The Fredösphere

Wherein Our Hero devises a plan whereby he would transport his family -- countrified naïfs, every one of them -- to the Great City, to absorb some heretofore unseen urban sophistication therein, and to sacrifice his wallet upon the altar of the Temple of Cheap Yet Stylish Furniture.

When we found out the shipping on some Ikea bookcases we want would add 200 bucks to the purchase price, the wifeösphere suggested we take care of the shipping ourselves, which would fulfill a desire of mine to take the whole family to Chicago sometime this summer.  Thus, today we are packing and raiding the library for kids' books on CD.  (We've got some Narnia and some Unfortunate Events; that ought to keep the little darlings happy).

Chicago is a big place, and I seriously doubt any other city on earth could be bigger, yet it stands to reason we will run into OGIC at some point.  In any event, our itinerary puts us at Ikea when it opens on Saturday morning, then Giordano's for some true Chicago-style pizza for lunch (i.e., the only kind to attain greatness), then maaaaaybe a peek at the nearby Water Tower Place, then a whirlwind tour of the Art Institute, wherein the children will get their eyeballs rubbed in some Impressionism, then finally some lever pulling and crank turning at the Museum of Science and Industry.  Then we limp home.  Assuming the place doesn't kill us, or seduce us with its overwhelming wickedness.