It is 7:16 a.m. Central Time--8:16 Eastern Time--and I have just now woken up. This is shockingly late rising for me, especially in a strange bed, but I slept like the dead last night. The overnight on the train may have been fun, but it wasn't exactly restful, and it seems that my body demanded some payback. So here I am, lolling.

We've got a busy day planned--making a frittata for breakfast with various leftover bits of deliciousness from our dinner out last night, then heading to the botanical garden, followed by an evening at a White Sox game.

The weather in Chicago is divine, full-on spring . . . we walk down the street, past a mariachi band playing in an open garage, past little children and their mothers trotting home from Mother's Day tea at school, past pigeons scuttling and little dogs barking and tulip trees glowing with cones of pink flowers. And here I am, too, striding along with my young people. It is so sweet.