4 favorite Chicago places you absolutely must visit during BlogHer

Am I the only one getting a little anxious over all there is to do BlogHer weekend? How in the world are we ever supposed to pay attention to the conference schedule? Especially when there are so many fabulous places in Chicago to eat, toast each other, and devise wicked plans with our favorite lady-friends to take over the interwebs?

Since BlogHer is back in my city (thank you, very much), allow me to be of service to you in your time of scheduling mayhem and big city panic. Here are 4 places I personally think you must go to, if not frequent, while you are in town.

Mind you, these are not just good places. These are some of my very favorite spots in the city. And kittens, you know I would not steer you in the wrong direction in my very own town. Gather your grrrls and put these four places on your itinerary. Now. Seriously. I insist.

1. Violet Hour - This speakeasy-inspired lounge, I've been told, is the perfect place to take your mistress. Perhaps that is because of the high-backed chairs snuggled into dimly-lit pairs. Or perhaps because the louder bar area and the hallway where you will inevitably wait impatiently are partitioned off my smoky-colored velvet curtains. Whomever you choose to accompany you to this, one of my very favorite spots in the city, choose someone who will enjoy the Wicker Park people watching while you stand in line, will ooh and ahh over the gorgeous design and stunning marble bar and will sip one too many ginger syrup and rosehips cocktails with you once you get inside.

2. Anthropologie - If you have only ordered from the catalog or don't have one in your city and you want to shop Chicago style, skip the Magnificent Mile and hop a cap to Anthropologie (there is one on State Street and one on Southport in the Lakeview neighborhood). Trust me, you want to be inside this store. Flipping the pages of the catalog will be mere foreplay for you once you've been to one. The clothes are divine and the sale room is a corner of heaven. Whether you need a sassy little skirt, a pair of good ass jeans, a swingy evening cardigan or a shabby chic something or other to place on your desk when you get home, you will not regret investing in an Anthropolgie souvenir for yourself.

3. Moon Palace in Chinatown - Shhh, don't tell anyone but...one time I was eating with my parents at this family favorite restaurant and we saw Alpana Singh, the glowingly gorgeous, clever host (who has a killer blog) of Chicago's prideful "Check, Please!" show on PBS. When my mother said she has always wanted to write in to nominate Moon Palace to be highlighted on "Check, Please!", Alpana begged her not to. She said it would get too busy and she would be so upset if she couldn't get a table there (now don't the four of you go nominating Moon Palace and making me look bad in front of Alpana after I pinky swore her I'd keep silent). Normally, that would be enough said for a Chicagoan, but I must tell you to be sure to order the sesame chicken and Szchuan green beans. After dinner, wander in and out of the shops and be sure to get a giant bag of fortune cookies to take back to the hotel for after- afterparty noshing.

4. Isabella Lingerie - Of course, of course. You have plenty of Targets bra shops where you live. As much as I am sure you think the 20-jobbers you've been wearing thin are doing a fine job for you, you need to visit the Boobologist. And the Boobologist (or one of her many wonderful staffers) is only at Isabella Lingerie. Trust me and my grrrls (Danielle and Jeanne), this woman will do wonders for your girls. You will spend a lot of money. And when you see your boobs in BlogHer pics all over the the damn place, honey, you will know it was worth every penny.  Take a cab to Isabella in the Lincoln Park neighborhood, where there is very little parking and too many ex-sorors and guys jacked up on Armani cologne and their own biceps who live there to stay way too long. When everything's hoisted, head down the street to Lori's Shoes and try on some fabulous footwear. Also expensive, also hoisting, also fucking fabulous.

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4 little ways I know it is really, truly, thank you Jesus, finally summer

1. Popsicles on the porch.

2. Flowers in jar vases.

3. Cherries in a bowl.

4. Smell of marigolds in the air.

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One more June 29th

In 2002, this was a beautiful, blue sky, sunny day. I was finishing a paper I had hanging over my head, long overdue and necessary for me to finally, finally finish a graduate degree I'd technically completed three years earlier. My parents were sitting on the deck at their lake house. My brother was riding his motorcycle on a long road in Virginia with a few of his friends who had just rounded the bend ahead of him.

I won't ever forget that day because it is the day I logged off the dial-up internet service at my parents house and the phone immediately rang and the hospital chaplin told me my brother my brother had been in an accident, was being transported from the ER to the ICU, and yes, that it was very, very serious.

[My brother and I last summer at my grandmother's 100th birthday. We are blessed to share the genes of many fighters.]

You may know the story. I've talked about it many times here and other places. That day changed the course of the lives of everyone in my family and so this day is one that need to acknowledge.

[My brother at age 11 or 12. Such a baby face. I mean...so cool.]

I call this day my brother's Survive-iversary. I occasionally envision my brother in his toughest moments --- swollen, marred by road rash, stapped down and cuffed by a neck brace and countless tubes. Fitfully unconscious for days. Crying out in confusion and pain when the coma began to recede. Taking his first steps after re-teaching his body to walk. Sipping rootbeer floats in celebration of being released to do rehabilitation in Chicago, then to return to school again months later.

Even those celebrations were hard. The constant process of letting go of someone so vulnerable made my parents and I ache, even as we toasted rootbeer floats back at him, even as we thanked God when his skull, jaw, teeth, tracheotomy wound, scars, and pieces of his life mended.

The balance of that is that we did find joy, laughter, and amazingly, some good times in the midst of all that pain, in the harsh light of the hospital. In the years since we have found ways to do that again and again when the road ahead of us is uncontrollable and bending, grieving and healing, crying and laughing in turn.

Last year, I didn't write about my brother's survive-iversary here. It was just too much at that time for me. But like we do every year, he and I shared a moment together on the phone. Just like it all began, we stopped what we were doing and focused in on that moment in time.

[My family, last summer in Virginia.]

This year, we exchanged acknowledgements on Facebook before we found each other on the phone. The messenger may be changing but the message is the same. This year, unlike others, I did not cry. But on this beautiful, blue sky, sunny day, I did feel the same rush of relief I did when I finally got there, became the first family member to arrive in the ICU seven years ago, the same rhythmic prayer of thanks:

He's alive. He's alive.

It was enough. It was everything. It was June 29th.

Our own little public service announcement: My brother suffered a traumatic brain injury and was wearing a helmet. We still advocate helmet laws in every state, angering some commenters and connecting us to others. You can read more about our efforts to promote helmet laws and helmet use here and here.

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