This week's Zeitgeist: The Bad Sweater Party

Somewhat in honor of a dear friend with the vaguely unfortunate nickname Sweater, and more in honor of the birthday of a dear roommate with the newly bequeathed and much more fortunate nickname Torso, we threw a little bit of a Bad Sweater Party last night. The domestic leg of the evening featured sartorial feats along the lines of a) feline aparrel, b) puffy sleeves and c) railcar turtlenecks. The public leg of the evening -- the one requiring a seven-man taxi ride -- culminated with ridiculous dance floor antics and bleeding (in the best way possible) eardrums after soaking up some poundfulls of bass at Sonotheque. The whole experience was VERY enjoyable.

Also enjoyable: my company Christams party on Thursday evening. The event was held on the 56th floor of The Chase Building and featured glittering views of a cold, cold Chicago. I do believe that the evening was essentially everything, and perhaps more, that a company Christmas party should be. The gin flowed like honey and the pent-up corporate energy was released in flurries, nay blizzards, of conversation and relationship-forging. Good times indeed.

A distant yet potent Zeitgeist runner up: Dictional Stimulation. In addition to consulting the dictionary a bit more than usual as of late, I have also discovered and revisited (to distraction, really) the poetry of Carl Sandburg. My neck hairs quiver a little bit whenever I read Chicago. Ooh!

And. New self-imposed mandate: these days any time I am north of Foster, I will be sporting my new Southewest-inspired poncho. It's fabulous.