My Grandfather

This is not a fun post about living in Chicago or a quest for fried chicken. It won’t be witty or include any Southern colloquialisms. Feel free to stop reading here.

Since I was a little girl, I have always turned to pen and paper when it comes to my feelings to organize my thoughts. The people most important to me have been on the receiving end of handwritten (or typed) notes since I can remember—love notes, apology letters and thinking of you emails. My mind is swimming, and I need a place to let out my emotions.

I am on a plane right now traveling to Philadelphia to join my family as we wait for my maternal grandfather to finally succumb to dementia, which has ravaged his brain and now is shutting down his body one system at a time. With any luck, he will finally let go by the time we make our way to Williamsport.

Causing a Ruckus: St. Patrick’s Day in Chicago

After nearly five years in Chicago, I finally celebrated the most holy of holidays in the Second City—St. Patrick’s Day. In fact, I am pretty sure there some are folks in the city still celebrating…or recovering.

Now you are probably thinking, “Well my town/city/place of employment/school celebrates St. Patrick’s Day, too. That’s nothing special.” Well friends, you would be wrong. You’re probably used to wearing green and hoping not to be pinched. Maybe you do a car bomb and call it a day.

Not in Chicago. We celebrate St. Patrick Kane Day for nine straight days…over two weekends, on the day itself and at every Blackhawks game in between. True Irishmen in their fisherman sweaters and newsboy caps and real gingers come from miles around to party with their “Irish” brothers and sisters across the city.

St. Patrick’s Day kicks off the Saturday before the sacred day with the annual dyeing of the Chicago River. The local plumber’s union pours a mysterious orange concoction into the river and churns it with motor boats. The river magically turns the brightest shade of green, much to the delight of the thousands of people who gather to watch.

My Dearest Chicago…

…you are officially on notice.

Don’t worry…I still love you, but sometimes we have to reassess our relationships and determine whether we may have learned everything we can from each other. This has been a while coming, but I think this may be the case with us. I am going to give you one year to prove me wrong. At that point, I will either stay here, or I will find my next adventure.

We have been together nearly five years, and we have had some good times together. While you have continued the charming edge you have built over 179 years, I am not the same person I was when I came here. In fact, this Carolina girl has absorbed a little of that edge to go with my Southern charm.

You will always hold a place in my heart. In five years, you stood by me through love, loss and life’s little curve balls…oh, and winter…that one two years ago was really a test of our commitment to each other.

I am not that angry, overweight twenty-something anymore. Today I am 33, and I happily look in the mirror every day and like what looks back at me. My head is clear, and my eyes are open.

You have given me five…soon to be six…places to call home, and I have sampled several of your neighborhoods. Writing these words is making me nostalgic, but I have let my reason outweigh my heart.

Now, I know I need to do my part, too. A relationship is between two people, and it will take both of us to tango. That means I plan on living it up this summer, making the most of my job, doing new things, lifting heavier and using you as home base to do a little traveling.

Chicago, I need you to help me learn something new and reignite the passion between us.

Love always,

Bethany

P.S. We need to do better at sharing our adventures with people.

Y’all Listen Up…My 2016 Chicago Wish List (And 2015 Recap)

I hope all y’all had your hoppin’ John and collards last week…2016 is going to be a good year.

Before I get too far into this post, I want to thank the 600 people who checked out my blog last year. I am humbled by how much people have enjoyed Bless Yer Heart, and I have to admit I love writing it.

Now to the task at hand…I thought I would kick off 2016 with an update to the Chicago Wish List I made last year and add to it for the new year. I didn’t cross many things off the list, but I had a blast nonetheless. Here is what last year looked like:

Teachin’ Y’all to Talk Southern – Part 1

Every now and then, a good Southern woman sticks her foot in her mouth. And I am no exception. While I am waiting to be readmitted to charm school, I have a little spare time on my hands to write for y’all. I figured this was an ideal time to teach y’all how to speak Southern in the Midwest.

It’s no secret that Southerners have a gift with words. We have an entire dictionary of colloquialisms that make other people blink in confusion while they try to figure out what we just said.

Most people who have met me will quickly point out that I do not have a Southern accent. This is true thanks to my damn Yankee parents. I do, however, use a lot of Southernisms in my everyday speech.

Here are a few of my favorites, what they mean and how to use them in the Midwest:

Gettin’ Out of Dodge and Headin’ to Iowa

While I live in the Midwest, I am making it a point to explore the region. There have been trips to St. Louis, Milwaukee, Minneapolis and little towns in between. This past weekend I checked another state off my list…Iowa.

For those of you unfamiliar, that’s 75% vowels and 100% awesome.

The Hobo Museum in Britt, Iowa

Going to small town USA in the country’s heartland felt like going home without the long drive. Living in a big city, I forget about the things I miss most about growing up in a rural area. And it amazed me how Clear Lake was so much like where I grew up.

Sure you have to replace expansive cotton fields with corn, but that’s where the differences end. It’s towns like Clear Lake that are the lifeblood of this country, with people who aren’t afraid of hard work, where you help your neighbor, and a smile and wave go a long way.

Our trip to Iowa wasn’t sexy. But I have to admit it was one of the best retreats I have had in some time. There was something calming about returning to the simpler things in life.

Finer Than Frog Hair: Working in the Big City

Technically it’s “finer than frog hair split four ways,” but regardless, I’m good, y’all. They say the only constant in life is change, and hot damn, has it been crazy over here.

My four years in Chicago have never been dull. I graduated from Northwestern University, moved five times, been through four winters and three-ish summers (woo!), got divorced, lost 60 lbs…the list keeps growing.

Basically I am not the same person I was when I moved here…and that’s a really good thing!

My first week on the job

Last month, I added another achievement to my list. On the actual four-year anniversary of closing the door to the moving truck in South Carolina, I started a new job.

And not just any job. After nearly three years of reverse commutes, I finally got my wish to work in downtown Chicago, and I feel like an honest-to-God Chicagoan for the first time.

Big City Karma…I Lost My Wallet & Phone

Chicago is a big city, and I think sometimes we get almost immune to the world around us. Every now and then, though, something happens that is delightfully surprising.

Last weekend, we ran errands…a trip to Target, a run to Sams…basically there was a lot to carry up to my apartment. I got out of my car, set my wallet and phone on the roof and carried in the first load. Then we came down and got the second load, closed the hatch and settled in for Sunday chores.

Fast forward a few hours, and I can’t find my phone. We started looking through the apartment…no luck. I was beginning to get nervous. We then went down to look in the car…and low and behold, there is a note taped on my window.

Jake had my “personal items” and give him a call to get them back.

That’s right, folks. In the middle of one of the busiest neighborhoods in Chicago—a mere three blocks from Wrigley Field—Jake sees my wallet and phone sitting on my car, and instead of just walking by or taking them, he picks them up and leaves me a note.

We called, and he gave us an address around the corner. I walked over to get my stuff, and it was all there. And to take it a step further, Jake said he called 311 (non-emergency police line) to find out what to do, and they told him to mail it to me. So glad he didn’t do that…the address isn’t updated on my license!

I like to think of this as karma. Three years ago, I found a kid’s wallet on the train. He was visiting from California. He had nothing in his wallet that I could use to contact him directly, but he had a AAA card. I called them, and they called him, and he called me. And he was reunited with his wallet.

Perhaps it’s a little sad that in this day, we celebrate the fact that someone did the right thing, but this girl is certainly happy that Jake’s mama raised him right.

Anywho…morale of the story, y’all…what goes around comes around, so don’t be a jerk!

Busier Than a One-Legged Man in a Butt-Kicking Contest

Hot damn, ya’ll. It’s been too long! Have you missed my Southern charm?

I took a hiatus for the winter…and like any good Chicago winter, we skipped Spring and went right into construction season.

I reckon I’ll get you caught up. Since I have mostly been working out and watching hockey, I was apprehensive to write much. I promised you a blog about a Southern girl living in the big city not another fitness/weightloss blog, but then I realized part of my story is about trying to get healthy in Chicago.

Don’t worry, though. It hasn’t been all lifting weights and eating canned tuna. I have plenty of exciting things to share with you, too.

Let’s start with a getting healthy update. Overall, I have seen progress since starting at Meatheads five months ago; I have lost 8 lbs, dropped 5.4% body fat and lost nearly 2 inches on my hips, thighs and waist. There’s definition in my arms and the faint outline of something ab-like. My weightloss has pretty much stopped, but I still get on the scale daily and feel let down—I am my own worst critic.

Oh, My Stars! My First Blackhawks Game

Guess what, y’all?! I have officially crossed off the first item on my 2015 Chicago Wish List. That’s right…I have now attended my first Chicago Blackhawks game, and it was even better than I could have imagined. We played the dreaded Detroit Red Wings, an Original Six rival even though we are no longer in the same division.

My evening was the epitome of all things Chicago, and the city truly felt like home. I started the night with a few pints of Goose Island’s Green Line on Chicago Ave. before making the trek to the UC (the United Center to non-Chicagoans). Oh and of course, I wore my Kane shirt!

My friend received two tickets out of the blue, and he refused to tell me where we were sitting. I just figured they would be up high, but I didn’t care…as long as I was in the building to cheer on my boys. As we made our way to our seats, I realized we were in for a treat…16 rows from the ice. Better than TV!

The house lights dimmed, and a laser light show began on the ice. Chants of “Detroit sucks” and “Let’s go Hawks” echoed throughout the arena while the starting line-up skated onto the ice. In true Chicago fashion, Jim Cornelison belted out the National Anthem flanked by one active-duty solider and one veteran while we hooted and hollered as loud as we could. This, folks, is a Chicago tradition that can’t be missed, and it gave me goose bumps.