What's wrong with this picture?

Six-thirty a.m. December 25th, 2015.  39°N 92°W (mid-Missouri in case you are wondering) and the big white dog (that would still be Elvis) decided he wanted to go outside.  The only thing abnormal about that would be that he waited that late.  After he returned I settled in on the couch to try to get a little more snooze time.  This is where it gets wonky.  Early Christmas morning, mid-Missouri and a robin is singing outside.  Whiskey tango foxtrot?  

Noonish here in the wastelands on the day after Christmas and it's 48° f.  At the risk of repeating myself. whiskey tango foxtrot? 

Christmas robin should be grateful he isn't a St. Stephen's day wren, and this part of the country is not deeply rooted in Celtic traditions.

Last November when I rebooted Midnight Ramblings I predicted I would be on pace to have fifty entries in the pipeline by the first of the year.  Yeah, yeah I know.  "Chip, you cheated.  You probably used timey-wimey, wibbly wobbly editing tricks."  Not this time, this makes number forty-seven,  I've managed to mostly maintain my self-imposed deadline.  Ain't no one more surprised about it than I am.

The bad news; you've probably gotten all nine weeks of previous entries.  So much for staying ahead of the thundering herd.  The good news is there are probably at least 4 sticky notes on the desktop with ideas for a few more entries.  

The next goal; fifty-five new entries since the reboot thus surpassing the total posts for the previous 4 1/2 years.  Eight more and a new goal.

Poor confused robin is still out there, pathetically trying to attract some attention;
"Hello? Can anyone hear me?  Is this thing on?"  Tap, tap, tap. 
I fear that poor, confused robin may soon be poor, sad, confused robin as I'm not entirely convinced the weather will remain unseasonably mild for the next 90 days.

Thanks, as always.    

See you tomorrow.