girl at large

Been There, Done That

Next year, I might give the kids gifts on Thanksgiving. By that day the kids have outgrown last years jackets and are down to one glove between the two of them.  My resolve to hide their new coats, gloves and hats is gone before the pumpkin pie is.

This morning, Felix was distressed that he couldn’t find his coat. Not in the house, not in the van. He gets so anxious as it is (mornings are tough), I was glad I could be the hero and not just the parental nag for once. Up from the basement I emerged triumphant with the most amazing, most warm and most “cool” new ski jacket. Whew.

Tonight, chit chatting about our day, Felix said he felt guilty about ruining a Christmas surprise with the coat. Then, he explained, after exploring the cool new jacket’s NINE pockets, he felt even worse that he also ruined the “cool ski pass surprise”.

Crap. The ski pass. Felix thought I had gotten him a ski trip to Germany for Christmas.

I didn’t.

What I DID do is get him a second hand ski jacket that has BEEN to Germany.

Bless his heart, he thinks that is EVEN COOLER.

 

We All Have a Strength

Charlie asked me to explain Daylight Savings Time to him on the walk to school today. After fumbling and failing miserably as we walked across the school yard, I said “Shush we’re walking through all the sixth graders and I still have anxiety.”

I then proceeded to explain Anxiety with the knowledge and confidence of a TED speaker.

History zero. Mom one.

 

 

Rebound

I was out at a customer visit this week, the first time in a long time. It’s still awkward, I’m rusty at my in person communication, especially with new clients. Of course some new clients are also rusty with their manners, but that’s another story.

But my selling muscles will return, and now that demand is finally coming back too, the timing of my physical healing couldn’t be better. I am so grateful for that timing. Feeing physically better as the weather warmed up and being able to work as the office world wakes up has been a gift.

Me and Milwaukee are on the rebound. Also, there’s some sort of sports thing going on.

Chemo In The Time of Covid

(This is my favorite photo of exhaustion.)

I’m in the infusion room right now and all the nurses are talking about the next phase decisions coming down from their organization leadership. So far I’ve overheard chat about—-surgery and electives are going to be stopping, procedures that might have been overnight admissions are now only proceeding if the patient can tolerate same day outpatient, they started another tier of hazard pay at +$30/hour, “But what difference does that make if you get quarantined and yeah you made all that extra money but you get back to regular when you’re off and you have all that hassle for your family and get sick yourself”

Etc, etc. It is very different chat than three weeks ago when my chemo nurse freaked me out sharing her unsafe Halloween party plans. Wisconsin is currently exploding; for weeks now we have been one of the six worst states for cases, geographical spread and hospitalizations. Tragically, the death rate will follow the same trend.

Even little things are affected by the recent surge and hospital overload; for example the hospital pharmacy is perpetually backed up. I’m on hour two waiting for my meds that were supposed to start at 10am. And of course Paulie couldn’t even be in the building this time. Previously he could at least be in the waiting area, and he could be in the room at the diagnostic appointments, but no more for any new patients now. Can you imagine getting your disease diagnosis and prognosis news alone?

I’m glad they instituted the changes for safety but for total patient care it fucking sucks. I really feel for anyone needing medical care during this time.

Stay vigilant everyone! I know we are fatigued; its exhausting to maintain a constant Threat Level Ten. Hopefully our new leadership will give us the scientific information, competent pandemic team, and compassionate & coherent speeches we all need to persevere and push through to better days, with more lives saved than lost.

The Sun Shines On Us All

At the beach this evening, resting my sore feet in the cool sand, I could see this scene to my right and to my left. Families, friends, kids, grandparents, daters and skaters and aunties and babies. On the walk down the bluff, I heard three languages. I spotted interracial couples and families, more than one hijab, differently abled folks, seniors, lgbtq folks, and even a lone hold out cigarette smoker. Clumps of families in every conceivable configuration dotted the beach. Hand holders, shouters and strollers shared the boardwalk. 

When the world seems upside down, when the newsfeed is unbearable, when the political divisions feel like looming civil war, remind me to go to the beach. To the beach where everyone is bonded,  where the array of humanity is beautifully broad, where everyone is there to capture the same thing—good selfie light.

All Politics Is Local. Also, the Universe doesn't care.

On Tuesday night, I refreshed my screen a hundred times, waiting for the local election results. More than ever before,  I really cared who was elected to the Village Board. Shorewood has had a lot of development in the last five years (and by a lot I mean an eight story apartment building, a parking garage, a two city block Metro Mart complex with another parking garage and then right next to that another six story apartment block--all visible from my front porch. Oh, and the cute church on my very corner got torn down for a bank-from-a-box currently under construction). I love the walkability of our neighborhood, it's literally why I moved here, but a lot of how the most recent development was done is more than the little village could handle. I'm still learning, still catching up on board meeting videos, but my understanding is that there is wide spread discontent regarding these issues: 

1) Not enough community involvement in scale, design and use decisions (i.e. That enormous building is ugly as shit).

2) Inadequate planning for traffic changes; to date there is still no village wide traffic study.

3) Inequitable facade improvement grants up to $200k from a program that was supposed to support older buildings and local business at the $10k level.

4) Over use of TIF (Tax Incremental Finding) to "get" development deals instead of letting the market dictate.

5) And of course, our taxes keep going up.

So, it's ripe for political change. The previous VB President is retiring, and two Trustee seats were up for reelection. Apparently, (and I'm only up to speed on a few Facebook group and online forum gossip mill posts), there has been a lot of discord, infighting, and trash talking between the old guard (those who created, financed, and approved the questionable developments) and the new guard (two women Trustees who surprised everyone by unseating incumbents in the last election cycles). So, that's the set up.

It made for a very exciting few weeks in this little hamlet! The Milwaukee County Executive even weighed in on our little race (with his private money) by endorsing some candidates as part of an expensive, glossy yet vague big-money political action group ad campaign. Yard signs were stolen, previous VB Presidents allegedly banned from Facebook pages, gossipy smear letters annonymously mailed to citizens...politics really brings out the best in people.

I was really hoping for change, for my three picks to win. Allison Rozek for VB President, Jessica Carpenter for Trustee and Davida Amenta for Trustee (2 trustee spots were open, and Davida was seeking reelection, Allison was a sitting Trustee running for the President spot).

At 9pm, the local news site said my gals had lost, with 100% precincts reporting. I was dumbstruck. I knew Allison was a fifty fifty chance, Jessica was safe with a second place showing, but Davida got bumped to third which meant she lost her seat. That was the worse case scenerio--if Allison had lost she would still retain her Trustee seat, but without Davida on the board her coalition for change was weakened. Davida losing was really crushing, I believed her seat was safe. But it was not to be, I was gutted.

So, I tossed and turned all night..I made mental plans for a get out the vote campaign, I was rearranging my schedule to attend every village board meeting, writing my Concerned Citizen statements, grinding my teeth...

In the morning, I checked the Facebook to read their statements. Stunning reversal! THEY DID WIN! All three of my picks WON! Turns out the local site had it wrong, Allison won by 103 votes, Jessica took the first trustee spot handily with the most votes, and Davida retained her seat with a squeaky but safe margin.

I cried. I actually cried. Now, they may all make mistakes and we may find that all the decisions the previous board made were on the up and up, but most important to me is that now we will KNOW what is going on. This new group has promised to change the way the government communicates with and involves the residents, they have promised transparency and accountability. They better deliver, because my heart can't take it!

It was an amazing morning, it felt so fantastic to get a win. There's nothing we can't do! March! Vote! Fund raise! Change is coming! The future is female! What a day!

And then I put my car in a ditch. So, thanks Universe, for the reminder.

 

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Don't Get Me Started

I made the mistake of getting engaged with the local Village Board election coming up in April.

Paulie hasn't had the chance to attend a forum or read much, so I keep him informed.

This morning was all about the TIFs, the lack of bidding out professional services, and the issues that never even got on the board agenda. One of the candidates for Village President said "I don't set the agenda, YOU set the agenda" to the forum crowd. Um, yes, actually the bylaws state that the Village President DOES indeed have sole authority to set the agenda as well as to select committee members. So, 1) misleading and pandering B) didn't answer the question which was what is your method for setting the agenda. Paulie wasn't there, so I played it out for him, word for word. Quite a lot of the forum got repeated for his benefit come to think of it.

We covered all three candidates for the two Trustee positions, and the two candidates for Village President. Experience, qualifications, positions, and of course detailed analysis of their replies to my email questions. Then there's understanding the complicated Tax Incremental Funding and the relationship between the Board and the Communitiy Development Authority and that big money transfer made this year instead of closing one of the TIFs early, and did you know they DON'T GET COMPETING BIDS for professional services? And that they don't have CONTRACTS? And there wasn't a look back clause with the developemer that got the $5 million GRANT and then flipped the entire project in 10 months for $20 million profit? And so on...

Paulie, from the shower: "Honey, why don't you just go ahead and run so I can get ready in peace some day."

 

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Monumental Decisions

I was not made for home ownership. I prefer to move every two years or so, changing my view of the town I live in, if not the town itself, downgrading or upgrading as needed. Despite my love of architecture and design, I have never wanted to OWN architecture. Like my love of hotels, I prefer both a less permanent and more luxurious arrangement.

 

Paulie was born to own. He was literally born two blocks from where he is currently snoring. In our marital compromise, and also in a new-baby, got kicked-out-of-our-rental haze, we bought. We got lucky; in winter and the bottom of the market, we scored a solid structure in the neighborhood we love and now today could no longer afford. (Don't get me started on the unfairness of the real estate market and how young families, seniors and modest income folks are getting priced out of our village because the recent condo developments and duplex conversion programs favor the wealthy).

 

We did not purchase, as I originally suggested, two adjacent one-bedroom his-and-hers modern apartments. We got a classic bungalow instead, complete with crumbling plaster walls, ancient plumbing, and...original woodwork.

 

In the four and half years since, I have tossed and turned and wrung my hands about one particularly thorny issue. An issue many homeowners, HGTV watchers and renovators have passionately debated for decades.There are sides.There are camps. There are blogs and articles and curses if you do, curses if you don't. Only politics is currently more divided.

 

To paint the woodwork or not paint the woodwork?

 

Finally, I decided. I chose a camp. I chose Paint. The picture rail, door frames and baseboards all got painted a smooth, clean and lovely off-white. The wood doors, windows, and dining room arch columns will remain unpainted (and filthy until the budget and time allows for stripping and refinishing).

 

And you know what? No one cared. No woodwork police arrived. Because it's my house, and god damn I can do what I want. Which is exactly what I said to myself when the property tax bill came last week, interestingly just moments before I said screw it and called the painter.

 

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Mutually Exclusive

  

I was called a Hipster today. I also recieved my Shorewood property tax bill today.

Perhaps the new Milwaukee Hipster wears long johns, has a house that always smells faintly of pee, and is thrilled to get a new iron for Christmas.

Game Face

Paulie: "You know that there are at least a dozen full grown women in Wisconsin wearing that exact same outfit today. In the same size!"

Spring At Last, Already?

We will be getting the Tin Can Cottage ready for use soon. The benches and cushions are ready, the station wagon is full of supplies.The winter was long and cruel, but somehow I'm still not ready for spring yet...my trailer "to do" lists are too long.

I'm looking forward to it, but I have reservations this season...it still needs so much work, and we never seem to do anything but work. I want to keep the projects to a reasonable level this summer so we can get some rest and enjoy this time with Viv, not to mention each other.

I'm also nervous about the logistics of Toddlerhood at the trailer. I fear frustration will set in if we try to accomplish even the simplest of projects with Viv in tow. She won't sit nicely in a bucket while we paint or scrub aluminum or repair plumbing...this year, she will be right in the mess.

If it weren't for Dad and Molly, the biggest improvement in the trailer this year would never have happened --new dining benches (and subsequent bed). Thank goodness for all the help, we need it!

 

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The Organic Generation

At the Domes for the winter farmers market today...apparently you HAVE to have a baby to get in!

Free range coffee, twenty dollar chicken, cruelty-free cookies, stroller envy, gender neutral names, ironic onesies, smart phones taking pictures of other smart phones... the place was packed, bumper to bumper strollers...I had no idea there were so many mini-hipsters in town!

Dreaming of Spring

The new dinette benches for the trailer are almost done! I can't believe what an amazing job Dad did recreating them from the crumbled, rotting mess that we had to work from as a template.

Now I need to order the table top to go with them, just have to work out the support mechanism (it will convert from table and benches to bed). Can't wait to have morning coffee in the trailer. Viv will have a cozy place to sleep, and all the mechanicals previously (and dangerously) exposed will be nicely concealed.

Now, if only Spring will come...

 

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Life is Unfair.

" Friday's shootings bring the total in the last week to 26. Eight people have been killed in those shootings."

That's just one week. In my town. In Milwaukee. Not Syria, not Afghanistan. I'm so frustrated and sad and feel helpless to do anything about it. We are slaughtering our own, letting our neighbors and fellow Americans get injured and killed. As if poverty and segregation and humiliation wasn't enough. And as long as we (by we I mean white, privileged, educated, wealthy, ---pretty much every single person I know) can distance ourselves with excuses and gated neighborhoods from the poor, the left behind and the institutionally enslaved (incarcerated), it will continue.

It's so dishearteneing to hear complaints about workers fighting for a better minimum wage--"I had to work hard for only so much, they should too". I hear so many ways that we justify poverty; justify our Having and their Suffering. I've heard immigrants disparage other immigrant populations. I hear elderly folks and veterans cling to their social benefits, but deny others even the basic entry to schools. I hear young people bemoan their student loan debt (I don't disagree), and in the next breathe say that fast food workers only make so little because they are uneducated and it's their own fault. We can only measure our success as a community by how we care for the least among us.

Some days, though I am a dedicated atheist, I feel like a lonely Christian.

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Summer Suffering in Shorewood

Paul was out of town for work all week, leaving me alone with baby. He worried if I'd be able to manage on my own, I worried if four days would be enough alone time for me!

It was so pleasant to get ready in the morning without tripping over each other. The nights, however, were another story. A heat wave is not kind to 90 year old bungalows without air conditioning. We had installed one tiny window unit it in the hallway, in the only window large enough for an air conditioner, as far away from the only usable bedroom as possible. But it's two BTU's struggled to keep the attic rooms below 85 degrees.

Viv didn't complain, but she was a sweaty miserable little thing. The worst was the heat rash from the car seat straps. Because, like everything in our lives right now, the car too is in need of repair. The A/C is out in the only car that the car seat fits in. We raced to daycare each morning as early as possible, and after work I took whatever circuitous route home that would keep the car in motion, hoping the bit of wind might keep us both from frying. The only hotter and more uncomfortable I've ever been was during the deadly heat wave in the south of France in 2003.

The day Paul returned, he suffered through only one sweaty night before figuring out how to rip out a window sash to move the air conditioner in the bedroom. That same day, the weather broke with a cool breeze temps in the low seventies. Of course it did.

 

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Feeling at Home

We walked to the coffee shop this morning, sat outside and watched the neighbors go by in the sunshine. Then we walked to Atwater beach, pushing the stroller all the way down the new slopping walk way to the water. It was a shame that the water quality level was "Red" (e-coli levels too high); Nevaeh really wanted to dip her toes in the waves. After some testing of the new beach-level playground equipment, we made our way back up the cliff and down the street to City Market for lunch. Nevaeh loves City Market. Of all the things we do together, that is her most frequent request. Then, we had an easy stroll past Viv's future grade school back to the house. I love our walking neighborhood--it's the reason I moved to this particular area when I came to Milwaukee four years ago. I can't believe I own a house here now. Still coming to terms with the bungalow style, but I'm warming up to it, especially the front sunroom.

 

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Home Is Where The Hammer Is

I'm sitting in a folding camp chair in my empty dining room.

Eight years ago, I was doing the same thing. In Portland, in a tiny one bedroom apartment that had once been a Stumptown brothel. Now, it's MY dining room. As in MY mortgage. And it's in Milwaukee. Ok, Shorewood if you want to be a stickler.

I walked to get a cup of coffee this morning---out my front door and down just one sunny block to the coffee shop. I love this neighborhood. Like all my favorites before (Monroe St Madison, Historic Savannah, NorthWest Portland), it's lively without being loud, warm and walkable. The gourmet grocery, coffee shop, and pharmacy are all within a comfortable strolling distance.

It's a great house. Not the house I was looking for, or the house I dreamt of, it wasn't even on my radar. It's not the modern glass box I've always wanted, it's not even the retro ranch that would have been fun to make mine. It's everything I said I didn't want---"traditional", a detached garage, two stories, no space for a studio/shop, and so on. I had looked at so many houses that were perfect on paper (sound familiar?) but fell flat in person. Many were foreclosure nightmares---frozen pipes, bombed out kitchens, water damaged walls. Others weren't architecturally interesting enough to overcome location problems like train tracks in the back yard or suburban isolation.

But Kenmore Place has the things I didn't realize were so important until I walked in (and said to myself--"Finally, a real house!")---warmth and quality. That's Quality with a capital Q. The original construction is solid, and so immediately apparent. The woodwork, the windows, the dry solid basement walls, the coved ceilings. What's the point of renovating things that weren't good construction to begin with? That's not renovation, that's replacement. This little tank of a house will be a joy to bring back to life.

Which brings me to the next topic...all the work to be done! Stay tuned for many renovation updates as we dig into the giant project that will no doubt occupy our next decade.

 

 

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Count Down

Less than a week now until we close on Kenmore Place. Every piece of paper has been signed, every document copied, all our accounts verified. The numbers are frightening---does anyone really look at the final number they will pay for a house after 30 years? Even at 3.875%? And that doesn't even touch the cost of insurance, taxes, maintainance, repairs and emergency funds. Add renovations to that and the idea that a house is an "investment" is nuts.

It is, I will accept, an "investment" in lifestyle. In community, in family, in comfort. And in activity--Paulie and I listed 10 years of projects in just ten minutes of "what if we did..." discussion. We will never again be without something to do on nights and weekends.

 

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Home Sweet...Holy Crap We Have A Lot To Do

 

Three weeks to go until we close on the house on Kenmore Place. We went through for the third time today, to take key measurements and see for ourselves with clear minds what we have committed ourselves to. It needs work. Lots of work. Lots more work than I recalled. After inspecting crawl spaces in need of insulation, opening non-motorized barn door garage doors, counting more than 30 painted-over light switches and outlets, seeing at least 7 different trim treatments (dark finish, light finish, no finish, grey paint, mauve paint, white glossy paint, white flat paint), eyeing a dozen light fixtures in need of changing and more...I'm already tired. But my beloved, bless his heart, is already drawing up the plans on his computer as I write.

You know what we need? We need to buy a boat. An old, waterlogged boat that we can fix up. And we should get another dog. Or two! Because we need more to do. Ah, being project people. Vinnie, you'll be swinging a hammer before you walk my darling. And come to think of it, you may learn to walk gingerly...there's carpet to tear out, mind the tacks!

 

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Home Sweet ...What Did You Say?

The call came in. The counter offer is a good one, well within our budget. Paul asks me, "What do you think? Do you want it?"

I reply, with what I think is a romantic meaningful look, happy tears in my eyes: "It's not what I thought I wanted, but then again, neither were you."

I have no idea why he stays with me. But now I know we'll be staying in a house we own together!

 

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Searching

House hunting in winter sucks. Our budget means a fixer upper, which we love, but come on! It has to be at least mostly structurally sound. Milwaukee has some ugly, ugly housing stock right now.

According to the listings, the highlight of the Wisconsin home apparently is the basement bar.

I am determined not to buy a house by the pound-- bigger is not always better, especially when it comes to Midwestern heating bills and renovations. I'd rather have a little gem that I can afford to fix up now with the best materials rather than in ten years and too cheaply. I miss the days of being able to vacuum my whole apartment without ever changing outlets. I don't want to own and maintain rooms we never use.

But every house we have seen, regardless of size, has been a trashed mess. Do people really live like this? Is this really all you get for your money?

My dreams of something "cool" with "potential" are fading. At this point, I'd settle for "not gross".

The Meat Sweats

I took Paul up to Cedar Lodge for dinner with Dad last night. I had already explained the fritter appetizer, but I neglected to warn him of the post-dinner meat sweats.

Sometimes It Is The Destination

I'm returning to the Deluxe Hotel in Portland, Oregon tonight for my friend Meg's wedding.

I stayed at the Deluxe my very last night in Portland, two years ago.
I had packed up the house, the truck had left, the apartment was empty
but it was too late and I was too tired to start the drive. So I
treated myself to one last night in my favorite place. They allow dogs
too so Miss Ruby was all cuddled up in the down comforter right away.
I sent out messages to my friends that I would be at the Driftwood
Lounge in the lobby for one last beverage. I expected maybe one or two
to come. They ALL came. It was a lovely night. Meg walked me up to my
room for one last Ruby kiss, then teared up when she said goodbye to
me----she's a tough cookie, not a crier. I will always remember how
touched I was.

I was excited to be moving on, but sad to have failed at yet another
business, another town. I was sad to leave the best, most "Kate"
apartment I'd ever had. I was happy to be returning to family, but
questioning whether I could really stand all the "Wisconsin" things
that I don't like about Wisconsin. I had hopes that I'd be able to
make my dream come true by compromising on the job (it was most
definitely not my dream job) and moving close to family who could
support me. I was planning on having a family someway, some
how---probably on my own. That would never be possible in pdx, so
there I was on my way back to moo town. But that was a stretch too,
the only thing I really knew was that there was no future for me in
Portland. And I wanted to be home.

I had a ten day drive adventure ahead of me, then a whole new life
with a new job I had no idea how to do, a new town I didn't know. I
had no idea what was waiting for me at my destination.

Turns out it was everything I could have ever wished for. And then some. I am a lucky, lucky girl.

Fruit or Fritter?

I dropped in at Dad's on the way back from a last-minute work appointment in Menasha earlier this week. My timing was excellent---they were going to have dinner at Cedar Lodge.

Cedar Lodge does what it does very well. Which is to say, it stuffs you to the gills with red meat and ridiculous extras while it wraps you in cedar-paneled Midwestern warmth. Ordering takes awhile.

Fruit or Fritter?

Lettuce Salad or Cottage Cheese?

Lettuce Salad---House, Ceasar or Bacon Spinach?

French Onion or cold Strawberry soup?

Potato, Rice or Vegetable? 

Potato---Baked, Mashed, Hash Browns or American Fries?

Baked Potato---once or twice?

It was the longest conversation I've ever had that started with "I'll have the tuna". 

Sniff of Spring

It is very satisfying to shovel out my front walk; clearing away the 8" of compacted snow and ice that is at last melting into manageable chunks in today's sunny spring tease. It is back-breaking to do it with a trunk-sized emergency car shovel.

I should get a proper shovel, but I refuse. I'm a renter for a reason! I refuse to let this lazy landlord win!

Unexcused Summer Absences

Wow...I had an eventful, lovely summer, but didn't blog from mid-July through mid-September. Perhaps I wasn't blogging because I was out living. Or perhaps it was because I couldn't find my computer under Mom's crumpled Kleenex's. Either way, it's high time to catch up...

...huh, all my funny summer stories escape me at the moment. 

Family Shit or My Brother Rocks

He's so frickin' funny, he works like a dog and says it like it is. 

The older we get, the more I get to know him, the more I regret not being around more when he was younger. I imagine he had a particularly rough time of it, all alone really when the shit storm hit. 

It's strange and wonderful to see all of us on the other side, hopeful and communicating and enjoying each other when we can, usually in Dad's barn. There's nothing like a manure pile to bring family together.

Blue Morning

 

Lake Michigan early this morning

Sunday Sunshine

 
  

Today's high: Still Cold as Shit

You know it's cold out when the poop bag in your pocket is welcome warmth...

Nothing really ever changes from the 7th grade.

do I email him? do I call him? do I email him? do I call him? has he googled me? do I call him? will he call me? what does he see if he googles me? ok, googled him. do I call him? do I text him? when is he going to call me? call me! call me! call me!

dear lord, this is why I shouldn't even bother.

Warming Up to Winter

The sky this morning is crystal blue, the brittle branches are quite beautiful against it, the snow in the yards lays thick like buttercream frosting, and the dog hops through it like it was put there just for her pleasure. Oh, and potatoes never tasted so good. 

I might just be ok with winter, this year anyway.

While The Getting Is Good

It's a gorgeous, sunny day in November. I'm not going to update here, I'm going out there...see ya!

"Sometimes you just need a Pat."

When Mom leaves for Door County on Tuesday, I'll miss her way with words. My favorites from this summer include: the "un-empty cup of coffee" (bottomless cup of coffee) "crudiments" (accoutrements) being "kerflexed" (combo of kerfuffled and perplexed) "that microwave guy" (Paul Allen)

Storm Warning

Even if the bedroom window had not been open, the thunderstorm earlier this week would have woken me. It was a huge, booming monster of a storm--at one point, the thunder following the lightning by only one second--it was right above the house. I was dreaming when it began, and as the windows rattled from the wind, the storm became intertwined in my dream. As did Buncle Tom's midget story told the previous afternoon. Correction: Buncle Tom's FAMOUS midget story. The story is not famous, the midget was. Back to my story: in my waking and yet still dreaming mind, the storm was Dorothy's tornado, whirling with Oz characters including aforementioned midget, all wielding menacing commercial table legs.

What Part of Wisconsin Are You From?

We had dinner at Fond du Lac's The Sunset Supper Club on Friday night, it was the classic small town Wisconsin evening out. The only way to describe it is to transcribe the ordering conversation: "I'll have the petite filet please". "How would you like that?" "Medium Rare" "Baked Potato, Hash Browns, or Cole Slaw"? "Baked Potato". "House Salad or Cottage Cheese?" "Salad" (with Blue Cheese House Dressing) "Clam Chowder or Tomato Juice"? This is where I lost it...but I had to control myself, not make too much fun and 'when in Rome' the situation. Dad, as he always had in the past, enjoyed my Tomato Juice.

Lenny and Squiggy Live Here

My social calendar has been so full lately that I haven't had much of a chance to explore the town that is Milwaukee. But I will share with you a few of the pleasant places I've enjoyed so far: Once a week, I get to have a treat of a lunch from Larry's Market. Yum. When I need an antique store fix, it's off to three floors of bliss at Blackhawk Antiques Market. For a lovely walk to the lake front, I head down Capitol Drive to Atwater Park and Beach. If I can manage a trek, it's in Estebrook Park. Milwaukee is full of summer festivals, including SummerFest itself, the biggest music festival on the planet. I hope to make it to a few of the summer time Wisconsin events, and to start, I'm off to Walleye Weekend in Fond du Lac next Saturday. Watch for posting of giant fish.

You're Not In Portland Anymore.

I miss Dr. Peter. He was my chiropractor in Portland. Twinkly music, aromatic candles, charming art collection on the walls, gentle speaking voice--the whole stereotypical package, including a tender "you just rest here with this wheat husk pillow under your neck listening to the twinkly music for as long as you like" after he was done doing the cranking and cracking. At first I was highly skeptical, but there's no bigger devotee than a convert. I quickly grew to adore Dr. Peter and all the feel good hockas pockas he stood for. In contrast, Dr. E, my new chiropractor here in no-nonsense Milwaukee is 90% cheaper, and 100% different. No aromatherapy (in fact, what is that funky smell? how old is this carpet?), no twinkly music, and you're in and out of that basement office in 10 minutes flat. He's very old-school, and very skilled--he spent most of his highly-focused energy on my shoulder, and it worked. But a gentle touch, he is not. He's either a brilliant therapist or a retired John Deere mechanic.

What Have I Done?

Some days, there's just no escaping the feeling that I've made a huge mistake.

Weather Is Our April Fools

This was the snow storm last weekend, and we're due for another tomorrow. Ah, April in the midwest!

Morning in Milwaukee

The sunrise in Milwaukee, over Lake Michigan. My drive into work is very pretty, along Lake Drive (the north shore villages of Shorewood, Whitefish Bay and Bayside), with glimpses of the lake past the big old houses. I get a chance to enjoy the view when I'm waiting for kids to board the school bus. Ah, suburban life! And yes, I was up and on my way to work at that ungodly hour.

Familiar Territory

I went to a tavern tonight. Yes, they call them "taverns". Good times, brought back memories.

Wisconsin: It's Not So Bad

That's this year's motto. So far, in the "Not So Bad" column, mostly food: -Sendik's -the Butter Burger at Culver's -Frozen Custard (take your pick--Kopps, Michael's, or Gilles) -Milwaukee Art Museum -the Lakefront -Leinenkugel's

It's In The Water, Or Maybe In The Corn.

Just a few of the little niceties I'd been missing, so common in the midwest: -grocery baggers -eye contact -getting approached by helpful staff in a big box store -brown people in the suburbs -vestibules -street lamps -paying AFTER you pump (this was only in Nebraska and Kansas, but it was so pleasant to be trusted) -a real person answering the phone -describing how far away something is by travel time -ordering a beer at lunch -folks wearing proper shoes I do miss a few things about the Northwest: -really good coffee -the mountains (the pointy one, the not-so-pointy one and the more white than the others one) -other people with dogs -the green landscape, even in midwinter -marionberry muffins -narrow and hilly streets (Milwaukee, especially here in the burbs is flat and wiiiiiiiide) -sushi And I will always miss a few things about the South: -being called "Miss Kate" and "M'am" with out it being an age thing -"good morning"s and "good evening"s when out walking -the squares -spanish moss -cheap cocktails -locally esteemed wierdos

Settling In

I still have six boxes to go, and lots and lots of fixin' up projects, but it's starting to look like a home.

The Paramount

My new apartment at The Paramount, before I moved in. It's HUGE---1400 square feet! It has three bedrooms, but one of those is really an extra living room/den that I'll be using as an office/studio. It has a freakish number of closets--three large ones in the hallway alone. The second bedroom (and second bathroom!) is for GUESTS--anyone want to visit the charming metropolis on the lake that is Milwaukee? The Paramount was built in the 60's, and has that clean mid-century look I like. But it needs a bit of love---I've already repainted the bathroom cabinet, scrubbed the kitchen, and am up to my eyeballs in contact paper. It's going to be weeks and weeks of projects to get totally settled in, but I have weeks and weeks of still frigid weather ahead in which to get it done.

Cheese Head Travels Home

All Packed Up, Mount Shasta California, The Grand Canyon, Big as Texas, Grandpa Bunny

Thanks For The Help

Ruby takes a break from packing.

Ticking Off

It doesn't interest anyone else, but I'm a list person and an "achiever", so I feel better (literally physically better) when I can mark things off my to-do list: Yesterday and today were "Technology" and "Tune Up" days respectively. I picked up a cheap-o cell phone for the road trip in case of emergency. Don't everyone get all excited that they'll now be able to reach me on my cell phone! I'll be lucky if the little piece of plastic lasts through the road trip. Though I will have to have a Blackberry for the new job, so my time of living Cell Phone Free is certainly coming to an end. I also finally pulled the trigger on a Garmin Nuvi navigation system. I am IN LOVE. This little device with the pleasant voice and confident directions was MADE for people like me. In just two days, I've already tooled around more of Portland than I have in the past four years. I'm a confident driver, but unless the destination is off a flat, corn-lined highway, I can't find my way out of a paperbag. What was I waiting for, why didn't I get one of these gadgets sooner? The little Jetta made it through her 50k tune up this morning, fairing much better than I feared. A new oil pan, tire rotation, the usual adjustments, a new headlight, and a repaired Cruise Control---and now I'm road ready. For an upgrade from the previous ghetto look, I also opted to replace the missing hubcap. So sexy. For being a good girl, I treated her to a wash on the way home. The car insurance is up to date, I've updated my AAA membership and downloaded a list of must-stop roadside eateries from RoadFood. I am good to go! Tomorrow is "Dealing with the City" (moving truck parking permits) and "Awkwardly Saying Goodbye to Co-workers I'm Not Going to Miss" Day. Tick! Tick!

Equipment

I got my snow boots today. They are hideous, so of course they are warm, supportive and incredibly comfortable.