A smattering of thoughts from yesterday, some retrieved from my Moleskine . . .

My seatmates (on the flight to Chicago) are two of the nicest ladies I have ever met . . . both are headed to Michigan.

The good thing about a 7am flight is that it goes quickly when one sleeps the whole time.

The drive from O'Hare to downtown goes quickly as well, when one works the whole time.

I love my hotel . . . it is small, in an old and beautifully restored building. [Later, upon checking in . . . ] and the room is like a lovely little jewel box, with a small, but stunning, view of Lake Michigan.

Riding the "L" to Wrigley Field, I realize that a Cubs fan's version of hell is being surrounded by Cardinals fans on a small train car, with all of them seeking to one-up each other with Cardinals history and trivia.

The ushers at Wrigley Field are like an entire team of sweet and welcoming grandparents.

It takes an interesting older lady to create a Cubs hat with a fake dead red bird (legs up) on top of it.

Mixing romance (or anything resembling it) with baseball is a bad idea.

The new young Cubs fans arrive late, block one's view of Ryan Theriot scoring what would be the Cubs' only run of the game, stare at their cell phones for several minutes upon arrival, call someone to say, "I'm at the Cubs game!" and then take several pictures of each other and the field before finally settling in to see what is happening on the field.

I will never understand how Albert Pujols is such a good hitter (except for this season, so far) despite his incredibly awkward batting stance.

Who is the person in the dugout who throws Derek Lee the next inning's toss-around ball each time he comes off the field?

I like having Ted Lilly on the Cubs . . . there is something solid and reassuring about him. Maybe it's because his name is actually Theodore Roosevelt Lilly.