"Cultured" Has a New Meaning

A couple months ago, I got my second annual 'we're coming to Chicago!' call from long time and dear uni (that's what Australians call university, "uni," and I think it's a good idea) friend Cat. We made plans to get together and she said that they wanted to see Wicked, as a friend's daughter is one of the stars. I suppose this story would be a tad more interesting if I knew the friend's name or at least which character she plays, but I don't and that's not the point.

The point is, we planned to go today. I left the tickets up to Cat because I haven't exactly been a hugely cultured theatre-goer in the years I've been here (as if I was before...?!). We arranged for a babysitter, which for some reason is a HUGE deal for me. But then last night, Cat calls and says that because her father-in-law nearly died over the weekend, she wasn't able to get the tickets after all.

Whoa! Of course I didn't mind, I mean, it would have been great to go to Wicked but we live here, so theoretically we can go anytime. The thing that's funny is what we did instead; I was darn well going to go out since my babysitter was all arranged. Half of our evening was somewhat refined: we went for dessert at The Stained Glass. Very nice. I've never had dinner there and I'm not such a wine drinker, but their desserts are great. I like to try more than one thing, so if you check out the menu, you'll understand why I was so pleased.

Any bit of "culture" that was with for dessert was lost after that. We went to the movies and watched Blades of Glory.