changed her mind.

But one of the things that we talked about was the gross breach of privacy that happened after the speed dating. The company that organised the event has given my email out to the guys that expressed interest in me. The way it's meant to work is that if I pick Exhibit A as my match, and he also picks me, only THEN does my email get given to him. I get told that Exhibit B and C were also interested, but my details are never passed on to them, because the 'feeling' wasn't mutual.

Anyway that has all been turned on its head, because I've had emails from the guys I didn't fancy, and now I feel obligated to write to them and tell them "thanks but no thanks". That has put me in a really awkward position. The only email I have written so far is back to the speed dating company expressing my disappointment in what I am seeing as a violation of my privacy. I made myself sound particularly tough too, so maybe I'll get a refund?

And your time starts...now

Time Out
Originally uploaded by seanhfoto.

Two of my new friends here in Chicago convinced me to go speed dating last night. Admittedly I didn't take much convincing, but I was still having second thoughts late yesterday. These doubts were only magnified when the organisers rang me in the afternoon to tell me there were way too many men registered and could I perhaps bring some female friends with me?

But Kerry and Kaz and I were brave enough to turn up anyway and all three of us were dressed to impress. We needn't have bothered really. Before the speed dating officially got underway, we had a drink at the bar and met a girl who had just moved to Chicago and had turned up alone so we adopted her and had some good laughs early.

I reported to the organisers first, so I was given poll position, "Speed Dater #1". As it turned out, this was not the best position to be in. Each girl took her place, and the guy sat opposite her. After five minutes of 'dating', a whistle blew and the boy had to stand up and move along to the next girl. But because I was in poll position, the excess of men registered meant that small clusters of guys were waiting to talk to me and were watching me while I tried to have my "dates" with each guy. I was conscious of them staring and it made me rather uncomfortable.

I only 'clicked' with one guy the whole night, and even then I'm not sure whether that was just because I didn't want to write all the guys off and walk away with nothing. I got the real impression that the guys who had registered did so because they have NO experience talking to women. Honestly, these guys had very few conversational skills. They certainly didn't know how to sell themselves in 5 minutes. It was really hard work.

About ninety seconds into my first 'date', the guy told me all about his mother issues and how he'd been cheated on by his last (and only?) girlfriend. Then there was the guy that told me he loved my accent, but couldn't understand a word I was saying and so I had to repeat myself every time. Then there was the guy waiting at the bar and staring at me (naturally) that cut in and volunteered to buy me a Sprite - recognising that we weren't getting a drinks break after all. I quickly and graciously accepted his offer. Two dates later, still no Sprite. I was wondering whether I'd hallucinated it all. But then the Sprite guy rocked up to date me, with the glass of Sprite in hand. Better late than never? Nah.

Stop the Press: Just found out that I had six guys wish to match up with me, including the guy that I picked. Now the question remains, do I contact him after all? I never read the rule book that well...

From dusk till dawn

cliche chicago again
Originally uploaded by dreamerofmeaning.

I am sitting here at my PC absolutely exhausted after last night's adventures. What started out as a quiet night drinking on the patio at a very chic Downtown bar turned into a debaucherous excursion on Chicago's seedy side. I guess it had to happen sooner or later really.

"Citizen Bar" is a great little summertime spot that was revamped at the start of summer to accommodate fans of al fresco dining and drinking. The buzz has died down a bit now but the bar is still popular and fortunately the rain held off last night long enough for us to enjoy the scenery and ambience.

Jen had left her sweater at "The Pepper Canister" after my birthday last week, and a quick call from me to Ivan the Bartender located it and off we trekked to reclaim it. Great to see Ivan again and thank him for his kindness last week. Even better that we got to enjoy some old fashioned pub grub of fish & chips - very tasty.

But we were never going to be there long, and off we went to - I hate to say it - "Duffy's". A college sports bar, it was very funny to watch the patrons fall over themselves to get close to Mr Chicago Bulls who was with us (plus his best mate from Adelaide in town for a visit). I certainly have very talented friends and Mr Bulls knows how to deal with his celebrity beautifully. The copious beers helped. When "Duffy's" closed and the lights were heinously turned on, we shuffled next door straight into hell (also known as "Yakzi's"). One word - awful. Okay two words, awful and crowded.

I fell into bed at 4.30am and calculated that I had been up for 23 hours straight that day. I certainly experienced all that my summery Friday had to offer. The Adelaide boys enjoyed themselves, as did all my other friends, and I even made some new friends out of the night, so it was great fun. Next time my social life takes off like that, I think I'll spend at least some of the work day sleeping...

I'm exercising my veto, man

One of my favourite films is "Empire Records" starring that Aussie dish Anthony LaPaglia (oh and some chick called Renee Zellewegger). If you haven't seen it, basically it's a story about a bunch of 20-somethings that work in a record store that's about to be corporatised. Think "Breakfast Club" in a music store.

Anyway the characters all have very different music tastes and will quite often veto whichever CD one of the characters has put on to play in the store. "I'm exercising my veto, man" becomes the excuse for turning off the dodgy music. And so it is in the Consulate.

I have come to love Missy Higgins and "The Sound of White" album is a regular feature on my computer. But after much derision across the Office, I have to accept that I'm only allowed to play it when no one is here. The veto has been exercised many, many times. Even when the gang gave me an Itunes voucher for my birthday, it explicitly said "NO MISSY HIGGINS". Killjoys.

So here I am, alone in the office, except for Missy Higgins blasting through my PC speakers. And I have another 12 minutes before anyone is allowed to tell me to turn it down. Sigh.

When your kitchen is ornamental

T.O.M.A.T.O
Originally uploaded by ..Pu®e PoiSǒN...

If I really cared, I supposed I'd be a little concerned about my eating habits. Last night's dinner was potato chips. The Indian dudes at the convenience store know that when I come in, I'm either there to use the ATM, buy a six-pack of diet coke, or brown bread. Or all three. My home diet really has become that predictable.

And yes I'll go out and have fine food or else a burger and fries that someone else has prepared and that some other person will clean away when I'm done. But when it comes to old fashioned home cooking, all I care to whip up these days is peanut butter on toast or to microwave baked beans. Quick-cooking rice in microwave soup is another culinary gem of my own creation. And it really is as blah as it sounds.

I like to think that it's weather-related and basically mathematical. My lack of motivation to go to a major grocery store, and then to convert those ingredients into something edible is directly proportional to the amount of sun outside. Warm weather = get outside and stay there. Cold weather = hibernate and bake something. When winter creeps in or, as it does in Chicago, slams into me one day without warning, I'll get motivated and make pots of steaming delicious soup, filling the freezer to capacity in the process. We'll be defrosting the fruits of my labour for months to come. Trust me, the same thing happened last winter.

But until then, friends, water crackers smeared with cream cheese of indeterminate age, washed down with Diet Coke, will have to do. Bon appetit!

You've lost that living feeling

I suppose it had to happen, that inevitable slump after the whirlwind of activity. Here I am, 4.22pm on a Tuesday, feeling like I could fall asleep in about 12 seconds. If only I was given the chance to do that. So I'm about to put myself on the bus home, with only 2 loads of laundry separating me from dreamland.

But a glance at this weekend's diary suggests that this is just the eye of the storm. I'm therefore being presented with the valuable opportunity to sleep now, or regret it later. I have to admit that as much as I enjoy going out and being part of the social scene, there is real appeal in heading home early, putting on pyjama pants, and watching crappy television.

So perhaps I'll spend a few moments and review the photos from Kate and Darren's 30th birthday extravaganza in Adelaide earlier this month. Snap happy party people!

Lights, camera, action!

Chardonnay!
Originally uploaded by newsr.

So okay I'm a TV star now.

Chicago has this television program called Metromix that promotes new bars, restaurants, and clubs. But tonight the show came to my friend's restaurant called "Il Covo" in Bucktown. He is the Exec Chef and is an Aussie so it was easy for him to tell the Metromix crew to come and interview me. And that's how I found myself on TV, mouth full of succulent osso bucco, and eyeballs slightly fuzzy from too much chianti.

So I was interviewed by Summer, the host of Metromix (yes, that's her real name) and we shot the breeze about the restaurant and the food and how it was that I came to dine there. Very routine Q&A but it was high pressure, as far as I was concerned, because of the bright camera lights and the fact that no one touched up my makeup.

But this Friday night, the restaurant opens the upstairs groove lounge, so I've been instructed to "come on Friday and bring girls" haha. The owner of the restaurant is very keen to balance the testosterone in his place I think. But I shall oblige. I'm sure I can find some girls to take along with me that night - we were well looked after tonight, so no doubt we'll be equally well accommodated on Friday.

Birdies, eagles, and big smiles

1607A.JPG
Originally uploaded by parkisthebest2002.

You might recall my post from a few days ago that I was all excited about my first excursion to the PGA. I was particularly chuffed because my Aussie friend had given me a Members Pass so in my head, I was imagining a breezy marquee with endless champagne and big screens giving me regular updates of Tiger Woods. Preferably from all angles.

Alas like all things, my imagination was slightly better than reality. There was no marquee, champagne or big screens. But there WAS Tiger. Oh yes there was Tiger alright.

I managed to catch up with my Aussie friend at the driving range and we went into the members area to use the ladies room. I think the porta-loos at the rest of the Tournament had been specially air lifted in from South East Asia. Ugh they were gross. But we enjoyed the air conditioned comfort of the club rooms, and the flushing toilets located therein, and then we were back out on the course to scout a good spot to sit.

But thanks to my imagination, I wore heels and a flowy skirt with my designer top. I was grossly overdressed and ill prepared for an uphill and downhill trek over the 18 hole Medinah Country Club site (which was beautiful by the way, trust me). Oh for a pair of flip flops and shorts. Sigh.

And the funniest/strangest encounter today? I was standing with my back against a tree, enjoying a rare spot of shade, and a guy approached me. We passed the typical pleasantries about the weather and the state of my health, but then he asked why I wasn't watching the game. I said, "I can't see up there anyway - there's too many people. But," and here I paused to remark on his height, "if I had YOUR legs, I'd be fine". To which he replied, "well if I had YOUR legs...oh, I had better not finish that sentence."

And in the words of Forrest Gump, that's all I want to say about that.

Pondering the night that was

DSC00013
Originally uploaded by Carlito*.

We had Irish car bombs in big glasses, and icy milky shots in small glasses. We had fish and chips with vinegar and fish wraps that allegedly tasted bad. But we also had so many laughs and I, for one, had an absolute blast at my own party - who knew it could happen?

I had my makeup done especially, only because I had never done it before and I thought it would freshen me up a bit after working all day and then being expected to party all night. I was super happy with my makeup job, and the impromptu hair straighten and spritz was an added bonus at the Aveda salon.

My friends mixed really well, better than I'd expected, and I was free to mingle around and try and explain the complicated ways that I know everyone. Every friendship has a story and it's hard to keep it all straight. By the end of the night though, NOTHING I was saying made sense, except to me. But no one minded partly because I think we were all fairly 'festive' by that stage (thanks Ivan the Irish Bartender, you're tops).

I would suggest that my popularity points went up a few notches when Luke, the Chicago Bulls player, came to my party. He's from Adelaide, and is 7ft tall. Needless to say I looked ridiculous even attempting to stand near him. So I made him sit on a barstool the whole time. One of the perks of my job is that we make it our business to get to know as many Aussies as we can, and it's just a treat when one of them happens to be as talented as Mr Chicago Bulls. It was neat.

The Saturday hangover was not so neat, as you would expect. But I will never again underestimate the restorative powers of Gatorade. It was probably invented by NASA or something. I loved my birthday, and I could even handle the headache after-effect. My friends rallied together to welcome my 29th year beautifully and while I'm not yet ready to turn another year older, I could certainly have another party like that one soon enough...

29 Cupcakes and Counting....

Easy Birthday Cupcakes and Recipe from Cook's Country
Originally uploaded by smcgee.

It is now 11.26pm on the night before I turn 29 years old, and I'm actually feeling quite OK about the whole thing. Fortunately I have three small bottles of Chandon champagne inside of me, so that is dulling any adverse feelings I might have about an impending birthday....

Went to the Club tonight for a New Members Happy Hour and met some very intriguing folks. Okay I'll level with you, the Happy Hours are mostly reserved for the new male members of the Club. There is a lot of testosterone in that room. But tonight was great, I met a lot of very interesting people and swapped business cards (within reason of course - not handing those things out willy nilly anymore).

So on Friday night I'm going out with my work friends and a whole bunch of other Aussies and American friends to the Irish bar I went to the other night. Irish car bombs will abound and I just hope everyone has a good time...

Finding the missing peace in Chicago

Tonight was truly beautiful. I was invited to an art reception at Charlie Trotter's, a wonderfully chic restaurant owned by Chef Charlie Trotter himself, who is renowned in Chicago and across the US for his elegant cuisine but also his TV cooking show and culinary schools.

Arriving early, I caught up with J, who I met at the Union League Club's jazz night last Friday. He introduced me to Tenzin, who was on the organising team of the art exhibition we were there to celebrate. It turns out that the exhibition is called "The Missing Peace" and is currently showing in California. The exhibition asks artists to be inspired by the Dalai Lama and the quest for peace. Art installations and submissions took two years to complete but the examples I saw tonight were amazing. Tenzin and I chatted for about an hour, and he held my champagne glass while I partook of the superb hors d'oeuvres (truffles, salmon roe, an emulsion of something foreign...all of it was amazing).

What I didn't realise until much later, after Chef Trotter donated $10,000 to the exhibition on the spot (to much applause), was that Tenzin had been the personal aide to the Dalai Lama for 11 years. I was floored! I had been using him as a coaster for my champagne! I was so embarassed, so my new friend Jen and I went up and apologised to him. He loves us and just laughed and laughed. So humble and a real gentleman.

Then I met a guy outside who donated a $3m turbine to the Georgia Tech Engineering School and used to drink shots with the King of Morocco. He has my business card, because he's going to see what he can do for me, job-wise. He did say that with my blonde hair, I'd be sold in Morocco within minutes. He didn't say how many camels I'd fetch though. I should have asked.

But anyway, my attendance tonight means I'm on the list to be invited to the gala opening of "The Missing Peace" exhibition when it comes to Chicago in October. I hope my buddy Tenzin will be there again, but this time I'll be more respectful than to have him hold my drink while I stuff my face.