PERFECT all the way around

The front page news in the Tribune this morning was about White Sox player

Mark Buehrle whose stellar pitching performance on July 23 turned an ordinary afternoon game between the Sox and the Tampa Bay Rays into a historic major league moment - the perfect game.

One word headlines like PERFECT! and REMARKABLE said it all for Chicago fans. Even in Cubs bars like the Billy Goat Tavern in Wrigleyville, people were watching and hoping. And Jeff the bartender cranked the Billy Goat siren, usually reserved for great moments in Cubs history.

That's Chicago for you - open minded and big hearted.

We had the game on at home - then headed to the city for our own slice of perfection. Where else can you do so many awesome things within easy walking distance?

We walked around Millennium Park

Played miniature golf

Toured the new Modern wing of the Art Institute

(view looking out at the rained soaked park)

Enjoyed a concert at the Jay Pritzker Pavilion

And ended our evening with dinner in the park. Perfect!

Now, thanks to Buehrle, July 23 will be remembered for something

else besides our anniversary!

Ozzie Up A Tree

There's a young boy named Cash who lives next door to our farm. The last two times we've been at Covo Hills, he shinnied up the tallest pine tree by camp faster than I could yell, "Be careful, Cash!"

He catches snapping turtles in the pond, rides his ATV through the hills and enjoys hanging with us when we're there.

He knows all about the animals in the woods, their habits and their whereabouts. He doesn't much worry about keep his shirt clean or washing his hands before lunch.

It occurred to me as I watched Ozzie climb the tree out front our home that

he and Cash are the "same age".

At four months old, Ozzie is just like a third grader - curious, fearless, mischievous, happy

and eager to go from one fun activity to the next.

I've never seen Cash at the end of the day, but I'm guessing he falls into bed exhausted

and sleeps hard just like Ozzie.

Ode to the Hammock

It's mid-July and already lists are appearing about the "ten things to do before summer fades"

Some of the things I have done that scream summer are:

Camped at Covo Hills Farm

Walked the hills

Rode the ATV

Ate corn cooked on the fire

Witnessed a magnificent display of fireflies in the cornfield

Sat around a campfire under the stars

Watched the moon appear over the trees

Planted a pumpkin patch

Planted a vegetable and herb garden

Made bruschetta with my fresh basil and tomatoes

Grilled seafood, chicken, burgers etc.

Rode the train to downtown Chicago

Walked around Millennium Park,

Lurie Gardens and saw a never-before-seen

view from the new Art Institute skybridge

Lunched at the Park

Dined in Little Italy and at Navy Pier

Watched a parade

Saw fireworks light the night sky - not once but three times!

Dined on the lawn

Cheered for the White Sox and Kane County Cougars

Got a new kitten

Played bags and bocce ball on the lawn

Attended a June wedding and beautiful backyard reception

Walked to downtown Hinsdale many times

Walked at Fullersburg Woods several times

Attended a couple art festivals

Attended a new church

Shopped at an outlet mall

But what I haven’t done is lie in our backyard hammock.

The thought is so tempting, the hammock is so inviting, but I never plop into the cocooning comfort for a good read or lazy day nap. Nestled amid perennials beneath a canopy of leaves, it’s a shady afternoon retreat just begging to be enjoyed before the changing seasons transforms the glorious summer garden into a blanket of white and the hammock becomes just another winter landmark.

For the Record

The year mentioned in my "Summer Song" recollection was 2000, not 2004 as

stated below. Time passes so quickly, it's easy to mistake one year for the next - but four!

Summer Songs from the '60's

Katie’s friend pulled into the driveway last night, a popular tune blaring from the radio of her Volkswagen convertible. When you’re 19 and hanging with your friends, summer songs become the soundtrack of long days and breezy nights, an anthem to freedom and friendship.

I really got to thinking about summer songs after reading the Chicago Tribune this morning. Reporters listed their favorites with reasons why. There are so many great classics but the ones we remember are accompanied by vivid memories of other times, other places.

The Sixties…

’62 Telstar - The Tornadoes

We moved from New Jersey to Phoenix in ’62. I rode the train out west with my mother, brother and grandparents. My brother and grandfather flew back to drive out on Route 66 with my father. I remember my dad saying they heard the instrumental Telstar many times on the cross-country trip. I felt like I was living the trip with them every time I heard the song.

‘64 A Summer Song - Chad & Jeremy

The song has had different meanings during different times of my life. The last time it spoke to me was in the summer of 2004, 40 years after its original release. Jeff and I and our friends Janie and Brian were spending a few days at Susan and Steve’s Wisconsin lake house. We had a great day on the lake and were playing bumper pool when “A Summer Song” came on the radio. Susan and Steve were moving out of state at the end of the summer and I dreaded saying goodbye, but knew from the song “that all good things must end some day”.

‘65 California Girls - The Beach Boys

Growing up in Phoenix, I longed to be a California girl. I envied the models on the cover of teen magazines. They were tan, blond and always on the beach. For a couple weeks each summer, I too was a Cali girl, vacationing a block from the ocean in La Jolla or Oceanside.

‘66 Cherish -The Association

I was in middle school in the summer of ’66. My friends were having boy-girl parties with dancing. The “slow songs” were popular when you had a boyfriend and Cherish was the one we always requested even though it was about unrequited love. I still remember the initial feeling of dancing with someone I liked.

‘67 Brown Eyed Girl - Van Morrison

A free spirited love song with laughing sunlight, a rainbows wall and a chorus of Sha la la’s that’s so great to sing along to. I was the brown-eyed girl in the summer of ’67 hanging with my friends at the schoolyard, watching the boys play baseball and dreaming of things to come.

‘68 Born to be Wild - Steppenwolf

This was always on the radio during our family’s summer trip to Oceanside with my best friend Barbara. This song was the antithesis of who we were with its hard driving rhythm and rebellious lyrics, but we loved it anyway.

’69 Get Together - The Youngbloods

I remember going to The Youngbloods concert and hearing this song about peace, love and brotherhood during the Vietnam War era and wondering why young men had to die.

To be continued….

Don't Rain On Our Parade

One of Hinsdale's finest events is the Fourth of July Parade. It's not too fancy, some would even call it folksy for such an affluent area, but therein lies its charm. Families on the parade route line their parkways with blankets and chairs. The rest of us claim a downtown space and eagerly await the procession that begins with yellow and red fire engines from neighboring villages and ends with a horse-drawn stagecoach. The parade is open to everyone from politicians to little leaguers, marching bands to local non-profits. The result is pure Americana with a welcome dose of patriotism.

Varsity Football team collecting supplies for the food pantry.

Friends enjoying the parade despite sporadic summer rain.

A Mew Beginning

It's amazing how much has changed since April 15! My geraniums were still wintering inside, sheltered from the unpredictable Chicago weather. Jeff was commuting weekly to his consulting position in Dallas. Katie was still away at college in Arizona. And, I was relishing my newfound freedom after 13 years of weekly deadlines for our community newspaper.

Then - the Swine flu epidemic put a hold on Jeff's commuting. Katie and her roommate Meghan were back in Hinsdale, happy to be home. I was so happy to have Katie home, I helped unpack her well stuffed suitcases and stocked her favorite foods. Soon, high school friends came knocking, glad to be reunited as a group, but forever changed by their freshman experiences.

But the biggest change is not having my husband and daughter home. The biggest change is a gray kitten named Ozzie.

Katie and I chose Ozzie at the humane society in May - one day after my birthday and one year after our beloved Smokey died. When we first brought Smokey home, Katie was in second grade Nick was in sixth grade and I was more focused on them than the kitten. He had a whole neighborhood of kids to play with and quickly adapted to life inside and out.

Not so this time. I'm like the new mother of a toddler who has transformed my formerly "emptynester" home into a space where balls roll free, empty toilet paper rolls litter the floor and fleece blankets cover sofas and chairs. He jumps on countertops, scratches upholstery and pounces on anything that moves.

Lucky for Ozzie, a few weeks into our relationship when I felt like we'd made a mistake taking on a kitten, I fell in love.