A Grace Full Life

5.22.2015

Netflix Knows Our Family Dynamic




It is so funny how Netflix has a pulse on my life.
Each month we are given a prompt, a gentle nudge by Netflix.
So this month, it was about being in an unconventional family.
To tie in with the new show Grace and Frankie.





This month, the question was "what is it about your modern family that you wouldn't trade for anything in the world?"
Our little family has been very modern, unconventional, quirky, whatever you want to call it.
It has been that way for almost nine years now.
Well, nine years Wednesday, if we are being exact.




Nine years ago, Wednesday, my then six year old daughter and I married my then fiancée in a barn....down by the river.
No, no, no.
But yes, we did get married in a barn.
You can read all about it here.
I say "we" got married because when you marry a woman with a child, you get the whole package, the whole enchilada, the happy meal WITH the toy.
She came with the package, so when we were planning the wedding, I told him that I wanted her to have a part in the vows.



It was incredibly romantic, tears were flowing, it was a day that everyone in that barn will never forget, I am sure.
Because on that day, he married not only a 36 year old woman, but also her six year old daughter....OMG THAT SOUNDED SO WRONG.
What I am trying to say is that we vowed to be a family that day.
For better or worse, richer or poorer.
In sickness or in health.
Not many traditional families get to do that.



Then came Ellie, a year and a half later.
For the first year of Ella's life, Anna's biological dad would call Ella, to Anna's face, her half sister.
Anna would correct him and say, "she is my full sister", to which he would always correct her.
Eventually he stopped doing it and it did bother me that he was undermining her, even though he was officially correct.
But the take away was that in Anna's mind, Ella was and always will be her full sister.
In a society obsessed with titles and tags, it doesn't matter what they will call her.




We have been a blended family for nine years now and while it has not been easy at times and society sometimes roots for us to fail, it has been an amazing ride.
I have loved watching the relationship between my husband and Anna blossom and grow.
It has had its moments, especially in the tween and teen years but it is now growing stronger and it makes me so proud.
I look at my two girls and I can't imagine our life without them.
I am damn proud of this crazy, modern, quirky, unconventional family that we have created, largely on our own.




I don't want a perfect life, I don't want a life where everything is cookie cutter and we all have the same last name.
I like being able to explain our story to people who we have just met.
I love that we have a past, I think it makes us mysterious.
We have this amazing twisty, turny, storyline that not many other people in our lives have.
When we look into each others eyes we can knowingly see where we began and we get that twinkle.
It's like being in on a secret that no one else knows or having a secret handshake.
It is glorious, not at all scandalous.
I mean how many other people can show their little sister the video from the day they married their parents?
Wink wink.












I am a member of the Netflix Stream Team. Meaning, for the next year, once a month I will be writing posts about how my family is using our Netflix. They provided me with a Roku and a voucher for my Netflix account.

5.18.2015

Channeling Mr. Hughes

I know you think I am crazy.
OK maybe not all of you, but the silent majority of you do and it is okay, really.
You can nod your heads as you read this because even a tiny bit of me thinks I am crazy as I go through this phase in my life of needing to recreate my teenage years by sitting at a dead directors grave and writing for hours on end.
But this is the epiphany that came to me on a humid early spring day as I shouted it into my phone with tears on the edge of my voice as the Psychedelic Furs were blasting in the background YES I KNOW HOW PATHETICALLY PATHETIC IT SOUNDS.




 


I refuse to forget what it felt like to be a teenager in the midst of menopause.
I refuse.
And that is what the real issue at hand is.
That is the AHA moment that the therapist at the other end of the couch, if I could afford one, would say to me after all of this nonsense.
Which is totally not nonsense.
When it is







It started mid-winter with this article I wrote for Chicago Parent about John Hughes.
Innocent enough, I love his movies, grew up with them, we have always driven around and seen the homes, movie locations before.
My father-in-law actually worked security for several John Hughes movies in the 80's, so it wasn't anything new to my world.
It was something we talked about quite often, so why not write about something I love?



 

After visiting his grave site though, something stuck with me.
It was weird.
I wrote about the visit and as I wrote, a song came on Pandora.
Don't You Forget About Me by Simple Minds.
I even joked about it IN the article .
It made me smile but did make me stop in my tracks a little because I don't believe in coincidences.
Do I think that John Hughes is reaching me from beyond?
No.
But is it a little weird?
Yes.









My friends came out this past February from Ohio and I was deciding where to take them since they had never been to this area before.
So where do I take them, after Portillo's of course?
John Hughes grave.
Yes, I took them to his grave.
I know.
WHY AM I TAKING THEM TO HIS GRAVE??
In my defense, they did think it was cool and they also are "children of the school of Hughes", teenagers who grew up on Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club, Pretty in Pink and so on.
We also spent the weekend visiting movie locations from two of the above movies as well and it was while we were doing so that the idea for the John Hughes Museum came about.
Why isn't there one?
I don't want this to be a novel, so go here for my suggestion.







Then I got busy.
Well, my hormones got busy.
So I dropped the ball.
But unbelievable things happened in the midst of menopausal hell.
Things like, my husband randomly finding out that John Hughes former home was being opened up to the public for tours!
He heard on the morning news that we could, for a price, pay to take a tour of his mansion!!!
WE WERE SO THERE.
The week after my birthday.
Kismet?
I think so.







Then, my friend and fellow John Hughes aficionado Vikki, shared a cool link on my Facebook wall about unknown Sixteen Candles facts that stated that it was 31 years ago "today" that the movie was released.
WAIT.
HOLLLLD UPPP.
Did that just say 31 years ago.....today?
May 4th, 1984??

MAY 4TH????


The same exact day that I published my post about needing a John Hughes Museum in Chicago?









I got chills up my spine.
I don't care if you don't believe but I did.
I totally did.
I bought those damn charity tickets to the John Hughes mansion faster than you could say SAVE FERRIS.

But first, I had a stop to make.











I wrote for a good 30 minutes this day.
I promised myself I would return in the spring.
And I would have written longer but of course, this is right next to the lake and spring here is just...don't get me started.
So it was cold.
The struggle was real.
My husband took this picture without me even asking which makes me so happy.
Either that or he is starting to "get the crazy" and he wants to document it for proof.









"John Hughes WOULD love my tenacity.
And we WOULD tweet me back JON CRYER.
He WOULD email me back Andrew McCarthy."

I am looking at both of you.
Actually, those are the only people I had the cojones to get in touch with in regards to the museum.
The crazy train didn't venture too far from the crazy station but just enough.
Don't worry, I am sure I will hit enough of the brat pack to get a restraining order by the time I am 50










So after my writing session with Mr. Hughes, my husband and I drove to the church where we were to grab the shuttle to take us to "the" mansion.
A couple of notes:

-The shuttle was full of women.
-Women who had a good 10-15 years on us.
-Some were our age, don't get me wrong but I felt like we were on our way to a bridge club outing.

I did feel a little sorry for my husband, he was sorely out numbered.
But then I laughed at the humor of it all.
Here we were going to John Hughes mansion for cripes sake and it was all older women in capri's and ballet flats.
And all I wanted to do was sing" I WANNA BE AN AIRBORNE RANGER!!!!"
At the top of my lungs.
While running up and down the aisle.






We have arrived.
Shall we plow?








There you get the feel of who was touring with us.
See, I felt like we would be rubbing elbows with fellow Hughes fans, movie fans, etc.
Yes, I figured there would be lots of interior design people there etc. because that is what was being featured but I guess I thought there would be some people there who would be interested in the man behind the home.
The history of the home, the person who owned it.
Instead, it was filled with lots and lots of ladies who lunch.








We were told at this tent that no pictures were allowed inside and no big bags.
I had brought my huge camera and huge purse but they had told me, "oh that is NOTHING, we have seen MUCH bigger, you are fine".
Me being a rule follower, I didn't take a picture, followed strict instructions, took my program book and inhaled each room.
I loved every moment I was in this home.
It was crowded and hard to focus at times but I didn't let it divert me from trying to focus on the man who lived here, all the cool meetings that must have happened here, all the amazing people who must have walked the halls.

I bet James Spader was a real a@#hole to John's kids in this playroom!
I bet John Candy took a dump in that bathroom!

So you know, it was really solemn.

It was pretty tubular, had to use an 80's word to describe it.
Stellar, awesome, tubular.
To. The. Max.
I was told that there were pictures in our program that we were given but I never glanced at the program while inside because I was taking in all the rooms while inside.
It wasn't until I was home that I realized there wasn't one picture inside my program.
I felt a little gypped, not going to lie but I do remember being inside and quite honestly, it wasn't decorated like when he lived there.

The only homage to John Hughes was The Breakfast Club playing in auto repeat in the "rec room".
I entered the room when the closing credits came on.
If I came in when the library dance scene was playing?
I WOULD HAVE DONE THE DANCE.
I SWEAR ON MY CHILDRENS LIVES.





There was one room that really got to me though.
The "man cave".
It was totally "redecorated"  by a designer and I say "redecorated" because I am sure when he lived there it wasn't a "man cave" because they didn't have "man cave's" back then.
CAN WE START CALLING THEM DEN'S AGAIN??
PLEASE???
But there was a picture on the mantel of John Hughes that was original and I saw it immediately as I walked into the room.
It completely caught me off guard and I started to get tears in my eyes as I stared into it.
I couldn't look away, cheesy enough, I was awestruck.
I felt lost in the moment and realized that I was crying.
I told my husband that I need to collect myself or people are going to think there is something wrong with me.
Then as we were walking to another part of this room there was a real picture of Mr. Hughes, a much more recent picture than I had ever seen.
It just meant a lot to see that in the home because I hadn't seen anything of him in the house prior to that.

We did get to walk the gardens of the home and we were allowed to take pictures there.
Which turned out to be one of my favorite parts of the tour.








I did hear his name here and there throughout the day.
In the home.
In the yard.
In the garden.
Whispers.....oh yes, he was the one....oh you know, Pretty in Pink........







Pink.








My feet.
On John Hughes patio.
Wearing my chucks.
What?
I dressed up.
But I did NOT wear ballet flats.

I wanna be an airborne ranger......








The first thing I thought of when I saw this pool was, I wonder if Matthew Broderick swam in this?
In a leopard print thong.

Danke schoen........





More bridge club ladies.

" You know Judd Nelson signed my boob back in 1985 in Poughkeepsie during a press junket for St. Elmo's Fire. And I wasn't wearing any underwear, ladies."
Titter, titter, titter.
I SWEAR TO GOD THAT WAS WHAT THE LADY IN THE WHITE HAIR WAS SAYING.
Allegedly.
Then the lady in the pink jacket piped in, " yeah, well he smacked my ass on the way out".


Oh that was way too much fun.



WHAT??



OH LIVE A LITTLE.






Only Ferris Bueller fans will get this.
DON'T TELL ME THIS WASN'T A SIGN.
John Hughes was chuckling from the beyond at this little juxtaposition.
The irony wasn't lost on me.




I said to my husband as we walked the many halls of this mansion something to the effect of, " I feel like we are passing Blane, Steff and Benny with every turn. "
Funny how one made his money off that movie and yet, here we are?




Not to say that those people are nasty mean like in the movie but this home is a mansion.
I mean come on, Mr. Hughes, you can only be so down to earth.
Kind of like in Pretty in Pink, when Andie drives through the neighborhood offhandedly mentioning that she thinks the people who live in these mansions probably don't appreciate the homes they live in.
I felt the same exact way about the former home of the man who wrote that exact line in the movie.
Looking at every room wondering if he did in fact, think it was half as pretty as I did.






 It was such a great day.
We stood in front of his former home and stared at it for a good five minutes before looking at each other and finally realizing it was time to take the shuttle back to our car.
But first, let us take a selfie.





I was kind of hoping we would see his ghost in the background.
No such luck.
I KNOW I NEED HELP.

Back on the shuttle, we didn't really say much, just absorbed everything.
I listened to the muttered chatter of the bridge ladies on the bus but couldn't get this song out of my head the entire shuttle ride:





Gummy bear?
They've been in my pocket.
They are nice and soft.

We stopped at Smashburger for lunch and as we were sitting outside eating our burgers and sharing a fry, why we shared a fry, I have no idea.
One fry is never enough......
My husband gave me a gift.
He sent me these two pictures:







Two illegal pictures.



From inside John Hughes home.
The above is me scurrying away from the mantel to compose myself.
I was verklempt.
I may have cried into my burger which if you know me, is highly unusual as not to ruin my burger experience.
It was the best gift.
He said it was worth getting caught.
I think Mr. Hughes would agree.

He would also agree that we should start calling "man cave's" den's.
Effective immediately.
And stop playing The Breakfast Club in the rec room.
It's giving him a headache.




This day was unbelievably cool and weirdly emotional.
My dear friend Vikki messaged me that night asking me how the day went and I said to her that I felt like the museum idea was silly, that it wasn't going to happen but that the day was amazing.
That this day was completely worth it and that I felt like I spent the day with John Hughes, if that makes any sense.
I said, "I think I will write one more post then drop it. Let the John Hughes idea die with him.
I told Mike I think maybe the museum for John Hughes are his movies."




Then my dear friend wrote back one of the best paragraphs I have read in a long time:
I have been reading this over and over and not wanting to respond until I had the right words.
I don't think I will ever have the right words.
But you cannot give up on this idea.
I agree on his movies being his museum also.
But he defined our teenage years.
There is no one that cannot relate to his characters. 
 If you truly feel a museum may not be the route to go, then why not a john Hughes festival every year? 
It makes total sense how you felt like you spent the day with him.
I truly believe HE chose to spend this day with you.
There is a reason you found about this tour. 
Once in a lifetime opportunity ....?
Maybe.
 But it's one that you got to experience fully.

I think I read and re-read that probably ten times.
Would Mr. Hughes even want a museum?
He seemed so quiet and reserved, to me his movies live on as to be his living museum.
Maybe a museum that blared DONT YOU FORGET ABOUT ME as you walk in the door would be too commercial for a man who seemed to shy away from the Hollywood lifestyle.




But how cool would it be to have a place to go to honor him, to listen to the music of his movies, to see items from movies that we grew up with.
To touch tangible things such as Claire's prom dress or the car from Ferris Bueller's Day Off.
To be able to do THE dance in THE library and not care what the eff people think.
That was the vision I had when thinking of this museum, not a stuffy place with columns and blue blazers and glossy programs with glass walls and red velvet ropes.

When I walked in his house that day, I heard, even among the little white haired bridge club interior decorator ladies, rumblings of ...... sixteen candles sspsss sspss breakfast club sspsssspss ....even those ladies were in awe.
They got it.
They knew.
Because even among those ladies there was a teenage girl in 1984 crushing on a boy who had no idea she existed, sick of losing to the beautiful girl cheering loudly on the inside because FINALLY there was a movie character that was winning the boy and she wasn't drop dead gorgeous.
She was you.
And you.
And me.
And who did she owe it to?
John Hughes.

Did it happen in my high school?
Hellz no.
But the fact that it happened on the movie screen was cinematic history and that, my friends, is why I love this man.






Maybe it is stupid, a pipe dream, my mid-life version of a corvette or a hot young blonde.
But whatever it is, I am not giving up.
But just wait until you hear what I have in store.
Let's just say it involves a road trip, old friends and a script.









 

5.11.2015

The Day I Found Out I Was In Menopause

I'm nothing if not blunt.
That is who I am.
My whole life I have been known to have a "way with words.
That is a nice way of saying "I have no tact at times when tact is needed".
I would never have done well in olden times.
You know, when women were supposed to be quiet and discreet.
Seen and not heard.
Yeah, I would not have done well with that AT ALL.
I can actually hear my grandma laughing from Heaven at that comment.
Yes, I have always been loud, obnoxious at times, I walk with purpose, I belch at inappropriate times, I laugh boisterously and even snort at times and I talk about personal things in public.
A lot.
That is why I am perfectly suited to write a blog.
And possibly work for Depends at some point.

You all have been on this journey with me since last fall.
It is no surprise that I have not been myself.
Feeling off, not quite Kari-like, it has been coming for some time now.
But I was telling myself that it's too early, my mom told me, my friends told me, everyone told me.
I am only mid forties, menopause is far, far away.
I joked about it in my Listen to Your Mother piece, never thinking it was imminent.
Just a distant funny thing.


Twitter


But come fall, it wasn't so much funny as puzzling.
Why am I such an asshole?
What is the dealio??
I mean, I am a raging jerk one week a month every month since 1984 LIKE CLOCKWORK but this was assholery like I had never experienced before.






Then came the melancholy.
I thought I needed a job.
Then I thought I needed a dog.
Then I thought I needed a job AND a dog.
Then came the migraines.
Then came the meds.
Then came the mood swings.
Then came the OMG I NEED TO HAVE ICE CREAM!
For breakfast.
Then I thought I needed things like a new front door color.








I even wrote a post about needing to have a John Hughes Museum.
WHICH WE STILL TOTALLY NEED.
But I dropped the ball and didn't "make a plan" or find a "starting point" even though my good friend gave me a lead and everything.
Because foggy brain and busy painting a blue door and googling teddy bear dogs and eating ice cream for breakfast and being an a@#hole to my family.
I'VE BEEN BUSY PEOPLE,  OKAY??




Meanwhile, I have children living at home.
WHILE I am going through "life changes".
Most women who are going through "life changes" have grown children, so this has been hard on them and me, not gonna sugar coat it.
Add in one child with ADHD and the other child with a schedule that is killing my soul,  a husband that is never home and I literally said the other day to no one in particular, " I QUIT!
I AM PUTTING IN MY TWO WEEKS NOTICE! LOOK AT ME!  I AM TAKING OFF MY NAME TAG!  PACKING MY STUFF UP! TAKING THE BOOKS OUT OF MY LOCKER!"

I am not lying.
I said it to no one listening.
Because no one listens any more.
Because assholery.



So when I went in for a scheduled appointment with my gynecologist recently, I should mention the appointment my husband begged me to make because assholery on my part, she showed me numbers on a chart.
She listened to my symptoms.
And she said, "well your numbers in the fall showed you were in peri-menopause so you are probably in it now".
WHAT?
Apparently you can still get your period while "in" menopause, ladies.
This I did not know.
It takes us YEARS to jump off the proverbial hormone cliff, so yay us.
The joy will keep going on and on and on.
BEING A WOMAN IS SUCH A MIRACULOUS THING.
(Cue the Kimmy Schmidt theme song, FEMALES ARE STRONG AS HELL ....mmmmm DAMMIT)

She did an ultrasound, found some "things" and said, "yep looks like we are starting menopause".
I might have said to her, "We???? There's no "we" in menopause!!"
Because assholery.
It's OK, she gets it.
But then I had a moment of  WAIT WHAT?!?!

Don't get me wrong, I am happy to get rid of the old hag, Flo.
I am not at all going to miss her but just, really?
She did say, "you are really young to be starting, when did your mom start menopause?"
My mom and grandma didn't start young, I won't divulge as they were ladies, unlike their daughter and granddaughter who shares everything with the world.
But then she asked about my dad's mom and it hit me,  "I don't know" I said.
Because she died very young, before her history was to be played out.
I found out later, she died at age 41, so my genetic ties may be linked to hers and as I sat on the table with the crunchy paper gown over my legs, I felt very linked to a grandmother I never had the pleasure of meeting.


The day I found out I was in menopause, it was 70 degrees and sunny.
I drove home with the sunroof open and blasted Pump Up The Jam by Technotronic and cried loudly.
The day I found out I was in menopause, I registered my youngest daughter for second grade, made the best spaghetti of my life and wrote a really hard email to her teacher.
The day I found out I was in menopause, I didn't go to my oldest daughters soccer game because I was really upset at her, the first time in her life I have ever done that. Because assholery.
And then I went to bed at 7:30, but I didn't actually fall asleep until 9.
.






I have been quite a joy to live with this year.
Yesterday was Mothers Day, in case you weren't sure.
I stayed off of social media for the most part because it was too much, honestly.
I have my mommy still, thankfully.
I called her first thing in the morning and we had a great conversation, long distance.
I hate that we have to do that, but thank God I have her on Earth.
We talked about the old days, its been a good ten years since we have lived near each other and could spend Mothers Day's together.
I miss her on these days so this year, when it was 50 degrees, rainy and foggy, AND I was in menohell, it was rough.
Plus she wasn't feeling well, so I thought this day was going to suck, plain and simple.

But God gave us a crappy weather day and you know what?
It was a gift.
Oh what a gift it was.
Because yesterday, we stayed inside and I got to introduce the movie, Pretty in Pink to my first grader.
JUDGE AWAY.
Who, by the way, loves Duckie now.
I got sweat to Just Dance with that same first grader and laugh like I haven't in months.
I got to sit, legs intertwined with my 15 year old on the couch while she asked me opinions about things like clothing and dating.....we aren't talking about that right now.

My husband made his famous chocolate chip cookies while the girls and I giggled in the family room and talked about how Ellie will "never have children" and then I listened to my girls who normally fight incessantly, actually get along.
OMG THEY ARE GETTING ALONG.
Then, right before dinner, a dinner I didn't have to make or set the table for, Ellie said, "you know what, when we are grown up, I am bringing my kids over to your house for Mothers Day...." and we all laughed because she got caught.
YOU SAID YOU WEREN'T GOING TO HAVE KIDS!!!!

And then she said, " I am not! I will just drag my husband to your house mom because I will always want to spend Mothers Day with you!"
Then my teenager who never wants to show that she needs us said "I do want to have kids so I will always bring mine ".

I don't care what Anne Lamott says, I love having my kids bring me flowers, I love that they love to love me on Mothers Day.
I needed this damn day.
And someday, its OK if they don't and they have their own families.
I will go to them.
But this menopausal mommy, needed the hell out of that foggy, cold, day in May.
I love you, my beautiful girls.
Know that.
I am really sorry for this year.
Thank you for yesterday.
I will cherish it for the rest of my every day's.








 

5.04.2015

10 Reasons Why We Need A John Hughes Museum in Chicago

There is something that is very close to my heart, a project that I have been sitting on.
Maybe "sitting on" isn't a good description.
" I thought of it back in February and never did anything else about it" better sums it up.
I want a John Hughes museum to come to Chicago.
That's it.
I haven't done anything more than say it out loud.
Oh and I went on Kickstarter and looked at the website.
Oh and talked to my friends Kari, Vikki and Melisa about it.
But someone COUGH Melisa COUGH is too "busy" to help me stalk former Brat Pack celebrities to get on the cause.
In her defense, she really is busy.


Why is there not a John Hughes museum in Chicago?
He is from the Chicago area, he wrote and centered most of his films in the Chicago area and he is laid to rest here in the suburbs.
Why is he not being honored here?
In the Chicago metro area, there is a button museum, a museum about money, yes, money.
Even a stained glass window museum but no museum honoring the creative genius behind such movies as Breakfast Club,  Sixteen Candles and Ferris Bueller's Day Off.
Does no one else think this is an injustice?
AM I THE ONLY PERSON THAT THINKS THIS IS JUST WRONG??



Maybe I need to get the attention of wealthy investors or NO! WAIT! JUDD NELSON!
Because he seems like he would be just feisty enough to stir up a s#$% storm in Hollywood to get this project started.
Pull a John Bender and throw a chair at a party in Burbank...do they have even have parties in Burbank??
And be all WHY IS THERE NO JOHN HUGHES MUSEUM YOU CRUSTY HOLLYWOOD TYPES?!?!
All while having a lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth, a bourbon in his hand and ripping pages out of a book.
SWOON
OMG he is STILL hot.


Here are my ten reasons why we need a John Hughes museum in Chicago.






We live in a time and place where a reality show teen is showing other teenage girls how to enlarge their lips with a shot glass.
People have invented a contraption that can extend a pole to take a picture....of themselves.
WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO US?
Yet the man who created movies that gave teenagers a voice in the 80's, movies that still speak to an entirely different generation to this day, isn't being honored in some way, shape or form?
But we can take a picture of ourselves in front of the Portillo's on West Ontario.
Yay us.




Whatever happened to those underpants?
The table that Jake and Samantha made a wish on?
Andie's prom dress?
Or Ferris Bueller's clarinet?
Wouldn't you pay, oh I don't know, say, 15 bucks admission or so to see all those things and more?
The original Breakfast Club screenplay was recently found in a cabinet in a suburban Chicago high school.
All willy nilly in a cabinet.
You know.
Like you do.
THIS IS HUGE, PEOPLE!
LIKE THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENCE FOR PEOPLE LIKE ME!
WE NEED A DAMN MUSEUM!




Think of the amazing food court we could have inside the museum because HELLO CHICAGO.
We could even offer food that was represented in the movies!
Claire's sushi!
Uncle Buck's pancakes!
Home Alone pizza!
Wet sandwiches from Vacation!
Yeah maybe not a good idea....







IS THIS WHERE WE GET TO WALK INTO THE PROM PIMPED OUT IN REALLY COOL CLOTHES AND MAKEUP TO A KILLER SOUNDTRACK AND THEIR MOUTHS DROP OPEN?!?!?!?!

NO???

Did that slip out?



Back to the list.





Duckie would want it this way because he could ride his bike there from his cool loft in Chinatown.
Wilst wearing his duck shoes.
OK I need to get something out.
I COULD NOT STAND Duckie in that movie.
OMG NO.
And neither could you.
We have this weird 80's amnesia-like thing going on that is making us all lovey on him that is driving me BONKERS.
He was all needy and weirdly stalker-like in that movie AND YOU KNOW IT.
It wasn't until the last scene at the prom that he got so amazingly HOT that you fall in love with Duckie.
THAT'S RIGHT.
REMEMBER IT.
Even Jon Cryer is on my side on this one.
But I bet we could get one Jon Cryer to come to the red carpet opening of the museum.
Because he has a book to plug now.
Of course he wouldn't be wearing the shoes because the shoes would be IN the museum!!!
And you know you want to pay to see those shoes.
Don't you?





We could offer cool side tours in addition to the museum that will take tourists and locals alike to the movie locations and homes that were used in the movies.
Hollywood doesn't hold all the titles for movie making, Chicago holds its own when it comes to cinema history and has many cool places to show off.
Almost all of John Hughes movies were shot right here.
The entire Breakfast Club movie was shot in the Chicago suburbs.
Uncle Buck, Ferris Bueller, She's Going to Have a Baby, Home Alone, Sixteen Candles and more.
If we lined up tours of each movie along with cool places to eat along the way, wouldn't you pay to do something like that?
And if I could get Vince Vaughn to stand at the front of the bus with a microphone wearing a Blackhawks jersey using a really strong Chicargo accent, I know you would pay.
THAT'S RIGHT.
.....need to find Judd Nelson's number........he's got to be in the white pages.........Nelson, Nelson......








We have two airports now.
Plus there's always Milwaukee.
You won't ever have to worry about not landing here again.
Unless we get really bad weather.
But that hardly EVER happens.
Hardly.
WHAT?







The museum would be a great field trip museum.



We could even do this:




You know.
For old times sake.







You do make a difference, I say, to anyone from ages 0- 100, who feel like they don't fit into the box society places them in.
You count.
Someone does care.
John Hughes cared.
A museum like this would be a great tribute to a really cool guy but also someone who didn't fit into societal roles and didn't want you to either.








Think about everyone you know who loved John Hughes movies in high school, college, middle school, now.
Were you in one of the groups listed above?
John Hughes was relatable to everyone.
And 25 years later, his work is still relatable.
That to me is a talent that we should feel honored to see in our lifetime and that is why I want to work hard to honor that in my lifetime.



So if you want a museum in YOUR lifetime that honors the man that created the movies that formed a generation, please help me.
Because I have no idea where to start.
Seriously.
But Judd, if you happen to read this, call meeee.
I'll give you my cubic zirconia earring any time.
WHAT??
 
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