the best thing about working is not working

After four consecutive days with some of the people I love most in this world, I am reminded of one of the great benefits of having a job: Time off is nothing short of heavenly. It is difficult not to fully appreciate being together when most of the time you are apart. It is difficult not to soak up every moment in the beautiful natural world when most of the time you're inside sitting at a desk. It is also difficult to go back to a working life. But, alas, a day of not working will come again. I can hardly wait.

right outside our backdoor

Every year or so my college roommate Lauren and her husband come to visit. They run along the Fox River. They ride our bikes. They walk to town. And Lauren never fails to shake her head and say, "Girl, you live in a little paradise here."

I wish I lived like this was true. But too often the dishes pile up, I'm stressing about a work deadline, or it's deep into February and my home turf feels anything but magical. I think how nice it would be to live in the mountains or on the beach or somewhere in Europe. But that's just me trying to escape the ugly parts of me. Laziness. Boredom. Discontent. Not the best reasons to move.

Over the last few months, thanks to my husband's newfound passion for fitness, we have been riding bikes a lot. Nearly every day either me or my husband straps our four year old into the bike trailer and takes off along the Fox River. This breathtaking trail is, quite literally, right outside our backdoor. We ride by the Japanese gardens and the old windmill. We spot ducks and heron and cranes. We stop at parks with an exquisite view of the river. All this for the price of, well, nothing.


We've also been visiting the ballpark. Less than three miles away from our backdoor a Class A minor league baseball team entertains fans for the cost of a movie ticket. Our favorite Cougars game was one we attended with our neighbors Jae and Denton and my boys' beloved little friend Kyle. We ate hot dogs, drank beer and cheered like crazy as our team almost pulled it out in the ninth inning. And we watched our kids watch the fireworks. This is another reason why we live in paradise. So many people we love live here, too.


Speaking of people we love, another neighbor has been leaving big bags of apples right outside our backdoor all season. She is getting older and can't keep up with them anymore. As a result, I've processed more than 20 quarts of free, organic applesauce. I have enough of my mennonite grandma in me to know this: a generous neighbor with an apple tree is reason enough to call my home town paradise.

No matter where you live, be it a city, a suburb or a small town in the middle of nowhere, there is a marvelous world right outside your backdoor. Rivers and trees. Parks and baseball fields. People to love. So, rather than sit around longing to escape somewhere better, go out and look around. I'm betting you find a little paradise just waiting to be discovered.

sunny, 70s, no humidity

From park to quirky antique farm to our favorite local farm, we soaked up every bit of this glorious afternoon. This perfect, southern California weather only comes a couple times a year but, like a sweet baby dulls the memory of childbirth, somehow makes living in Chicago dreamy. While poor Liam was stuck in school, Elliott and I seized the day and drove west for some adventures.


We talked to horses.


And a dog.


And a donkey. (Or rather got back at the donkey for the last visit when he nipped a shoe.)

We had two picnics, including one for Liam's school that basically meant hanging out in the park with all our favorite neighbors. After which, we rode our bikes home.


And made a detour for ice cream.

Now, the windows are all wide open. My Corona bottle is empty. No one complained about going to bed. All in all a perfect day.

in DC

This is the Bordoni family in front of their new house. Thirty seven bathrooms was just a few too many for our needs, so we decided to pass on it. Seriously, though, we wondered if we might be headed behind bars - oh, and not in this nice house - after this photo was snapped when Liam casually tossed his stuffed animal onto The White House lawn. If you want to see law enforcement and the secret service jump into action quicker than your son can even get a word out to tell you what he did, toss a child's toy through the fence. I thought for sure we were all going to be cuffed and read our rights. While a park patrolman stood with us on the public side of the black picket fence, men in black popped out around the perimeter, hiding behind trees. One, fully vested and armed with some crazy kind of machine gun, finally made his way along the gate, secured the offending animal and passed it back to the cop, who then gave it to my son. I thought Liam and his parents might get a good talking to, but the man was just doing his job. I'm sure our mugs have been archived.


Liam's high point of the trip, aside from almost getting arrested, was having a coke. We drove 24 hours for that pleasure. My high point was seeing and staying with my grown up, married little sister for two beautiful days. Hanging out with my dad, also in town, was an added bonus.

The car ride was surprisingly easy. Liam drew, wrote in his journal and spent hours doing a math workbook. When will this bizarre happiness with "homework" turn to dread? I don't want to know. He also sported a hoodie with earbuds while watching a movie on an iPod and said, "Yo, mom, how 'bout a snack?" making me wonder where we picked him up and who this mother was. Elliott played with cars, shrieked for no good reason and sang with the Wiggles. Blessedly, they both slept, even after we poisoned them with McDonalds. Thanks to my dear sister for making us sandwiches for the ride home. Thanks to her, too, for carrying Liam around on her shoulders, giving up her bedroom (thanks, Tim, too), planning out our fabulous days of sightseeing and being the kind of aunt a six-year-old boy can appreciate. I hope they can stand more embarrassment, more noise, more whining and more silly faces. Because, like it or not, we'll be back.