My mind’s a bit cloudy, which I blame on jet lag and being pre-menstrual. I’m back in chilly San Francisco, making future plans to reproduce with Brian-san, and then move to Chicago at some point after the baby is born and growed a bit. We discussed it (again) and came to the conclusion that though we do love Chicago a lot, right now we live in SF and have good jobs and insurance and more security than we could guarantee in a new city. And hey let’s face it, I ain’t getting any younger. I technically have another eight years or so of safe babymaking ahead of me, but I may as well get started while we are as cozy as we are now.

So I’ll be canceling that subscription to Birth Control Pills Monthly, and I have an appt set up for a month from tomorrow at an ob-gyn recommended by my boss.

I lay in bed this morning recovering from strange dreams of plummeting elevators and women having abortions. Then started imagining all these moving scenarios in my mind again, concluding with a vision of myself in Chicago and going to school but having no health insurance and maybe even being pregnant in some blizzard. I dunno. People move with babies all the time. It’s not like it’s so unusual to relocate with a child and two awesome cats.

And our cats are totally awesome. We got home from Chicago and Simon and Sasha were curled up together on the sofa. Simon whipped his head around to look at me, all big-eyed, and then stretched as he hopped down to the floor to greet me. I crawled down on the rug next to him, and he flopped onto his big fat side as I buried my face in his fur, hearing his motor running furiously. Ok so he remembered me.

Last night we went out to the East Bay for Bruce’s birthday party. His girlfriend Felicia is awesome. She baked two fantastic pies for the occasion, one apple and one banana cream. I was amazed at her baking skillz without the aid of electric mixers, beaters, or processors. She talked about rolling the dough out between sheets of waxed paper. I loved how their place was decorated. It was so cute and sunny and perfect and it kind of made me think our place looks like crap. Decorating well takes so much thought and care, maybe I haven’t done that enough. It means taking things away as well as adding things. I even liked their IKEA bookcase.

Anyway, Chicago. We flew home Sunday. My loathing of flying was the same as ever, if not worse. I think it used to be easier for me to fly, and has grown steadily more challenging as my irrational phobia continues to go untreated. Think about every worst-case scenario airplane disaster ever, and you pretty much have the contents of my brain before and during every flight until the moment the landing gear touches the runway safely and the brakes are hit. At which point a massive weight is lifted from my body. It’s really frustrating and annoying. Thank dog I have Brian there to calm me. I always make him talk to me. I must seem like such a total lunatic… Next time I fly (hopefully in the very distant future) I will get drugs. So in other words, after I have a baby, right?

SO. Our vacation, apart from pre-flying neurosis, was so awesome. Chicago is a hell of a town. I loved the hot weather. I loved walking around at night with no need for a jacket or a sweater — something not really possible in SF for about 99% of the year. I loved the incredible range of restaurants, bookstores, parks, public art, etc, everywhere I turned. It’s a fascinating place to me. Sure, I may be in that first blush of love, but I also know people who have lived there for many years and still love it dearly, icy weather and all.

We gawked like idiots at all the lovely brick buildings with their reasonable rents. Rents have actually been kept low there lately because so many young residents are just buying these incredibly affordable condos instead. Here’s an example of a cute house for rent, there were many, many more like it.

I was also impressed by the public transit in Chicago. But people always bitch about public transportation no matter where they live. It’s always something. But this is telling: We walked up to a bus stop on Damen in Chicago and it had a clearly marked sign showing the name of the line, the stops on the route, how frequently it arrived and on what days, etc. Kind of like what other cities, like Seattle, have. Here in San Francisco, “The Best Place on Earth,” at many if not MOST bus stops, you are lucky to get the following: some faded cracked paint on the road saying “Bus Stop,” and then the nearest telephone pole painted with a yellow stripe and the line number on it. That’s IT. A telephone pole with a “48” painted on it is all you get. The CTA pretty much made MUNI look like a pitiful joke, but then that was also accomplished by the London Underground, the New York subway, and the Tokyo subway.

And now a couple more pics before I sign off: this is me and Dave Zibell walking alongside very cool public art piece called “The Bean” in Millenium Park:

And here is a view from the observatory on the 94th floor of the Hancock Tower: