Grutz says, "Turning lemons into lemonade." or "Good lord, when the when was the last time I was out until 4 a.m.?!?"

It's all in how you look at it.

The front door to our building is kind of crummy.  Well, not the door itself, rather, how it's hung.  And the worn and warped 19th century metal threshold.  To enter or exit, one must exert an-above-average-required-to-open-a-door amount of strength.  The bottom of the door catches and rubs (ever-so-NOT-gently) the metal threshold sending a shrieking banshee-like cry up the stairwell.  Followed by a decidedly ferocious "thud" upon shutting.

I am a master at identifying this particular entryway's call.  Like a seasoned ornathologist, I can immediate identify 'when' and 'where' the door at 1124 W. 19th Street opens and closes.  Last night early, early this morning I perfected my skill when the drunk kids down stairs came home from the bars.

Now this 'screech-thud' is familiar to most who've visited our abode.  It, though, is still new to Arnie.  He didn't like it.  Or maybe it was the folks coming and going for over 2 hours.  Or maybe it was the pounding on doors or honking of horns or a drunk gal yelling for "Becky!" a few, what felt like, dozen times.  Maybe he was just tired and cranky.  Who could blame him?  So a little after 2 a.m., Carleen and I heard Arnie bark.  This was his first bark, indoors, and we didn't want to upset any of the other neighbors who actually might be sleeping/add more noise to the already ridiculous cacophony/let Arnie develop a bad habit.  So I stood over him for about 2 hours redirecting him when he felt compelled to bark.  Arnie was actually great, sleeping until someone clomped up the stairs, talking loudly (about every 5-7 minutes), at which he'd lift his head and start to manifest a growl or weak yelp, which I would then hastily end.  Around 4 a.m. when I thought all the festivities had finally ceased, I went up the creaky spiral staircase up to my restless wife to catch some winks.  Alas, party-harty young people of the world!  So Carleen went down for a bit to sooth him.  I couldn't really sleep and as I laid there, I told myself that this was a wonderful opportunity to bond with Arnie and a great lesson on not barking, not honing a grudge against some folks I don't even know.  Carleen and I will have many, many chances to teach and redirect Arnie over the next 15 or so years.  Every moment is a teachable moment with a pooch, I just have to keep telling myself that and not get pissed off at drunk kids, which I have to say, I really didn't, I was more baffled.  But honestly, can YOU remember the last time YOU stayed up until 4?

It's summer! No wait, it's fall.  Nope, it's summer!  Aww, it's like early spring.  Welcome to May in Chicago! (sun, rain, rain, rain, sun, sun, rain, rain, clouds, rain, sun, oh, and always windy)

So it was in the mid-80s earlier this week.  Yours truly has his farmers tan.  Already!  And now it's been raining/misting for about 48 hours and the mercury is hanging out around 45º F.  Yeesh, spring time in Chicago is a game of chance.  It's windy, wet, and cold and we have an energetic dog that needs exercise.  "An exhausted dog, is a well behaved dog." as I've been know to say (ok, that's the first utterance).  So Carleen and I have been faithfully devoted to our daily constitutionals with Arnie, regardless of weather or, for that matter, time of day.  On these walks I'm remind of how variable the weather in the upper midwest can be.  Even when it's bad, I always remind myself that late spring, summer and early fall are worth the crummy weather the rest of the year.

Besides, it could be worse.  We could be in the flood plains along the Mississippi.  Oh, how I love the flood wall in Dubuque.  An eyesore she might be, but what a fine buffer from flooding.  Or you could be up in a tree a few hundred feet up in the cold and rain, like these guys.  (If you haven't visited the bald eagle's nest in while, the ugly eaglets are now not-nearly-as-ugly adolescents.)

Who's birthday is it today?
Hal Borland (May 14, 1900 – February 22, 1978) was a well-known American author and journalist. In addition to writing several novels and books about the outdoors, he wrote "outdoor editorials" for The New York Times for more than 30 years, from 1941 to 1978. Hal Borland was born on the plains in Sterling, Nebraska. His family moved to Colorado, where he grew up. After attending local schools, he studied at the University of Colorado. He studied journalism and graduated from Columbia University.  Borland started writing as a journalist for publications such as the Denver Post, The New York Times, and Audubon Magazine. From 1941-1978, he wrote what he called "outdoor editorials" for the New York Times.

In 1945 he and his wife moved to a 100-acre farm in Connecticut, and lived and worked there. She was also a writer. He published several collections of his nature writing, in addition to novels and other non-fiction books.

Gus Viseur, born Gustave-Joseph Viseur (15 May 1915 – 25 August 1974) was a Belgian/French button accordionist.

Gus Viseur was a virtuoso in the musette genre, during the swing era in the 1930s. He is the only jazz accordionist who is a member of the famous Hot Club de France, conducted by Charles Delauday.Gus Viseur began his career playing in the streets of Paris. He managed to get a great sound from a chromatic button accordion. It was clear that he was doing something innovative: He helped create the accordion-jazz style known as manouche. Meeting Django Reinhardt and performing with the legendary Quintet of the Hot Club of France was an important new chapter in his life. Later he even played bebop in the fifties. He was the first to draw a link between Musette and Jazz, but he never forgot Musette. That was his main voice. There is an unbelievable strength in his playing, that gives him the ability to improvise in all those different music genres. In addition to his numerous recordings he also performed in cabarets and nightclubs.

-thanks wikipeida!