If That Hound Kills Another One Of My Chickens...

About all I can say of Lincoln Park is that I live there. Wicker Park is much more my kind of place; a little dicey around the edges, beaucoup activity, charm, loads of great looking women who seem to appreciate my appreciation of them, and it's a world away from Lincoln Park.
L.P. is fine if you're 20something and a pack-runner, or in your 50's and mega-wealthy (the apartment overlooks the Pritzker's 40 Million dollar mansion-to-be)
That said...in the rarest of instances, like today, there'll be a woman that sets herself at considerable apartness from the caliber of oat-sowing girls that L.P. has an overabundance of. To this young woman I'd like to give thanks; also,thanks to God, thanks to Nature, thanks to the Culture of Fitness. Thanks to the sling-back espadrilles with the 2.5 inch wedge; thanks to the designer, mid-thigh denim skirt. Thanks to being a hard-wired heterosexual. Thanks to the Sun for being just west of it's Noon azimuth, so the light was indirect and gave her well-toned stems such a dazzling outline. Also, many, many thanks to Her as she noticed me and struck this KILLER stance as I got closer (left foot just a bit out front, toe pointed out, hand on hip). That KILLED me!
I had just walked out of Breadsmith on Wells. I had two of their AWESOME large sugar cookies clutched in a bag. When I got home, I found that I had dented both of them.