The shortest month. The longest month.
February was short, 28 days, but it felt, in many ways, much longer.
February is always a weird month, a transition from gung-ho January into the reality of a new year.
Over the last month, I feel like I got a little more lax with my “diet,” it got a little harder to get up before sunrise to get myself to the gym. I mean, when you wake up, daily, to this, it’s hard to want to get out of bed and leave your apartment.
And, with the freezing Chicago weather, it’s also been really hard to not want to spend the entire day wrapped up in a thick blanket sipping hot chocolate.
Still, I pushed through, and made it to the gym an equivalent of three times per week (some weeks more, others less). I even hired a super cute personal trainer…
What else did I do in February?
I went to a Super Bowl party. Don’t ask me who won. Or who played. Or what sport that was.
The food was good though.
I went to Chicago Pizza and Oven Grinder, which you might from all the viral videos of its unique, gooey, melty, pizza pot pies. But I know it as the place my family used to go to when I was much younger and we’d visit my sister in the big city.
After pizza we went to listen to Irish music at Galway Arms down the block. It reminded me of my favorite story from Ireland, when I sat at a bar at a pub, ordered a bowl of soup, and the man next to me ordered a spoon…
I celebrated Valentine’s Day with cocktails and an opera. And all the strawberry-flavored pudding shots.
And I sang ABBA songs with Choir! Choir! Choir! the next day.
And I drank margaritas for national margarita day. As you should.
I went to a Oscar’s party and made my best guesses for who would win, despite the fact that the only movie I’d seen that was nominated for anything was A Star Is Born. I still managed to guess 10 out of 24 categories. And nibble on some Oscar-themed food like an RBG BLT, Isle of the Hot Dogs, Mary Queen of Scotch Eggs, and A Star is Corn.
I met up with a friend to watch some bluegrass music at The Grafton.
I went to karaoke at Brando’s.
And couldn’t think of a song to sing.
And I went to a dinner club at The Gundis Kurdish Kitchen. Where I ate an eggplant stew and bites of everyone’s meals.