on saturday afternoon my boyfriend (mb) and i were in lincoln square having lunch with my aunt, who is visiting from guatemala, where she has been living for the past three years working as a therapist at a church-run mental health and retreat center up in the mountains. first of all, cheers to chicago for having a guatemalan restaurant for us to visit while we talked about her work. second, cheers to my aunt for being a catholic nun with her masters in biology who, despite those traditional-sounding titles, now works with herbs and crystals and reiki masters. but third, and most importantly, cheers to mb for agreeing to the following evening: as we left the restaurant my aunt invited us to a slide show being put on by one of her other nun-friends about one of their recent visits to the retreat center. my aunt gave us a terrific out, saying she was sure we had other plans, but no... mb: "actually, i would love to see those slides!" and before we knew it, there we were with a dozen sixty-plus-year-old happy white-haired nuns eating ham sandwiches looking at vacation slides. i'm not sure which was my favorite part of the evening - the stacks of feminist literature on the host nun's bookshelves, the whole group's dismay over the recent election results, or mb's excitement about talking with one of the nuns about her recent trip to bangkok. i don't know, if anyone has seen "the ladies' man" you'll have to explain the joke to me. but i stand by the title of this post. not every man would spend his saturday night that way. to be fair, we did go to huettenbar afterward to re-hash the evening in a sufficiently masculine smoke-filled wood-paneled german-beer-stein-pounding fashion.
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