You may be wondering, "When will these vacation posts end?" I can only answer, "No time soon."
Okay, Oak Park. Here we go.
Arrived in Chicago on Thanksgiving Eve, was greeted by the saddest site at the airport: the TSA ruined somebody's plan to make sandwiches on their plane.
We went straight from the airport to Las Fuentes for a traditional chaotic meal.
I had the pollo al chipotle, a personal favorite which I order every few visits as the mood strikes me.
Woke up the next morning and it was Thanksgiving.
Served myself a nearly ideal dinner (need I point out my bread plate?)
Ellie made herself comfortable.
That night we saw Tangled. I liked it.
Friday morning we went over to the ice skating rink.
Dads don't skate.
Certain uncles do.
I don't know about these walkers, I mean, honestly . . . who on earth would let their kid use one of these dumb . . .
We'll see about that.
A favorite photo of the trip.
Clear the ice!
Easy for you to say, wimp.
Then we hit the road and headed to Wicker Park
For a Black Friday brunch at the Bongo Room.
We had a bit of a wait, it's not like a party of 10 can just waltz into a place like this.
I instructed family members on faces to make to help pass the time. As a Christmas present to Emily, I am not posting the picture of her trying to cross her eyes.
And we're in. The Bongo Room brunch menu merits a lot of thought.
"Oh Owen, you and your jokes."
The Edwards family turn to their father for guidance.
Because, seriously, consider these ridiculous menus . . .
Now behold these items in real life! Blake had the Chocolate Tower French Toast.
Several people ordered the BLT Benedict.
Cory had the Chorizo Omelet which apparently took seven eggs to make.
In the foreground you can see the Brown Sugar Brioche French Toast, behind that Banana Oreo Pancakes, and behind that another order of the Chocolate Tower French Toast.
Me, I had the Smoked Duck Breast Benedict. Wonderful.
And here I am squinting at myself in the Bongo Room bathroom. Please, take a moment to look at my shirt. It's a Pendleton I inherited from Grandpa while I was in San Marino. I'm amazed that there's still clothes of Grandpa's to discover out there.
A day or two later, a trip to Culver's with Owen and Cory. It had been a bit since I embraced the full on Culver's experience. What a wonderful chainburger.
Sunday night we had to send Owen back to school. To learn.
Monday afternoon, right before a dentist appointment, a quick run to Johnny's.
After 17 years of patronage (holy smokes, is that possible?) I learned of a new way to order my beef and sausage combo, with "hot oil." Meaning they pour the oil the hot peppers marinate in all over the sandwich. Yeah, that spices it up pretty well.
Ellie was expecting a corndog. Blake can eat his own Italian Beef. Wow. I'm sure I was weening myself off Happy Meals at his age.
And then Monday night, my final meal: chicken curry casserole, a lifelong favorite.
And Tuesday morning, at the airport, a mushroom and swiss breakfast sandwich from Potbelly.
And then, after two hours of turbulence filled flight I was back on my street in New York forty five minutes after landing . . . certainly a new record thanks to incredible timing of buses and trains.
I appreciate your patience.