The Hotel: By the time we decided we were going to Cs this year, all the hotels anywhere near the Loop were booked. So I widened my Expedia search and found The Carleton Hotel in Oak Park. Historic and reasonably priced — about a third of anything in the city. Their website is a model of truth-in-advertising. Old, well-preserved building, tasteful rooms, excellent service, free wifi, great area. Decent dining, and within an easy walk of many other eating options. Tonight we walked a little further and hit the Whole Foods to stock the room for a night in. The El is two blocks out the back door, and a 20 minute ride takes us within two blocks of the conference hotel. The Carleton is now our official abode when in the Chicagoland Area.

My morning: Mister Husband was part of the Blog Workshop this morning, so I had several hours to kill. Because of our late planning, I hadn’t pre-registered for any of the other workshops, so I adjourned to the downstairs cafe and read a stack of articles on Wikipedia. Then I sauntered back into the hotel, thinking I’d get a haircut. I meant to attend to the pre-conference beautification last week, but was thwarted by blizzards. (Since true Minnesotans never cancel appointments because of weather, my hairdresser now hates me.) So I headed to the downstairs salon in Palmer House. Then I wandered back upstairs to spy on the Blog Workshoppers progress and got called in to answer a couple of TEACH Act questions. Then I toured around in the arcade shops and got into an interesting discussion on transformation in derivative works with the owner of the Russian Knicknack Shop. All in all, good morning.

The Palmer House Salon: They worked me right in. I’ve had my brows done for years and years now, and this was the most meticulous brow wax I have ever had. It was accomplished by Julia, who came to Chicago 45 years ago when her family left Cuba. She has many theories about how the size of men’s hands and feet reflect their innate character. (Other attributes were not discussed.) Then she turned me over to Angela, whose family fled the Tunisian revolution in 1956, first to Italy and then Chicago. She owned her own salon for years and years until she decided to “retire” by selling her salon (and ditching all the paperwork that went with running it) and working a few days a week for someone else. She gave me the most incredibly mathematical haircut, lopping off a generous couple of inches. If I lived here, I’d go to her all the time. Now I’m stocked with a bottle of Feria Copper Shimmer in the hotel bathroom. It’s been awhile since I’ve dyed my own hair, but I bet I can remember how.

Not reviews, but noted: In my meanderings, I met Collin, Jenny, and Jeff. They were all exactly as I’d hoped they’d be. Also ran into Jim Ridolfo, who I met a few years back when we were visiting Michigan State and have been running into ever since. Always good to see him.