chicagodads

We’re spending Christmas in Branson, MO this year with extended family. Which is always good for several laughs and many, many stories. And if and when I can get my head wrapped right around my story-telling abilities I may share some of these stories. But, as it is, the baby has not gotten her share of sleep this week (starting with the first day where she slept for half the time she normally would and up to and after opening presents Christmas morning, where she screamed several times in front of all gathered for this momentous occasion).

Also, I do most of my thinking on the computer or another location that I like to think of as my solitary-confinement-and-intelligence-gathering area (occasionally those two locations merge), but neither are as readily available to me down here. So, some of my more vivid memories may be recalled and released to the loving, anticipating, and frankly rabid fanbase over the next few weeks. In the meantime, I will say that I love being with my family. And so does my baby - maybe a little too much, in fact. So much so that Thursday afternoon is the first time since Saturday evening that I’ve been able to get on the internets. [Of course, I may lose points if I disclose that Thursday is Christmas day, right? Oh well, it’s the first chance that I’ve gotten to get away from the baby and other responsibilities long enough to travel down to the one place in our time-share  that has internet connection.]

Time-shares are an intriguing concept. I would’ve never have thought they to be as intriguing as they are. At least not based on the high-pressure sales people and their high-pressure sales tactics.

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