A Tosa resident since 1991, Christine walks the dog, cooks but avoids housework, writes and reads, and enjoys the company of friends and strangers. Her job takes her around the state, learning about people's health. A Quaker (no, they don't wear blue hats or sell oatmeal or motor oil), she has been known to stand on both sides of the political and philosophic fence at the same time, which is very uncomfortable when you think about it. She writes about pretty much whatever stops in to visit her busy mind at the moment. One reader described her as "incredibly opinionated but not judgmental." That sounds like a good thing to strive for!
The neighborhood along Underwood Creek, where I live, is the last neighborhood to come to the “party” of high-power transmission-line musical chairs in Wauwatosa.
I’m not sure why we were last. We weren’t paying attention, I guess. And I wasn't among the 430 people who received invitations to the September 12 "open" house.
Yes, it's black walnut time again.
During last week's heavy winds, a huge branch fell onto my driveway, neatly missing the house. Good neighbor Dave helped me cut up the heavy main branch, and the smaller ones I stuffed into containers awaiting pick up day.
Yesterday was the last day of curbside yard waste pick-up, and I had a lot. After dragging the allowed five containers to the road, uncounted bags of walnuts remained, including one of those giant approved paper bags, the kind that deteriorates in the landfill. Those I just left in the driveway to wrangle when I got home from work.
The big bag joined the rest of the yard pickup, thanks to the hard work and generosity of the haulers, willing to bend a rule. It only took a few seconds, after all.