Shortest Day of the Year but a Long Post

... that's right folks, today is the shortest day of the year in the US. After today, things only get better until June 21st, where we celebrate the longest day.

This past weekend was.. interesting. Now before I write this, let me disclaim that I am very happy with my in-laws and love them, they've helped us out alot. But sometimes, my mother-in-law gets a little... crazy.

Saturday night we were supposed to go downtown and eat at Wildfire, where my brother-in-law, who lives in the city, made reservations. My wife and arrive downtown and meet at the hotel, where the MIL (mother-in-law) decides she doesn't want to goto Wildfire, that she just wants Chicago style pizza. On a Saturday night. In downtown Chicago. On the busiest shopping night of the year. With no reservations.

First stop was Due's. 90 minute wait at the minimum. Next stop was Uno's. Same. Note that we are walking to all these places in, I'd say about 1 degree F. weather, with a nice breeze that probably knocked it down to around -15 F. Finally we end up at Giordano's. They claim a one hour wait, so we put our name down and weaved our way to the tiny bar. After about an hour, we check on our status, and they claim about another 20 minutes. The MIL, who was tired of waiting, decides that she's not eating dinner, that she's going shopping, and she promptly leaves the restaurant. So after about 30 minutes of walking, and an hour of waiting, because she's the one who wanted pizza, she leaves. We could have eaten at Wildfire all along.

About 30 minutes later, we finally get our seat and eat what I'd consider mediocre Chicago style pizza at best.

After that debacle, I was ready for some beers. Luckily Steve, who also lives downtown, was already at Matilda's, so we promptly cabbed it to the bar and enjoyed a few drinks. It was pretty packed and loud, so after a while we decided we wanted something a little more laid back, and boy did we find it. Steve knew of this little place called Joe's on Broadway, and it was the perfect place. The smallest Chicago bar I've ever been in, with just a few locals there when we arrived. We drank there for at least an hour, and the lone bartender said our tab was only $35, well below the amount we actually drank. A nice ending to what started out to be a quite stressful Saturday night.

Sunday morning we headed over to Angelina's for brunch, a nice little place, ironically almost right next to the Joe's place we went the night before. My wife once again yelled at me for dousing my eggs and potatoes in Tobasco. What's up with that?

And of course, on Sunday we watched the Bears trounce the Falcons. Is it time yet to dust off my 1985 VHS copy of Super Bowl Shuffle?