Alright, so I didn't make it to the library this weekend, but I did manage to actually leave the house. I even got to use some conversational Spanish.

I have a habit of getting myself lost even when I know where I'm going. I grabbed the el from the Music Box, rode it to Fullerton and needed to walk to Ashland. I started walking west, but after a couple of blocks I stopped, turned around and went the wrong way. I also have a problem with remembering the order of streets. I should know very well that Ashland is west of Halsted and yet, I ventured east.

After a few blocks, I had concluded that I needed to turn around and go back from whence I came, but I stopped in a McDonald's to receive confirmation. I asked the woman at the counter, "Which way is Ashland?"--blank stare--"Donde esta Ashland?"
"Quien?"
"No, la calle Ashland."
"La calle? Oh, I don't know."

What had just transpired was the most productive use of my years of formal training in a foreign language that I had ever engaged in.
And yet it got me nowhere.
Nevertheless, I did proceed westward to Ashland wherein I discovered that I had actually gotten off at the wrong El stop.

And so yes I ventured to the aforementioned and linked Music Box to see The Fog of War: 11 Lessons From the Life of Robert S. McNamara. I found it to be quite compelling, although it should not be mistaken for a history lesson. I'll say more about it later.