Good morning, Monday.

Last night, I was feeling a little stir crazy in my air conditioned apartment, since I’d spent hours perched on my new loveseat, finishing Cider House Rules, which I had never read (or seen, in movie form, so it’s on the Netflix queue), but which I really liked, even though I suspect John Irving himself to be a giant snob.

But we don’t have to be friends for me to like his books, right?

Anyway, after a dinner of grilled chicken, couscous, and broccoli on the deck, I asked JW to take me to the beach.

Even though it was after seven on a Sunday.

And we’d have to drive through the remnants of the Gay Pride parade, which meant lots of buzzed, happy, noisy people.

We took a ride up to the Roger’s Park beach, which I love because it’s both less crowded and because it’s my old Loyola stomping grounds.

We drove by campus, which is what looks to be a giant construction scene at the moment, and I once again lamented to JW how much I wish we’d had newfangled conveniences like a CVS and a Five Guys restaurant when I had gone to school.

We’d just had an abandoned parking lot sprinkled with broken glass and a hippie living in the basement.

That’s another story for another day.

Then we found a parking spot and strolled down the beach for awhile.

Lovely lake.

That's a serious skyline.

A few Loyola buildings.

Squinting into the sunset.

We walked on the wet sand for awhile, and then took off, finishing off the night at Dairy Queen, eating blizzards and wondering what happened to the weekend.

This morning, I’ve been up since sunrise, taking a long bike ride into the wind, which once again, ended in relative success.

I say relative because I’m still not really sure how to shift my gears successfully.

And my toe cage keeps dragging on the ground.

But big picture, things are going okay.

Enjoy the sunshine, chickadees, and I’ll catch you later!