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!
I've been working up north, conducting surveys about eating out, and it's been a long week. Someone asked what I look forward to when I get home, and it's eating simple food I make myself, in my own kitchen. That and walking the dog on the County Grounds.
Best of all is preparing food from the Saturday farmer's market and sharing it with friends. The dog is immune to the pleasures of fresh vegetables.
When asked why Tosan Sue Black, Parks Director, was summarily fired, County Executive Chris Abele retorted "I don't owe you gossip."
Of course not. Gossip is a disservice to everyone.
As I read the death dates tatooed on the beautiful brown skin of the woman sitting next to me, I wonder whether her heart rests a little easier for having them there, a reminder for everyone to see.
The bus stops and a small, pale old man wrestles his walker aboard. He wears a Filippino shirt with suspenders underneath so as not to interfere with the smooth and casual lines. The walker sports an Amnesty International bumper sticker, and the man sports a button proclaiming "I stand with the sisters." I'm pretty sure it's the nuns on the bus, the religious women defending themselves in their own church, he stands with, and I smile. He winks back.
They say Wisconsin has two seasons: winter and road construction. But the Wisconsin I live in has two, and my favorite is farmer's market season. So while my friend Tom writes of the gustatory and comardely pleasures of the pursuit of the finned, feathered, and furry flesh, I must write of pursuit of the fruit.
Idaho peaches. I could stop right there, but you know me.