Blowing My Skirt Up

I’ve always been obsessed with Chicago. Growing up in what’s best been described as a “sleepy little town” in mid-Michigan, I was always the kid wanting to take a trip to the city, where I’d inevitably urge my mom to go for walks in the downtown and northern neighborhoods so I could go all peeping tom on unsuspecting Chicago residents and see into their living rooms and kitchens. It wasn’t out of perversion – we think – it was out of a insatiable desire to be living the life those people already had.

Over the course of my life, my love affair with Chicago has carried on, mostly from afar. I have friends that live in the city and I’ve spent plenty of time there as a visitor. I love how I can almost feel the streets pulsing under my feet with energy and excitement. I love how even on the rainist, snowiest day, I can still find positives that far outweigh the negatives. I love that it has its own brand of crazy served up in the form of street performers, hot dog slingers and most of the partygoers in the Viagra Triangle.


Hell, I even get Chicago Magazine. I read about the newest restaurants, search the real estate listings and read the latest and greatest on the city that stole my heart so many years ago. If you haven’t been yourself, you won’t understand my lunacy for this place. I urge you to go. Soon. Pop up to Lincoln Park and enjoy some sangria and tapas at Café Ba Ba Reeba. Roll on Downtown for a wine flight at Bin 36. Get some stellar sushi at Butterfly or Thalia Spice. And if you know what's good for you, get thee to Frontera Grill! (side note: I've had a mad crush on Chef Rick Bayless since way back in the day. The man can cook. He's a Top Chef Master!)

Once you’re full, check out some of the best museums and attractions our part of the world has to offer. And go shopping, for God’s sake. And by that I don’t mean at the Gap — venture out, little ones. Hit the boutiques and shops you can’t find at your local mall. Ask around. I’m sure someone has an opinion they’re willing to share. Or, forget about all of "the stuff to do" and take a run, stroll, strut or limbo along Lakeshore Drive. It's great for people watching or for forgetting anyone but you exists on Earth. It's one of my favorite things to do when I'm there.

For me, I missed my first chance at making a move to Chicago when I was 21. I went and got married to a local boy instead. After 10 years, that didn’t work out so hot, so for the past two years, I’ve been flirting with the idea again. Of course, I have a great job, a great family and great friends here. Of course, the prospect of the unknown is scary. Of course, I’m a giant pussy.

But the 16-year-old me is constantly sitting on my shoulder, likely in a Varnet France t-shirt and some K-Swisses, whispering ever-so-quietly into my ear, “Get it, girl.” Whether I choose to listen to her or not remains to be seen. In the meantime, I try to appease her as much as possible by making the three and a half hour drive to the Windy City every so often. And I still peep in windows from time to time. And I imagine that life. And I smile.

New Music Sunday!

I find myself obsessing over music about 236 hours a day. Or something close to that. I listen to my iPod at work all day (or at least when I need to block out the madness), can hardly ever be found not pumping music so loud through my car speakers that I scare small children and grandmas, and have music playing at home more than I have the TV on. And I love TV.

With this slight OCDish obsession in mind, I'm starting a new Brunette tradition by talking about the music that makes me happiest every Sunday. As in, I'm going to post on Sunday, not talk about "Sunday music". You know what I mean. I hope. I think I just confused myself.

This week's edition is all about my boy, Amos Lee.

I first discovered Amos about five years ago messing around on iTunes one night. I was messing around, not Amos. What is wrong with me today? God. Anyway! About 3.2 seconds into the sample I played of "Better Days" I was hooked for life. Butter. His voice is like butter. Best way I can describe it. His songs are quiet anthems to life's woes and triumphs - those that pain us and those that lift us up. And I love them all.

For me, Amos shines most on "Southern Girl" (I like to pretend this could be about me, because I am, in fact, from the southern part of lower Michigan). Shut up. 

It's just...what's the word?...FREAKING SPECTACULAR. That doesn't even do it justice. But anyway, check it out for yourself:

I love virtually everything Amos does, and his newest album, released Jan. 25, 2011, called "Mission Bell" is no exception. The first track "El Camino" just floors you with how powerful a very quiet song can be. And it goes on from there. From "Violin" - which I could not love more, to the ironically peppy "Cup of Sorrow", this album is a gem. Of course, Amos could strum a lovely melody while repeatedly saying "Suck a fat one, bitches" and I'd be all "That's so BEAUTIFUL!" Luckily, he hasn't taken that path as of yet.

Enjoy a non-"bitches" song from Mission Bell:

For those of you suckers who weren't able to get tickets to one of his shows that sold out almost immediately (what is WRONG with you!?) I highly encourage you to pick up "Mission Bell" asap. While you're at it, grab "Supply and Demand" and his self-titled album as well. You can thank me later.

Get Your Jollies Here

Despite my die-hard fanaticism for all things Spartan and my unending love for Michigan State, I am secretly in love with the city of Ann Arbor. There’s something about the downtown area that just gets me every single time I visit. Some of my most cherished memories over the past few years have been against the backdrop of Main Street — long walks that facilitate long talks, lingering meals in an open-air back patio and concerts at The Ark that rank as the finest I’ve ever seen.

One of the real gems, in my view, is The Jolly Pumpkin, located at 311 S. Main Street in downtown A2. A brewpub that boasts a phenomenal menu of wood-fired pizzas and truffled french fries (yes, you heard me), among other things, the Pumpkin is a great place to just belly up to the bar and try out some of their impressive beer. Mmm, beer.

I only began liking beer a few years ago – I was a late bloomer, what I can I say? Needless to say, I’ve made up for lost time. They’ve got a great list of house-brewed beer to choose from, whether you like it light or dark or somewhere in between. What’s more, their staff is super friendly and engaging. You feel like you’re a regular the first time you walk through the door. That speaks volumes about their customer philosophy and overall vibe. And I like it. Your bartender might mistakenly call you by the wrong name, but frankly, you’re so happy to be in such a fun place, in such a fun city that you just go with it and respond, “Yeah, that’s me. I’m Lynn.”

Get thee to the Jolly Pumpkin. Oh, and they have outposts in Traverse City and Dexter too…so go. Now. Stop reading this and go. Really.

Oh, and tell them Lynn says hi.