Fellow Cheeseheads: I Am a Traitor. I Love Chicago.

People of Chicago: You have a beautiful city.

Not the best photo, but? The Christmas tree in the middle!

Might be that when I peer out the window on the Firelit Hill each night-- unless there is a fire-- it's unbroken black. Or that usually when I take a walk, I encounter no human face. But surrounded by Chicago's blazing, flashing Milky Way of city lights... feeling the warm breeze of moving masses of humanity everywhere I turned... it was a booster shot of vigor and good spirit.

I wasn't even concerned with the constant helicopter whirr outside our hotel Saturday morning, until I thought about it. Then I looked out the window.

The kid's birthday gift was tickets to "Wicked" Friday night, and our seats were fantastic. Plus, packed house save for one empty chair-- the one right in front of her. She was speechless the rest of the night.

T.rex head

Saturday night, we had a pizza that, upon very brief reflection, we proclaimed the best we'd ever eaten-- a "Lou" from Lou Malnati's. It was our second excellent meal at a surprisingly cheap price.

I hadn't seen the Museum of Science and Industry's Coal Mine since I was little, and didn't remember much about it-- probably because the tour and its info have kept pace with changing technology. The line to get in was long, but we were glad we waited. And I'd never been in the U-505, the German sub whose capture was a major turning point in World War II. Amazing story: sailors packed so tightly in a claustrophic space-- for months-- that even breathing and talking was regulated... and a US Captain nearly court-martialed for capturing the sub who instead was made Admiral. The museum has copies of the book he wrote about it, as well as one by a German crewman. I'm immersed.

Who remembers these? Both museums we visited had a number of them, which I hadn't seen in decades. My companion thought they were just the coolest. Two bucks per plastic pal.

When Sunday night came and it was time to leave, we resisted, stalling at Peet's Coffee on North, still loving the crowds. Then the lights faded one by one, mile by mile. But there was a little humor on the way:

My Christmas gift was a dashboard GPS, who's been named "Rhoda" (but, of course!) Rhoda's a good time, and so far I let her tell me where to go even when I know where I am.

Rhoda is controlled by touching her screen, which means basically that whenever you touch Rhoda, something happens whether you intend it to or not. Rhoda speaks American English out of the box. As we were leaving the Belvidere Oasis, I touched her to start and accidentally opened the program that gives the voice different languages, accents, and genders.

"Hey! We could make Rhoda sound British! Or Australian! Or be a Slavic-speaking male!"

Seconds later, without cause, Rhoda leaped from her mount onto my lap.

"Rhoda's flipping out-- she doesn't care for that idea!"

Just how much she didn't care for it, we found very soon. Rhoda began telling me turns that didn't make sense, as I knew the route. I looked at her screen. She was now giving us directions... to drive straight into the Yahara River. How that could have been programmed completely by a one-touch accident, I have no clue. But I started calling her "Hal" after that.

We made it home anyway.

Can't wait to get back.