Sloan and I half ran, half skated to the Field Museum Monday morning so she could snag a few bonus points for a tour of the "Plants of the World" exhibit. (Did you know that apples, raspberries, and other fruits are actually roses? Also, my new favorite kind of plant - monkey pots.) I was hoping it was a tilt-a-whirl kind of thing where you speed through the evolution of husked palms in a whirling teacup or on a giant spinning gyroscope, but no. It was the "walk around quietly and look at stuff" kind of thing. Sloan got her thirty bonus points for her science class, though, and she's going to finish up at Loyola in about two days. Two days! She's practically reverberating with excitement right now. (I am, too...we have a huge and awesome creative project looming on the horizon. It's going to blow your mind.)
Night before last we hung out at the CD release party for Josie Aiello (Sloan worked on Josie's video for her song "Venom," which is widely rumored to be included on an upcoming superhero movie soundtrack.) The party was at Martyrs on Lincoln, and we had a good time pondering the"lookalikeness" of certain musical martyrs in a huge mural by the bar. There was a sort of reptilian looking John Lennon, a Janis Joplin with a saintly glow around her head, and a hazy, somewhat Fat Albertesque Jimi Hendrix. The opening band was really good, and then Josie put on an amazing, energetic show.
Last weekend I met someone who used to hang out with Tucker Max. I decided to talk to him anyway. Turns out he's a pretty okay guy. This guy (a friend of a friend) was sure I was on the other side of the nerd fence from him (the tipoff being my lack of history with comic books) until I dropped a rocket on him. He mentioned science fiction. I mentioned Asimov. He sneered. I threw out Card, Bova, Silverberg. His eyebrows twitched. Then I said two magic words: Douglas Adams. He softened. "Douglas Adams is my personal Pope," he declared. Snuh. I challenged him. "You don't know Douglas Adams unless you know his daughter's full name. What is it?" Blank stare. Stammering. "Polly Rocket Adams!" I made the "L" sign on my forehead. I was victorious. I was Supreme Nerd, if only for a moment.