das is gut

I went to the Christmas market in Chicago today

     I love going there.  Honestly, I love the ones in Europe better, but it's easier to go to Chicago.
     I don't know if it is the crowds, the decorations, the ornaments, the food or the wine, but I just love walking through the market.
     I went to get a wine and they were out of mugs!  Seriously....out of mugs.
    A truck was supposed to be bringing more, so we walked around.  We is Dan, Linda and me.....taking the train to the big city.
    We went to Macy's, which I still call Field's,  looked at the windows and the big tree.
     Every year I promise myself that next year I will bring the family to have lunch in the Walnut Room by the big tree.
     I have been saying that since  each of the girls were born.  I may be one of about 6 people who live in Chicago who have never eaten in the Walnut Room at Christmas time.  And yes, 6 is an exaggeration.
     Anyway, the windows were again a disappointment.  Jackie and I used to love looking at Fields' windows...they were magical.  Usually they told a story and were just amazing.
     Now, not so much.
    Of course I had to eat, so a bratwurst with sauerkraut was fair fare, along with a potato pancake.  Of course I had to buy roasted nuts.  Of course I had to buy some ornaments.  Of course I finally got a cup of mulled hot wine in a commemorative mug.
     Funny thing happened though.
    We were at the train station and I saw something interesting at a kiosk in the basement area, outside French Market.  So I decided to make a purchase.  The lady said she took credit cards, but preferred cash.  She used her phone to process credit cards.....so I paid cash.  I used the last of my cash, but took my purchase and moved on.
     Then I hit Vanille....a pastry shop and was captivated by two scrumptious bits of sweet delight  I asked the fair lass if she perchance accepted the credit card known as Visa, and she did.
     So I reached for my wallet and ....... huh.  It was in my coat pocket.  Not there.  Maybe another pocket. No.  My pants? No.  sweatshirt pocket?  No.
     My wallet was gone.
     With sweat (or tears of fear, not sure) running across my brow, I raced back to the kiosk where I made my purchase and there was my wallet, sitting on the table in plain sight for anyone to take.
     No one did.
     I counted my blessings.  Then charged my pastries.
     When will I ever learn??

Out of cups?  I'll just  get one from these boxes

Success......The nutcracker was envious

Neatest window at the store formerly known as Marshall Field

Yes, it is indeed.