I go out walking

Chicago feels like it was a million years ago. I'm fully immersed in planning for my next adventure, yet there are a few moments that were captured over the Christmas trip that simply can not be left un-blogged. Bloggless? De-blog-ged? Whatevs. Here's a story:

It was Christmas Day.  Ellie and I wanted to take a brisk walk, so we set about enlisting any and everyone who might be tempted to join us. We set out as a decent sized group: Me, El, Mr. Uncle Schlekah, Ann, Colleen, Erin, Joey, Corey and Hubble-bubelicious.

Here is one third of that gang.

But alas and alak, our journey was shortlived. You see, the good young Hubba Bubbles was hobbled. He had gotten himself into some class of shard earlier in the day, and his wittle paw-paw was bleeding. We wrapped and attempted to waterproof the offensive limb, which introduced a most awesome inspiration for crazy-walk that we all relished in mimicking, but the fix didn't hold and Hubsie Bubs was soon deemed unfit for the mean streets of those 'burbs. He was airlifted back to the safety of his own warm home.

While relinquishing the Hubmeister, we also lost two more of our brood. These two may be beautiful and bright and all that, but above all else they are WIMPS of epic proportions. They bolted for the safety of Hubble's warm house, without even a lame paw to excuse their failure. DisaPOINTing.

The rest of us continued out there in the big white world. Ellie and Ann and I charged along through the streets, Ann sorta kinda knew where we were and it was mostly a big square that we navigated by opting toward any avenue that showed signs of recent shovel action. And then we came to a corner, and the heavens opened up so the angels could peer out to sing a sweet, pure love song. It was A BAR!

We stood on that corner chuckling about how funny it would be if we went to a bar. If only we had some money. Then I reached into my pocket and lo! behold! A $20! Oh, it was meant to be. We peered with purpose at the oncoming traffic to await our signal to cross. There was a snowplow headed in our direction, so we stepped back to let him pass. But he paused! And honked! He gave us an enthusiastic fist pump and smile, seeing our gazes fixed so doggedly on that watering hole.

We crossed, and approached. It was snowing, it was Christmas. It was closed.

Boooooooo.

Just as we turned to head back toward home, we were jarred by a HOOONNNNNK. It was our plow guy again, he'd circled around to check our action and now paused once again to offer his input by way of gesture. This time he wagged his finger at us! I've got your finger right here, buddy.

That was the end of our walk, and our almost perfect Christmas Day story.

I did find my way back to that corner, though. But sadly for Ellie, it was after she had gone East

Heading back later in the week to find...

OPEN!

Nothing redeems a corner quite like cold beer next to sweet potato fries.