Last week I was lucky enough to have the end of my training class coincide with the end of a focus group Ken had attended on Michigan Ave.

Lucky, because this meant I would have a cushy ride home with superior company.

Not that I don't love my company on the el and metra trains normally, but the crowd after 9:30 sometimes gives me a case of the heebee geebies, or at least a case of the omg shutupsies.

Especially the nights after Hawks games.

I'm always SO greatful to have cheer songs sung for me all the way to my stop, by "those guys" you know, those guys, who had 3-6 too many beers, and have the melodies remain in my head until I fall asleep. From the looks on the faces of the other professionals around me, I can tell they are enjoying the ride just as much.

So as I hopped into Ken's truck in front of the Aon building on E Randolph, we took a drive up to E Wacker Drive along the river, zig-zagged all through the northern loop, up the shopping district on Michigan and down Ohio St on our way to the Kennedy, pointing out places we hadn't been to in quite a while, and I remembered just how beautiful this city can be, downtown on a clear night.

We drove past all the glowing high rises and their fancy gyms, local groceries, swanky bars and restaurants, and I thought about how cool it would be to have a duplex and live among these downtown neon lights, with everything you could ever want just a walk away.

I thought about how some people go their whole lives without experiencing such awesome skylines, and much less are lucky enough to work or go to school in the middle of it.

Then I thought about how, as time goes on, these buildings are only going to get taller, brighter, and closer together as the cost of living rurally will increase, and populations will relocate for jobs, until 90% of the US population will live in or on the outskirts of one metropolis or another, and the days of country living will be few and far between as the big seed companies will take over all the farming, and we will all become dependent on the shipment of resources from the places we used to live and grow independently.

And as we got on the highway and the buildings got smaller, and drove to our home in the suburbs, I thought about how I wouldn't ever be able to live without a yard for the dogs to play in, or a garden to walk through, and plant food in the summer.

This time of year I always get the same thoughts of changing pace, moving, or traveling (hey it's hard not to in February). A year ago this month we were a pinch away from moving into a house down the street and around the corner. Silly some might think, but for us it was about getting ahead for the future, going a little bigger to accommodate any family changes in the years to come. But for some reason or another, the universe told us to stay put.

A year since, we have decided to remain in our petite casa, for good (or at least a long time).
Make due with less.
Expand our gardens, and our spirits.
Save for a rainy day.
Making improvements with our hands, instead of getting them off a shelf.


We may not live among the bright lights and high rises, or the quiet country side.
But we still have fireflies.

And they keep us happy.




Maybe one day, when we've honed our self sufficiency skills,
we'll go live among the mountains.