It appears that my first terrible experience of chicago festivals was the exception, not the rule. The Taste of Randolph Street was fun. The food was good (I had a cheeseburger... surprise, surprise), the music was good, the vendors were cool (Bare Minerals!) and some drunk lady went on and on about my pretty lips. So, um, thanks? cool? Anyway... PHOTOS!
^^^extra long side bar: this greenery reminded me so much of the rows of bushes my granny and pawpaw had around their house that i lived in with them until they divorced and sold it when i was about 10ish. Except! Those stupid bushes had leaves with points on the ends. Almost as sharp as thorns and they hurt like crazy. i don't know how many times i would rub against them and they'd cut me. That is actually a common plant in the south i suppose because those same stupid bushes ran along the side of our church, too. What were you trying to keep away from your brick, granny and pawpaw? Animals? or just us tiny tots who liked to play in anything green? the point of this story is to say that since i learned not to touch the plants, i stared at them instead. I would sometimes pick the leaves (carefully) and study the different shades of green. It made me love greenery. and now, here for your pleasure, is greenery for you to stare at. ta-da!^^^
