Do They Have Brunch in College?

I made reservations for Sola for this Sunday, and because I'll be with my parents, I bypassed the brunch option; I want them to experience Sola's great dinner menu (try the tuna!). But it got me thinking about when the joy of brunch entered my life a few years back.

I know that's when the brunch crazy had settled in; prior to that I thought of brunch as some stuffy meal served awkwardly between breakfast and lunch in some hotel that charges a ridiculous amount of money for high-style Denny's breakfast buffet ("Do you have Moons Over My Hammy?" I would have inevitably asked if I had attended).

But you now know brunch as the best.thing.ever: a last fling before the weekend ends, late enough that no crawling out of bed takes place and the meal holds you over for most of the day. It's a perfect time to digest the two days prior or wake up slowly. (Eggs benedict, anyone?)

So my question: do they have this in college now? Or is it an old-person's deal? How amazing would college have been with brunch? (College Park, Md., first would have needed to get a decent restaurant back when I went, but I digress).

I'll investigate and let you know.

An Odd First Day of School

I don't write a lot about writing, but that's a big part of who I am. I've had experience writing everything from personal narrative to hard core news. I even tackled a children's book (still in the editing phase, but a draft is there).

At work -- I'm a managing editor for home building trade publications -- I write short articles; design features; a variety of online copy; and short, catchy blurbs that go into our TOC (table of contents) or on the cover. For the most part, it's been journalistic, nonfictional type stuff.

But lately, my interests is in information and -- gasp! -- promotional copy. Biased copy that is supposed to lure unsuspecting readers into my cause for structural insulated panels! Steer them to my link to free information from our Major Sponsor! Beckon them to register for an economics Webinar that will knock their socks off. 

And what really gets me going these days? Business reports. That's right: those documents that get passed to team leaders across the country who would rather be planning strategy are exciting to me.

In short, I'm crossing over to the dark side.

Don't get me wrong: I'm still able to produce journalistic writing and enjoy it at that. But the direction I'm headed is what I was trained to avoid. I can do it -- I pride myself on being able to write for whatever project's thrown to me -- but I'm not trained in it. I can't spout off marketing lingo. I question the terminology behind what I'm seeing and writing.

So I signed up for an advertising copywriting sequence of courses that includes marketing through Northwestern's School of Continuing Studies, and tonight's the first class. I'm nervous and leery for several reasons:

• I haven't been in school for seven years. A lot has changed. I know that kids these days bring laptops, but I really don't want to lug my 7 pounder to class. But will that decision designate me asan old-school, out-of-touch-with-technology fogey? Thank God I got Internet on my phone two weeks ago, I find myself saying aloud.
  
• I really don't want homework.
  
• I haven't received ANY information about ID cards, books, etc., and my digging around online has turned up zilch, too. I figure I'll show up on the first night, suss out the situation and get what I need tomorrow.
  
• I worry said approach is being lazy. Shouldn't I have physically gone to the bookstore? Called the admissions office? Back in day, I would have been on the phone asking all these questions in July, when I registered.
  
• I'm a different student now than I was in college, when only senior year did I realize I had been putting more effort into things than I needed (not to say it wasn't valuable -- just misdirected energy).
  

By the way, I sat down to write this blog as a means to procrastination: I've got a feature to write. At least I'm procrastinating by practicing my craft, right?

Good friends, good food, good times

Scene from the deck, Union Pier, Mich., Sept. 18

Birthdays Through the Years

I've previously mentioned loving my birthday because it's an opportunity to think about and appreciate my friends. These are people who treat me like gold. And what other way to test friendship than by having them take care of you while you're toasted?

As I celebrated my 29th birthday this year, I reminisced with my friend Cynthia about my 26th birthday party. We were laughing about incidents uppublishable here, but part of her story included her detail about taking the garbage out and trying to find the bin outside. Imagine, it's your friend's bday, you're in a houseful of people -- most who you don't know -- she's happily blitzed, and you're stuck with the garbage. That's a true friend.

But that's the least of it. That year Cynthia was part of a group that insisted on organizing a party that was my idea -- and that was the day after they kidnapped me for a night out on the town. It's one birthday of a series of awesome birthdays my friends have made me feel special. At minimum, every year I have a wall full of cards, phone calls, texts and emails remembering me. A few highlights:

28th: Twenty-something friends meet me at Piece restaurant and brewery in Wicker Park. We eat a lot, we drink a lot, and the night is capped off when my friend Tim, a kickass drummer in an amazing karaoke band, sings Oasis' "Don't Look Back in Anger" to me by substituting my name for "Sally." The entire bar claps and wishes me a birthday. I proceed to do shots with my friends and the band and fall asleep that night drunk and weepy -- tears of happiness.

26th: This is the aforementioned kdinapping and party. The first night, I thought I was going to a random gallery opening with my roommate Suzy and open the door to find two other friends, Laurie and Cynthia. I was blindfolded and brought to a tapast bar for a cocktail -- where I drank sangria with the blindfold on -- then driven to Batteries Not Included where I got to choose a toy. We ended the night at Corosh for pasta.

And that was the first night! The next day, Laurie, Suzy and Cynthia hosted a party I started to organize, complete with Comadena (Laurie's mom's amazing food) rigatoni and a three-tier cake.

23rd: Home from college, I end up with gastroenteritis and am forced to cancel a series of dinners with friends and families for an entire month. (I should mention that I found out I had the bug during a birthday night with Laurie out on the town; she proceeded to escort me the next day via ambulance to the hospital). But my friends insisted I celebrate: Jackie, Jennifer, Diane and Pete -- all good friends to this day from high school -- surprised me at my house, toasted with Gatorade and took me to a local jazz club. How nice is that?

21th: Oh, the memories. Senior Year college. A large but close group of friends from every year at Maryland and prior -- my best friend comes over from Georgetown and is my designated babysitter -- come to my apartment alcohol in tote (my goal was to have a full bar) and even some awesome gifts (blenders and more!) for some predrinking. Those who are old enough head to a local bar, Cornerstone, where I don't take long to hit the wall. A group proceeds to walk me back to my apartment where I spend a good time throwing up (with hair pulled back, thanks to friends); and while I'm indisposed, my awesome guy friends clean the kitchen and apartment. I pee on myself in my bed that night, but my best friend, Sabrina, cleans me up. I'm a mess, but I wake up hearing that the party was awesome and teary-eyed b/c I knew how much my friends took care of me.

20th, 19th, 18th: I'm surprised in some way -- a night at a comedy club, an organized dorm floor get together, my favorite cake (coconut), etc. -- by my roommates and friends.

Other memories:
19th: Sabrina treats me to the Melting Pot
Throughout high school: Locker decorations!
12th: Only two weeks into my new junior high school, a friend decorates my locker. How nice is that?

I know I'm failing to remember surprises, awesome gifts and touching phone calls of wishes. I didn't even mention my family get togethers. It's easy to see why I love my birthday. That's why I love to help people celebrate, too! I'm expecting next year to be a biggie -- after all, it will be the big 3-0. We'll see.

Icy Pop Grape: Misunderstood

It turns out I've been misjudging the authenticity of icy pops' grape flavor for 29 years.

I always equated that sugary-yet-tart pungent smell (and taste) with crap grape flavoring. Whatever the purple Red dye No. 5 equivalent is never did it for me. Same thing with grape jelly. It all seemed fake as a kid, and the smell and taste hasn't really won me over as an adult, even for nostaliga's sake.

But we're in southwest Michigan's Harbor Country -- specifically Union Pier -- and while taking advantage of stunning weather and miles of country roads on bike, we passed a few vineyards.

We might as well have been riding through a grape icy pop manufacturing plant. All these years, icy pops' "natural flavor" was spot on. Who knew?  Did the icy pop founders really work hard to match the smell of real grapes? I can picture them in product development meetings, pushing their R&D teams to match the scent of grapes off the vineyard.

Maybe that's not how it happened. Whatever it is: I apologize.

Shawn McClaine's Off to Vegas!

I just learned that Shawn McClaine -- executive chef of one of my favorite restaurants, Spring -- is branching off from his restaurant group and heading to Vegas to launch a restaurant called Sage in CityCenter. A waiter told me the news while we celebrated my birthday at Custom House last night (really good! 3.5 out of 5 Zs), although it was reported earlier in the month in the press. Good thing I went while he's still there.

I guess I'm OK with this, although the upscale restaurants I've been to in Vegas have never been as good as they're made out to be -- their original counterparts seem better.

Our waiter also noted this is Shawn's last week and that he'll retain Spring (although my boyfriend recalls he said he'd retain Spring AND Green Zebra). Hear my sigh of relief?. It all makes perfect sense: Custom House was his last restaurant to open in Chicago, and that was three years ago. He's clearly a success; I had been wondering why I hadn't heard anything recently.

Good luck to him, good luck to the new executive chefs who have to fill his shoes, and bummer for me, who can't get to Green Zebra before he leaves.

Happy Birthday to Me!

It's three days since my last blog post. I'm better, I'm well-fed and I'm now 29. Happy Birthday to me!

I love my birthday, and I love it even more the older I get. Some people shy away from their birthday and look at it as some doomesday countdown or something else terrible. I look at it as a perfect day to toast my kickass life. I have great friends! I have a great family! I have my health and am blessed with experiences that are the envy of some people out there. Why wouldn't I celebrate being me?

It sounds selfish, and maybe it is. Does my birthday enthusiasm have something to do with my being an only child? Maybe. It has nothing to do with getting gifts or special treatment. Life is too short, and I'm going to raise my glass to every year I'm around for it, gosh darnit.