History, Chicago Style

God bless America.

Vote!

Vote early if you can or do it old school on November 4th is you must, but either way, exercise your right to vote! Far be it from me to alienate any of our precious few readers by telling you how to vote, but the important thing is that you do vote.

I'm certainly not ashamed to let you know that the coveted HHH endorsement has gone to the good Senator from Illinois, Barry Obama, but I'll leave the in-depth political discourse to my brother.

*Note: If you do vote for Obama, I will mark you in my rolodex as a "BFF". I'm just sayin'...that's pretty cool.

Handfelt Summer Recap Part I

This two-part, HHH exclusive series chronicles the goings on here in the Hanfelt abode over the course of the last summer, before this website launched and claimed it's rightful place as the #1 Handfelt Helmed Blog on the Internet. I will take on the duties of penning Part I while Katy will have the task of following this up with a thrilling conclusion that satisfies our readers' high standards. Events are in semi-chronological order.

Golfing

Back in June, when we went back to Iowa, I broke out my dancing shoes and tussled with Dad for 9 holes out at Byrnes Golf Course. This was the first time that I had golfed since the Taft Administration and I was rustier than an 82' El Camino. My skill level is rather horrifying, but I enjoy my bi-yearly outings anyway. Dad plays like a old, white and frustratingly mediocre version of Tiger Woods.

Note to reader: Bernie missed this putt.

Sienna & Griffin's birthday party

In June, our niece (Sienna) and nephew (Griffin) had a joint birthday party in Cedar Rapids to celebrate their 1st and 3rd birthdays, respectively. There was a Prince and Princess theme. My idea for a John F. Kennedy and Marilyn Monroe theme was widely ignored as was my attempt to arrange a Mini Kegger hosted by Mini KISS.

Sienna: Where's Mini Kiss?

Eating

Thanks to my job, we get a ton of restaurant gift certificates. Whether it's a giant plate of nachos or filet mignon, we've earned a reputation for laying waste to both greasy spoons and cloth napkin establishments throughout the greater Chicago area. Some of our favorite places we visited this summer and summers past are: Le Bouchon (French), Las Palmas (Mexican), Smoke Daddy (BBQ), Piece Pizza, Carnivale (Latin), Moody's Pub (Burgers), La Cocina De Frida (Mexican), Yen's (Chinese), La Scarola (Italian), Niu (Sushi), Five Star (Burgers) and A Taste of Heaven (Breakfast).

How are we not morbidly obese? We live in Chicago and don't have a car, so it balances out. Sort of.


Shane and Nick contemplate the meaning of life and wonder if it was really necessary to order a second round of nachos.
Fourth of July - White Sox game in suite

Ah, sleeping with the enemy. Die-hard Cubs fans cavorting in a box suite with South Siders? Say it ain't so. The word 'free' sometimes causes irrational behavior. Oh, and the Sox lost.


Wisconsin Dells and Camping at Devil's Lake

In August, we headed up to Wisconsin with Cory and Gretchen for some camping at Devil's Lake. After a rain soaked first day that included numerous trips across the lake on a car ferry (my sense of direction is non-existent) the weather cooperated in time for us to have a great day re-living our youth at Noah's Ark Water Park in Wisconsin Dells. This also afforded Cory and I the opportunity to take our shirts off and show those Wisconsin ladies just what they were missing. Nothing says 'hot' like Cory and I shirtless, eating deep-fried Twinkies.


Cory grilling some ribeyes. Shirt optional.
Thunderfist Weekend

The first weekend in August, friends from across this great nation of ours gathered at our home for an event dubbed 'Thunderfist 08'. You see, many of the people who came in were writers on that Internet sensation known as Thunder Matt's Saloon. You had a-holes from California, Texas and Iowa all gathered together in the Windy City for some adult beverage-fueled shenanigans. The details are sketchy, and any story would have to be altered considerably to avoid legal action, but suffice it to say, good times were had. We went to a classic bar called Baby Atlas that Friday night and then a Cubs game and Butch Walker concert (for some of us) on Saturday. Sunday was spent recovering, drinking lots of water and coffee for some and more beer for others.


Adam, Ted, Ralph Machio and Cory



Katy and Gretchen at Baby Atlas



The Thunder Matt Crew: Me, Rich, Nick, Ted, Brad and Ken in no particular order. Adam is lurking in the background like a serial killer.

Street Fests

Every weekend in Chicago, there are various street fests. All of them involve booze, bands and street vendors selling arts, crafts and meat on a stick. This year we hit up Midsummer Fest in Andersonville and the Chinatown Street Fair. There may have a been a few more that we went to, but after a while these things start to blend together.

I'll take you downtown to Chinatown Focker.

Bike Rides/Beach

Our new neighborhood is only a 5-minute bike ride to the beach and the lakefront bike path, so we spent many a weekend being beach bums and riding our bikes around town. We rode up to Evanston one weekend, ate Thai food and rode by all of the nice rich-people houses on the lakefront. Katy tends to ride at a very leisurely pace, ringing her bell, while I favor a more more rugged, off-road style of biking that could be classified as 'rebellious'.

Cruising by the beach in Evanston

Hitting The Ground Running

A couple of weekends ago, the Handfelt Hacienda was descended upon by one of our sets of parents (they number in the dozens) in anticipation of the Chicago Marathon. My graying yet noble father, Bernie and my not graying but no less noble stepmom Chris arrived on Friday the 10th, ready to take the Windy City by storm and instill some much needed Midwestern values (and carbs) into our elitist, city slicker lifestyle.

Chris had spent the last few months preparing to run the Chicago Marathon. On Sunday, she'd be joined by 46,000 of her closest friends in running a scant 26.2 miles, through seemingly every neighborhood in Chicago. Since I charter a private helicopter any time I have to travel farther than 2 blocks, the mere thought of traveling 26 miles on foot (and running to boot!) sends chills up my spine and has me reaching for an adult diaper.

But first things first. It was time to do what the Handfelts do best. Eat. On Friday, after giving Bernie and Chris the nickel and dime tour of the apartment, we got gussied up and headed down to the fancy pants restaurant Table 52. Helmed by Oprah's old personal chef, Art Smith, it's a pretty tough table to get, but I'm a powerful and attractive man who gets what he wants. Ok, that's a lie. I actually booked our reservation over 2 months in advance.

Judging by the food, Art Smith must have cooked for Oprah back in the 'fat Oprah' era. Southern comfort food with a fancy twist. Goat cheese biscuits (think Cheddar Bay Biscuits at Red Lobster, but classier) and deviled eggs were brought to the table to start. In my head, I raised the roof. I ordered the catfish, served with cheese grits and hush puppies. Very good; not too 'fishy' like catfish sometimes is. Bernie and Katy got the Parmesan crusted chicken and Chris got the jambalaya. All of it was very good. Oprah was no where to be seen. Date night with Stedman perhaps.

We got home pretty late and watched the late night talk shows for a while. I think that's the first time that Bernie has been up late enough to watch The Tonight Show since Jack Paar was the host.

Saturday was a day to lay low. But not before heading down to McCormick Place to pick up Chris' packet and check out Grant Park to get a lay of the land for Sunday. McCormick Place, I curse the day you were born. It only took us about 15 minutes to get down there, but a solid hour to find parking. This was the second time that McCormick Place has wrecked our lives, the first time being when my less handsome brother Cory tried to navigate Dad and me through there after a Bears game. McCormick Place has been taken off my Christmas Card list and added to Bernie's dreaded 'shit list' instead. Once we parked, we picked up Chris' stuff and walked around sampling some of the various vendors (You think you know Powerbars? You don't even know man!) and soaking it all in.

After that we came back to the hood and gave B&C the tour of our 'Main Street', which is a four block area of Clark Street lined with shops and restaurants. We stopped at our favorite furniture place, Urban Nest and all of us ended up buying lamps. Because what is a man without a good woman and a stylish lamp?

Next up was some professional carb loading. Chris made her famous spaghetti and meatballs, served with salad and french bread. We all loaded up on carbs, the difference being that Chris actually worked them off. I store them for winter like a fat, happy bear.

A stuffed gut makes a happy boy. We all went to bed early in preparation of the big day ahead. We woke up at the butt-crack of dawn and headed downtown on Lake Shore Drive, the sun just beginning to creep over Lake Michigan. We dropped Chris off on Michigan Avenue and watched her disappear into a crowd of people, all headed to the starting line. Parking the car near the Four Seasons, we killed some time before heading down to stake out our first spot to catch Chris, right downtown near Grand and Rush.

Within 3 minutes of getting to our spot, we saw Chris run by (and she saw us; we were lucky to see each other at all 5 spots we stopped). This was still only Mile 3, so all of the runners were still bunched pretty close together and the energy level was very high.

Walking a few blocks over (which was a few miles away for the runners), we set up camp again, and within about 10 minutes saw Chris run by again, going strong . She was preceded by a leprechaun and a gaggle of fools dressed like Batman, The Joker and Wonderwoman. Still no sign of Oprah.

By this time, we had mapped out our viewing route and we knew that we had some time before we'd see Chris again, around Mile 13. Watching other people push their bodies to the limit had really built up our appetites, so we headed via train down to Greektown, near Katy's work and ate breakfast at Meli Cafe. Very crowded, very Greek, very good. After that, we found a good spot in the shade and waited for Chris.

It was here that swear I saw former Columbus High School tight end and fellow Cubs enthusiast Eric Peters run by, but that can't be confirmed. It was also here that we first started to notice the toll that the race was taking on people. One younger woman came off the street to meet her husband and was in tears, unable to run anymore. It was getting hot out and things had moved from the 'nice jog' phase to the 'oh crap' phase. My dad looked concerned. After a few minutes though, we saw Chris come over the hill and head our way. Video documentation, courtesy of technology and magic can be found below.


Seeing Chris at Mile 13

We then walked over a couple of blocks and set up shop at Mile 17, a non-descript stretch of land that may have been swampland at one point. This is pure speculation on my point with no real grain of truth. I noticed that the runners were starting to hit a wall at this points, since it was past the half way mark, yet still not really close to the end. As you can see below, Dad and Katy also began to hit a wall. Watching a race is hard work.

Hey Katy, you know where I can find a good pair of slippers?

Chris at Mile 17. I once ran 17 miles in a calender year.

Hopping on the bus and then the Red Line train, we made our way down to Chinatown for the next stop, right at Mile 21. Chinatown was a trip. Loud music, dragon parade-thingys (technical term) and an unusual number of Chinese restaurants made for a viewing treat. Chris ran by us again, and I don't think she was expecting to see us there. All things considered, after 20+ miles, she looked to be in great shape.

Off to the home-stretch back near Grant Park. The final mile, much to the chagrin of all the runners is up a hill (those bastards!), and we set up shop halfway up said hill, about one third of a mile away from the finish line. Talk about inspiring. This was the final stretch. This is where the runners, their legs like sandbags filled with lead, strap it on for the final push.

We saw one woman go to the crowd and carry her kid, who had cancer to the finish. Damn. The crowd cheering everyone on and it was truly something amazing and special to see. I'm searching for words that sound poetic and don't read like the script to a Gatorade commerical, but I'm at a loss. It would be understating things to say that it was merely impressive. Soon enough, Chris came around the bend and headed to the finish line. She's on the far right in the video below. After 5 hours and 37 minutes, victory was at hand.

We met up with Chris at the Runner Reunite, where hugs were exchanged and then headed to the Four Seasons Hotel. To the victor go the spoils. We celebrated with champagne (put the good stuff on ice, Balatore be damned!) and chocolate covered strawberries. After what I imagine was the most refreshing shower of Chris' life, we went down to the Four Seasons Cafe for a celebratory dinner. Bernie had a expensive wagyzu beef hamburger (the guy in those Miller Hi Life commercials would not approve) which he proclaimed to be the 'best ever', a heady statement coming from a lifelong Iowan. Our fearless runner had the same, while Katy got the steak frites salad and me, my appetite ruined by a nail-biting Arizona Cardinals victory, settled on the decidedly girly but good Cobb Salad.

All in all, it was a great weekend a once in a lifetime experience. We are so proud of Chris for doing something so courageous. Watching those runners all push themselves to the limit was a trip and truly inspiring. For the next couple of days, I was even motivated to think about starting a regular exercise regimen. Will I actually follow though? This is debatable and I'm leaning towards 'no', but thats neither here nor there. The fact is that Chris did it and we're related to her. So that makes us all winners by association. Well played Chris.

Happy Anniversary!

As you can tell from our absence from the internet, the fall of the Cubs left us down in the dumps for a few weeks...but we are back, baby! Last week and this week, Ben has been busy working insane hours with the annual Chicago Film Festival. In between all his hobnobbing, he took me out Saturday night to celebrate our fourth wedding anniversary. We went to a fabulous little Italian restaurant called Angelina's (not of the Jolie variety) and stuffed ourselves with pasta, Peroni, and champagne. We are still recovering, thanks to a friendly and generous bartender and insanely good food. Ben also gave me a some great flowers, so it was an awesome day.





Now it's Sunday night, Ben is working, and I, after wandering the city this afternoon, am watching the Project Runway finale. Bor-ing! Like I've said, we're not all that exciting...but we're thinking of you all.

Dang

The Cubs were eliminated from the playoffs in unceremonious fashion on Saturday night. The best team in baseball gets swept in the opening round of the playoffs. My heart aches. Katy took it much worse than I thought she would, which in a perverse sort of way, made me proud.

Click here for my epilogue to the season over at Thunder Matt's Saloon. Out of all of the things I've written for that site, this is amongst my proudest moments. No swears either.

On a lighter note, I grilled chicken tonight. As I'm standing over the grill, I look to my right and as if on cue, our neighbor's chickens come out to their coop and just stare at me. Their eyes scold me.

"How dare you."

I wonder if they knew the chicken that I'm grilling. It's certainly not out of the realm of possibility. A wave of guilt swept over me. A shame spiral.

Alas, that shame only lasted a few minutes. I got a really good do' on that chicken.

Later this week, we'll try to publish our extensive 'Summer Recap' post. Then next weekend, my dad and stepmom Chris come into town for the Chicago Marathon. This is the kind of coverage that continues to make The Handfelt Happy Hour the #1 Handfelt Blog on the internet.

Cubs Lose Game 1, Panic to Follow

Katy and I were lucky enough to score the proverbial 'golden ticket(s)' tonight to Game 1 of the Cubs-Dodgers playoff series at Wrigley. Economic recession be damned, people were scalping those things for a couple hundred bucks apiece outside of the stadium. I saw one person trade their newborn baby, straight up, for some bleacher seats. Luckily, we got ours at cost. A big Handfelt Happy Hour 'thank you' goes out to our Cubs Guardian Angel who helped us get the tickets. May the scads of tickets to mostly crappy movies and unwanted DVDS that I provide in return be of some value to you.

Unfortunately, the Cubs fell in defeat, 7-2. You can read my whole PG-13 recap of the experience, done by my alter ego over at Thunder Matt's Saloon, by clicking here.

Hopefully this loss was just a minor bump in the road on the way to eventual success, comparable to the time I jumped into a public fountain in downtown Indianapolis. A minor bump in the road, but now look where I am! (Crickets) Hmmmm...on second thought, using my own life as a roadmap for success for the Cubs is probably extremely damning.

Pictured, l-r: Katy, Ben, duh.

Like they say in those annoying TBS commercials, "There's only one October!" Thanks. I'll make a mental note of that. Funny, I had always assumed that there were 2 Octobers.