It's cold in Springfield.

I made it to Springfield, Illinois. I've also now worn my winter coat and scarf for the first time this season. I visited Lincoln's house, which was nice. It's the only house he ever owned, and he lived there for seventeen years before heading to Washington to be president. The tour guide made sure to point out, about a billion times, that Lincoln did really well as a lawyer and thus could afford a two-storied five-bedroom house with nice furniture and a fancy stove in the kitchen. No log cabin here.


This evening I attended a reception at the Old Capitol, which has been redone to look like it did back in Lincoln's day with the courtroom, senate chamber, etc. There are plaques and signs on every block of downtown Springfield with something-or-another about Lincoln. He went to church here, he worked there, a guy in this building repaired his buggy, he bought some candy from that store, his son was bitten by a rabid dog near here, and on and on. I think it's safe to say Springfield is a little bit obsessed with Honest Abe.