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About Chicago

So, I sidle up, all nervous-like—me, Dolly, nervous! Can ya believe it? I’m sweatin’ more’n a sinner in church, thinkin’, “What if she laughs at my rhinestone boots?” I ask her, “Sugar, how’d ya end up here?” She smirks, says somethin’ bout payin’ bills, dodgin’ creeps, and outsmartin’ the law. Did y’all know some gals back in the 1800s used to hide cash in their corsets? Little secret pockets—crafty as all get-out! She’s got that same grit, I reckon, only now it’s 2025 and she’s probly got Venmo hidin’ in her phone.

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I keep reading here and elsewhere to avoid La Mirage and Desert Oasis, and those general areas of town. A lot of what I read is at least a year old though.

I also love the little twists of the city that no one else notices. Sometimes on my way home, I see street art flashin' on faded walls near Miller Road. Not a lot of fuss, but it's art, ya know? It's like I see a fleeting smile on the city, and it makes me happy. Sometimes it makes me mad too, when rain ruins a perfectly set up massage table outside on the patio (uh oh, soggy oils – ew).

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