There’s a brief but interesting discussion on the Tosa Town Square about watching fireworks on TV. This is something that fascinates me, for no good reason except that I have a strong opinion on the topic.
Here’s the thing: I love fireworks. I love TV. (Sad, but true.) So, you would think that combining two of my favorite things would make a new thing that I would like even better. Not so much.
I recently read the Journal/Sentinel editorials and both are interesting and at opposite sides of the debate
Most agree on effect
Happy Independence Day—whatever that means to you. Because when it comes to history, there’s what we know to be true, what we think to be true, and what we or someone else has invented to support what we wish to be true.
It’s not perfect, but I think Summerfest is one of the very best tourist draws to our city. Based on the amount of Cubs and Bears apparel I saw wandering the grounds, lots of folks agree. I have always been a huge fan of Summerfest. Growing up in and around Chicago, Summerfest was one of my first introductions to the city of Milwaukee. After moving here, I fondly remember being pregnant and sitting on the rickety wooden plank benches of the old main stage watching Stevie Ray Vaughan. I’ve never been one to dance on picnic tables but I’ve almost always enjoyed my ‘Fest experiences.
Here are some of my random Summerfest musings:
Girlfriend and I made the rounds this morning and found this.
It is never a good sign to find a box askew with bird parts on the lid.
I'd bet one of the first thoughts through your head was:
Whoa, Tom! Aren't you getting ahead of yourself?
Wauwatosa's current local paper is WauwatosaNOW and is delivered - free-for-nothing - with your JournalSentinel every Thursday.The on-line edition is pretty cool. Moreover, it features the most talented collection of Community Voices - of ANY of the MyCommunityNOW.com web pages. (Tosa rules - everyone else drools)
As I began writing this, I was on hold for 25 minutes with Time Warner. The irony is that I was calling about my high-speed internet service, which doesn’t seem to be very high speed at all.
The replacement tomato plants added following the post-Memorial Day frosts are doing well. We have blossoms and some green tomatoes on the larger plants that survived.
Almost all of the sweet corn, beets, lettuce, cukes, pickles, cantaloupe and green beans had to be replanted following the monsoons. They are behind schedule and making a recovery - some better than others.
I have heard that retirement, like many major changes in life, is tough. One day you’re an important cog in the wheel. The next, you’re spending your mornings at Walgreens waiting for your prescriptions, at a time of day when you used to be in meetings.
My father and my late father-in-law spent decades on their careers. And although their jobs took different paths (my dad in marketing and my father-in-law in medicine), they had one thing in common. They dreaded retirement. How would they define themselves without a job title? They eventually figured it out, but it took years.
I stopped at Stone Creek on Bluemound for a sinful cup of indulgence, at least in this economy. But sometimes you just have to blow a couple bucks, not only for the sacramental beverage of my people, but for the sense of connection.
Sometimes I run into my neighbors the sudoku-mad-pharmacists bent over the paper or absorbed in conversation with each other. I like them very much. We only exchange occasional small talk, but Sheila fills my prescriptions: she knows a lot about me.
I found this in the mailbag today.
I stopped at City Hall on the way to the day job this morning and obtained copies of the latest Mayoral Campaign Finance Reports.
Copying costs were less than the price of a gallon of petrol and you don't even have to make a trip to City Hall.
When you get bad news and the shoulder shrug, well, sure, it’s “the economy.” It's also something more. Barring natural disasters, flood and drought and the like, “just the economy” is often an excuse that lets someone—an individual or a corporate body—off the hook.
Last weekend I set out on an annual summer pilgrimage - my 16th consecutive one - riding the Scenic Shore 150 on behalf of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society of Wisconsin. This is a two-day bike trek from Mequon to Sturgeon Bay that raises funds for blood related cancer research and patient services.
940 riders this year - a far cry from barely a hundred riders at the first event 15 years ago. With a fund-raising goal of $550,000 - there is $525,000 already in the bank and more checks rolling-in daily. These funds stay in Wisconsin.
I've been thinking about my mom a lot lately. It's been almost four months since she died, but I find myself thinking about her more, not less.
If I hadn't been thinking about her, I'd have started when her nursing school graduation picture thudded to the floor from its resting place in the closet. It was night time, and I ran to see what had fallen in my room. And there was Mom, in her white cap, youthful beauty, and steady gaze, looking up at me from the floor outside the closet.
The primary nesting season is coming to a close so Girlfriend and I went for a walk in the meadow with little chance of the dog disrupting any ground nesting birds.
Holy Silphium Perfoliatum Batman!
“This is GREAT. Let’s come here every Wednesday!”
That was an unsolicited pre-review that one of my lunch companions exclaimed when we visited Tosa’s new Le Reve Patisserie & Café the other day. And that was even before we got our food!
The few critics who admit to liking Mamma Mia! the movie—despite their better judgment-- usually try to protect their snark cred. You know the slap-stroke routine: “Clever and well done - in a cringey, cheesey, bizarre way. Now, where did I put my HRT?” (HRT, for those of you who don’t know, is hormone replacement therapy, the bane or blessing of middle aged women.)