Photo Essay

Wow, I'm bad at keeping this updated. Sorry!

Even Chief is disappointed in my blogging skills.

Here's a photo safari of what has been keeping me so busy. I mean, really...is there anything better than summer? (Answer: Fall. But that's a different blog post altogether.)

Two of my favorite people in the whole world got married! And then two of my favorite people in the whole world moved to STL without me, and I miss them dearly. I can't wait to visit them and all my other STL loves at the end of July! (PS Seriously, how beautiful is that dress?)

This team is rocking North Avenue Beach on Sunday nights...in pastel pink shirts. They were supposed to be hot pink. My bad, guys.

These three assisted in a rare mid-week blackout involving a Cubs game, a rain delay and (apparently) shots. This picture was one of those lovely surprises you discover on your phone when you're trying to find evidence of what happened the previous night.

My family came to town, and one of my sister's college friends took us to the 26th floor viewing deck of Trib Tower. While this was cool, I was way more excited to get a tour of the newsroom. (Read: dork.) You can take the kid out of journalism, but you can't the journalism out of the kid. My big sister and I were were in journo heaven.

I fell in love with my adopted city all over again.

I fell in love with Chick-Fil-A all over again. And Rika fell in love with the vast array of dipping sauces.

My neighborhood (aka backyard) got Proud. Sad I missed the parade, but my pride can't be contained to just one weekend anyway.

My brother and sis-in-law came to town, and we celebrated Christie's 30th birthday and baby shower. Just a little bit longer until Baby Louis arrives!

And speaking of babies, this little one isn't so little anymore! Miss Kallie kept Aunt Jane (and Cousin Chief) on the move for two weekends in a row. Chief is currently passed out in the recliner, and I just woke up from a two-hour nap. Mission accomplished, Kal!

Gleeful!

My brush with fame. Literally – our shoulders brushed.

So last Friday after work, I get on the el with the mass transit elite to go home from work. I get in the last car like always (which lets me out closest to the set of stairs I need to take at my stop…there is a lot of thought put into my commute). This car was relatively empty (whoo-hoo!) and I see an open seat right away. Having a seat on the el is the equivalent to winning the lottery in Jane World, so I’m pretty pumped. EXCEPT! The kid in the connected seat has his bag of Frisbees© sitting on it. Placing a bag on an empty seat during the 5pm commute is nothing short of treason in Jane World, so me being the subtle person I am, I sit down anyway – partially on the bag of Frisbees© and partially moving them out of my way with my bulldozer of an ass.

(Sidenote: I’m actually quite polite on the train normally, I promise.)

So I’m sitting there, and I happen to look up at the guy across from me and have the following conversation with myself:

Disbelieving Jane: “Wow, that guy really looks like the Asian kid from Glee. But why would he be taking the el? I bet that poor guy gets that all the time.”

Rational Jane: “Oh, so they all look the same to you?”

Rational Jane wins for the moment, until I catch the eye of Frisbee© guy out of my periphery. I do sort of a half turn (we are literally sitting shoulder to shoulder, so a full turn would have been incredibly awkward) and Frisbee© guy gives me a smirk that plainly says, “Yes, we are who you think we are.”

Holy eff, it’s Puck.

I sat on Puck’s bag of Frisbees©. Puck smirked at me. Holy eff.

Unfortunately, once the brain of Teenage Jane had time to process all this – and text Schwind, obviously – Puck and Mike Chang (real names: Mark Salling and Harry Shum Jr.) were getting off the train. But don’t worry, it ended with the following exchange:

Puck: <attempting to pull his bag of Frisbees© from partially underneath me>

Remorseful Jane: I’m so sorry!

Puck: <smirk>

Sigh. He’s just as pretty in real life.

By the way, I later found out via Twitter that they were actually discs for disc golf, not Frisbees©.

That Awkward Moment…

When you realize just how awkward you are.

I’ve been blessed with the gift of being good at small talk. Between sorority recruitment and journalism training, I’ve become skilled at formulating my next question or statement while still listening to what the other person is currently saying. This is a great talent to have, especially for someone like me who cannot stand silences in conversations.

Unfortunately, I’ve noticed there seems to be a disconnect between my brain and my body.

Halfway through conversations, I’ll start to have the following internal monologue:

“How long have your arms been crossed? You probably look really unfriendly right now. Uncross your arms – slowly now, make it natural – good, now you look a lot more welcoming. Wait, now your arms are dangling listlessly at your sides…that doesn’t feel right either. Try the one arm cross. Good, that looks ok. Wait, don’t break eye contact to look down! Now you’re all shifty eyed and it looks like you’re hiding something! Stop fidgeting! There is nothing on your face! Damnit, how’d your arms get crossed again?”

And all this is going on while I’m still conversing, giving the other person the impression that I’m a really engaging, articulate seizure victim.

At 26, I’ve given up hope this is something I’ll grow out of, so I think I’m just going to own it. No, no, I’m not just fixing my hair for the 7th time in five minutes. I totally meant to turn that jerky arm movement into a high five!

(Seriously, I’m not the only one afflicted with this, right??)