Emerald City Expatriate

Also in November:  I went to the mass cattle call audition for Star Wars, Episode 7. Chicago had been buzzing about it for at least two weeks.  TV news stations, and any and all print and web publications geared toward teens and twenty-somethings had run the following open-call notice from the Walt Disney film division: “Seeking:  Young woman to play 17-18 years old.  Must be beautiful, smart and athletic.  Open to all ethnicities, including bi- and multi-racial.” “Young man to play 19-23 years old.  Must be handsome, smart, and athletic.” Having a role in the final Star Wars trilogy was something I’d daydreamed about on an almost daily basis from ages 11 to 14.  That fantasy had been dashed when 1) I realized Hollywood was never going to come and pluck me out of rural Missouri and 2) Lucas announced that “Revenge of the Sith” would be his last.  The rest of the story (and then some) had been told in numerous paperbacks that now crowded the sci-fi shelves at any given

September:  I finally went to the Field Museum.  I saw the new exhibit on bioluminescent creatures (male and female Angler fish?  Look it up if you don’t know what I mean), a reconstructed Egyptian tomb, and I finally met Sue. I’ve seen Sue in books, magazines and movies my whole life.  (For anyone scratching their heads, Sue is the world’s biggest, oldest, most-complete, best-preserved skeleton of a T-Rex.)  I wasn’t disappointed.  However,  I did read that (well, duh) scientists really have no way of knowing if Sue was male or female; Sue was just the name of the paleontologist who found “her” 20+ years ago. Also in September: My birthday, subsequent visiting family, and a 5-minute romance with a waiter from work, came and went.  I knew better than to A) get involved with a co-worker and B) fall for lines like “I want you to meet my mom” and “I’m going to take you to the Bahamas and teach you how to surf,” but apparently those were lessons I needed to re-learn. Somewhere