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Our house is (literally) going to the dogs. At the moment, one tiny Schnauzer is curled up in what he thinks is his chair -- the recliner -- pretending to be asleep because he thinks he's so cute that no one will bother him. He's right. He's cute.

In the living room, Harvey, a large black lab-dachschund-Bassett hound blend has taken over the couch. One sleepy eye opens slowly whenever someone approaches. He too is convinced that he so cute no one would dream of making him share his perch. He too is probably correct in his assumptions.

No question about it.

My memories of the best Christmas ever come in a package wrapped from stores located in the Lima square.

I know. It's sounds impossible to viewers born after Neil A. walked on the moon; but it's true.

There was nothing...nothing like going to Lima and shopping downtown for Christmas. Picture this: Somewhere on South Main there was Porter's Music Store. You could actually select a 33 1/3 rpm album, enter a listening booth and listen to the album in privacy. That way you'd know if you wanted to buy it or pass.