I took a long lunch with C-Dogg and a couple coworkers to Heaven on Seven. I�ve been to the two other locations in the city, and going to the original one was a complete letdown.

Being vegan, there�s usually a limited number of items that I can eat at many restaurants anyway. All morning I had thoughts of sweet potato polenta running through my head, only to have that squashed when we saw the reduced menu. Apparently the original Heaven on Seven would rather gain patronage off its popular name rather than its food selection.

Foo on them! Foo on them, I say!

(Yes, back with the fist shaking...)

After lunch we cut through Marshall Fields to avoid any howling gales, only to find ourselves in a 30% off sale. C-Dogg picked herself up some rad earmuffs, but they were not to be mine. [sigh] It seems that I have midget ears, and the muff part of the earmuffs came to my chin.

I snuck by the purses and found that the bustier and bra purses were still marked $30, and the purse lady said that she had no clue if they were going to go back on sale. Again with the foos, so I bought myself a happy Valentiney purse that I�m going to use year-round because I�m cool like that. Heart-shaped flowers are cute and can be year-round, right?!

I didn�t even go to the fourth floor to check out coats. I really should.

My apologies to Bill for talking about shopping two days in a row.

I will soon forget about the purses that look like bras if they aren�t on-sale in the immediate future, and I�ll no longer need to shop once I acquire a monster-fur jacket... Or any warm jacket for that matter...

Today was advertised as the coldest day ever, leading me to adorn myself full Siberia gear: Uncool $2 earmuffs from Walgreen�s, a stretch hat that reads �2003 New York,� a tightly woven scarf my mom crocheted for me, tights under my pants, two pairs of gloves, wool socks, a fleece, and three layers of shirts that made me look like I had the rack of a fourth grader.

Gah! Give a girl some credit... I�ve at least got the rack of an eighth grader.

Well, when I stepped out of the apartment this morning, things really didn�t feel any different than usual. I waited for the bus. I walked to my building. I walked to lunch. I walked to Marshall Fields. I walked back to work some more. I walked to the el. And then I walked back home.

Windchill at negative fifteen, my ass.

Kiss it Mother Nature, kiss it! What you dish out, I can take.

So there.

Carrying on with why today felt like a blow-off day, I had my twice-per-month department meeting. Usually I sit there and daydream of a handsome man rubbing on my head to the point that I�m afraid that I�m actually moaning during the meeting, but something caught my ear somewhere around minute 48 into the big-big boss� chatter.

It seems that there has been some additional orders that will push development into Q1 of 2005. Translating that into normal-person speak, there will be work to do after August 31st, my supposed last day with the company. Meaning that if there�s something to do, I�ll stick around. And if I�m sticking around, I�ll continue to get paid.

Since I counted that I only have 30ish more paychecks coming in until then, it�s nice to think that there�s a possibility that I�ll have an additional 20. With those additional 20 paychecks I could do something wild like buy each ChicagoJo reader a 1979 Ford Bronco. Or each Uncle Bob reader a happy meal. Or each Weetabix reader something small but shiny. (I wouldn�t have it any other way for the lovely Bix!)

Whatever that sum of money breaks down to for you guys in your own terms, it�s still good news.

Yay for having a job!

On a similar topic, I got an email from a CEO who tried to hire me as his Marketing Manager back in May, even going so far as to say that he�d personally pick me up from the Metra each morning.

The only bad deal with this gig was that it was practically in Wisconsin. And if I�m going to travel practically to Wisconsin, I might as well go all of the way there to hang out with these knuckleheads.

Ho-hum. Maybe they�ll let me do some freelance for them. I�ve been meaning to ramp-up the freelancing again.

Any of you need something written or designed? I�ll even give you the full sales pitch.

Oh yeah. If you know anyone in the Chicago area who paints the insides of houses and would do a bang-up job for a low-ball price, let me know. I may be able to hook a brutha or a sista up with a quick job in about six weeks.

Oh yeah. Weigh in with your opinion.

Short hair?

Or long hair?

Let the guestbook know.

Someone at work mentioned that she had lived in her new place for two years and had yet to unpack her good china, citing that she hadn�t had reason to bust it out for use. This idea is so foreign to me that I just can�t understand where she�s coming from. Why have such wonderful and pretty dishes and never use them?!

I�d be like, �Yay! I had a good day at work today! Let�s eat off the good china!�

�Dynamite! I have a dishwasher that works! Let�s eat off the good china!�

�Yipee! I had a good night�s rest last night! Let�s eat off the good china!�

�Hooray! I managed to not get hit by a taxi today! Let�s eat off the china!�

�Hot damn! Ming didn�t shit on my bathmat! Let�s eat off the good china!�

I guess I just see a lot more to celebrate in everyday occurrences. Maybe I�m just an optimist. Maybe I�m overly cheery to the point that you want to poke at my eyes or squeeze me until the pressure makes me pop. Or maybe -- just maybe -- I'm onto something and you can take a little of that with you this evening.

G�nite all.�