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I have never been much of a cook. I have a few specialties that I learned how to make over the years, like meatloaf and blueberry muffins and chocolate chip cookies.  I have perfected bacon-wrapped dates stuffed with goat cheese as my go-to appetizer for any social function that requires me to bring something and […]

The idea of exploring Chicago’s rock history from the 1980s and 1990s by taking a Chicago rock tour intrigued me. Just as I knew little of Chicago’s role in the evolution of jazz, I probably knew even less about the city’s place in rock history. And I soon learned that I knew even less about

Nat King Cole. Louis Armstrong. Benny Goodman. All are legendary names in jazz, but did you know all also had strong ties to Chicago? I was clueless about Chicago’s jazz history until I spent an afternoon on an aptly named Raised in Chicago Jazz Tour as part of my blogger tour with Eventbrite. According to

I have always considered myself a bit of a nerd. Not by choice, but by others’ definitions. I was one of those kids who was constantly picked on in elementary school and junior high, with my uber-thick glasses, frizzy hair, chubby thighs and horrible acne. The label subconsciously stuck with me throughout adulthood – deep-down

I have a tendency to jump to conclusions; often negative conclusions and often the wrong conclusions. I didn’t think much before signing up for the “Love Bites” pre-Valentine’s Day brunch hosted by the Smart Dating Academy at Nellcote on West Randolph. With a promise of quality mingling time and viewing of a Valentine’s themed movie,

I exited the Brown Line at the Merchandise Mart, walked through the turnstiles into the massive building and suddenly remembered how confused it always makes me feel – after all, with 4 million square feet, it was once the largest building in the world. This Tuesday evening, I was on a mission to find the

Remember how I wrote a couple weeks ago about launching my new life in Chicago? How I wanted to expand my social circle? How I wanted to play tourist in my own backyard? And how I wanted to force myself to fly solo when I never had the guts to do so before? Well, shortly

I made it to Chicago in record time. Just six and a half hours, door to door, from my parents’ house in Shoreview, Minnesota to my new, albeit temporary, apartment in Chicago’s Wrigleyville neighborhood. It is a drive that took me nearly eight hours going the other direction back in August 2011, just days before