So does chatting with Sarah at night and with my Internerd friends during the day. With this level of social interaction going on, it’s almost like I didn’t completely fail to leave the house today!

Work is not going to stop until I step onto the plane for home (I toyed with the idea of working on the plane, but I don’t really have to and the fact that the idea crossed my mind made me seriously question my mental health, so I’m officially declaring the ride a book and movie and slumber fest).

Till then I have only these small pieces for you.

It’s been a very long time since I wrote a 10 Things list, though I often think of Steph and wish I had the discipline and determination it takes to reflect so regularly on the things in my life for which I am grateful.

This week, given the season and the fact that I have been feeling a little trod upon by the world lately, seems an appropriate time to resurrect the series and tell you about a few small, sweet brightnesses here in Chicago.

1) Our new parkas. It has finally started to get cold enough to wear them, and we are both astonished at the difference they make on a sharp 20-degree day. Walking around the city in my parka, firm and fluffy as a good pillow, feels a bit like walking around the city while still being in bed.

There is a more flattering photo of Ross wearing his parka on Flickr, but these better reflect our positive frames of mind when encased in parka goodness.

2) We took those pictures last night before venturing out to the Checkerboard Lounge (a South Side institution) for some strong cocktails, delicious blues, and (oddly, but happily) a supper of fried chicken, green beans, potato salad, and meatballs, served to all the patrons of the club at 10:30pm. We had a great time. It’s a funny little place, but it feels real.

3) I talked to Ben using video iChat the other day and though it was not as good as being in the same room with him, we could at least both hug our computers at the end, and that was comforting.

4) Kubhaer and I play Scrabulous on Facebook every day now. He kicks my ass, but it makes me smile like crazy.

5) I’ve been eating slices of pumpkin pie and vanilla ice cream for the past three days.

6) I have new smells, and they are wonderful.

7) Since I last posted, I’ve had a very productive couple of days. I’m not sure how I feel about putting this on a list of things to be grateful for, since frankly I’d rather not have worked a stitch this weekend, but hey. Everything I do now is one less thing I have to do while I’m on vacation. And boy, am I going to need one.

8) Bookmoochers keep sending me books (and I keep sending them away). I get a delicious holiday feeling whenever I look at the pile of new books on my bedside table.

9) I’ll be reading some of those books on the plane—we leave for Singapore in twelve days. Twelve!

10) I just found out that two old old friends I have not seen in a hundred years are also going to be home in December. I can’t quite believe it’s going to happen, but we’re going to get together. Yay!

I’m still a little blue, but this is a good list. And if there were a number eleven, it would be the fact that I’m about to go make ravioli for dinner. And when you’re me, ravioli makes everything better.

Thus it was declared, thus it began, so it continued, and so shall it end. We hope you are as warm, fed, and comfortable tonight as we are. And on this day of thanks (dubious though its origins are) we are grateful, above all, for you whom we love.

We have been having gray days moistened by the tiniest pinpricks of drizzle you can imagine, so that the entire outside world feels like a cool kiss. By the time it is a little past four the sky has darkened into a deep blue stain (never black, because this is a big city and light pollution is a fact of life). I thought I would be sad to see the sun go, but today we rented a Zipcar and drove (up)downtown to collect some Thanksgiving-feast makings, and I have something to tell you:

Chicago is beautiful as autumn shivers into winter. The buildings shimmer silver in the fog, and the city’s harsh brightness softens into an appealing hesitancy. Every shape and outline is atomized, every vista melts into a blurry pointillist painting. And though the trees themselves are now all but bare, street lamps stand in their place. Their tall metal poles disappear completely, leaving only disembodied orange fires glowing atop each one—every light cradled in a fine cloud of mist and hovering over the road like a bower.

Chicago is beautiful.