Saturday, November 5, 2016


I've been playing Pokemon Go.  Yes, that game.  I originally downloaded it on Chris's phone so he and the kids could play together, but I soon realized that wasn't happening all that often, so I downloaded it on my phone.  Sabrina was the one talking about it, by the way.  Not that Sammy wasn't interested, but Sabrina was constantly bugging me to open the app wherever we might be.

Not too long after that, we left on a road trip that took us to, among many places, Chicago.  We had a day to explore the city (and pay ridiculous parking fees), and explore we did.  To keep the kids happy while we covered many miles and mitigate the whining (notice I didn't say stop the whining), I tapped open the app.  I have no idea what you call all these little boogers, but boy, sis we have fun catching them when the popped up.  And in big city tourist areas like Navy Pier, they pop up a lot.  And Sabrina and I went after them.  In fact, at one point, we got separated from the boys and ended up chasing down a Pikachu (the only one I can ever remember) and catching it, just to have the app crash and we lost out on our favorite little Pokedude.  We were both totally bummed.  That's when I knew I was in deep. 

To be fair, I only like catching the characters.  I'm not into the powering up and fighting them or whatever it is you do with this gym business.  I like the collecting aspect.  So we walk around the neighborhood and other places, phone in hands (take turns, people), hoping for that familiar buzz that shows a new creature.  And yes, although I say we, I do play when I'm by myself sometimes.  OK, a lot of the time.  I am a sad, sad person.  Yep. 

Chris is on level 473 of Candy Crush, so I feel like this all balances out. 

(We have yet to catch a Pikachu.)

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