Actually, no need to dream. Heavy rains every few days mean puddles and mud for the Yuletide landscape. Such is this year.

Merry Christmas to all. Back to posting around January 3, 2016, with any luck.

How did it happen that more than half of the second decade of the 21st century is over already? That it’s been nearly 40 years since “Disco Duck” was on the charts? Or, in a more personal vein, that it’s been nearly 30 years since I looked at the Chicago skyline from Grant Park and thought, I’d like to live here. That it’s been nearly 20 years since we agreed, Let’s have that baby. That it’s been nearly 10 years since I sent a postcard of Moraine Lake and the Valley of the Ten Peaks in Alberta from near there, and my entire message was Oh My God.

Enough of that. In a more forward-looking mode, we had lunch on Saturday at a restaurant on Southport Ave. before we went to the Music Box, and a couple wheeled in two very small children in a two-kid stroller. “You know,” I said to Lilly and Ann, “those kids might live to see the 22nd century. Maybe not, but it’s entirely possible.” Food for thought to go along with regular food.