Thanks for the Writing

If there’s one thing I love on the weekends, it’s spending some time in Greer Chicago. The staff alone is amazing. But add in the window displays, the inspirations hanging on the wall, the music currently moving their hips and repurposed items to hold cards and well, it’s hard not to find reasons to stick around in there.

Many of my mail recipients tell me the joy they get seeing an envelope that has actual handwriting on it. But the crazy part is, I have more fun picking cards and then rationalizing why Lisa needs the “Smile. Ryan Gosling Exists” card in that exact moment. (I think we all know where Mom and I will stop by this weekend)

And with the latest posts from The Wall Street Journal and Harvard Business Review, it doesn’t appear I’ll be stopping anytime soon. I find myself repeatedly looking through my card boxes and folders when I just need a little pick me up. I have a Valentine’s card that was too hilarious from Mom two years ago that continues to sit on my desk. I cannot imagine a world without handwritten notes and it seems there are a few others out there who will make sure we won’t.

 

Play Ball

It’s here: Opening Day. The day that assures you summer will eventually come. That days of humidity and sweat are just around the corner. And I for one love it. Baseball games have been there during Sunday morning nap times and for father/daughter bonding moments. But I cannot lie, I love seeing baseball on the big screen. From Bull Durham and A League of Their Own to The Natural and Eight Men Out, I cannot get enough.

We’re heading to the Cubs/Brewers game next Tuesday. I’m sure it will be a bit chilly, but I just cannot wait to hear the crack of bats and cheers of the crowd. And that damn Cubs song. I may loathe the Cubs, but nothing compares to a game at Wrigley when they sing that song. And then in a few weeks, Tim and I will make our way down to The Cell for the White Sox/Red Sox series to celebrate him getting into a little place called Harvard.

Regardless if I’m watching professionals play or just throwing a ball around down at North Ave., baseball brings a simple joy. And if you need a reminder of that joy: