West Side Stories

Man, what a bummer. We Wisconsinites have just experienced the ultimate trifecta of sports downers – losses by the Badgers, Packers and, of course, the playoff loss by the Brewers. And, to add insult to injury, our local marathon was won by a guy from Illinois. Nothing like kicking us while we’re down.

Here in our household, we had the good (or bad) fortune to experience two of these maudlin moments – I was at the Brewer game Sunday with a friend and my husband was at the Packer game. Thanks to the wonders of text messaging, we were able to have a digital conversation that went something like this:

Me: Suppan just gave up a three-run homer in the third.

Him: The Packers can’t stop the Falcons.

Me: We’re losing 5-0.

Him: We’re losing 27-17.

Me:  It’s over here.

Him: Done here too.

Sigh. No joy in Mudville…or Milwaukee or Green Bay or Madison.

But I hate being a glass half-empty kind of girl. I need a positive thought or two upon which I can hang my hat. So here goes. My feeble attempt to blow sunshine into a room out of which all the happiness has been removed. My top ten reasons to still be happy about Wisconsin sports:

10. Ryan Braun is signed to a long-term contract.

9. The Bucks are still undefeated.

8. 186 Days till Opening Day.

7. The Brewers open at home against the Cubs, meaning there’s a good chance that for once, Miller Park will not be “Wrigley North.”

6. If you don’t have season tickets, this is an excellent time to get seats at a Packer game.

5. We won’t have that dilemma about whether to watch playoff baseball or our favorite TV shows.

4. Unlike other states, our legislators aren’t arguing the pros and cons of building a new stadium. Oh wait. I forgot about the Bradley Center.

3. It would be a stretch, but the Packers could still match last season’s record.

2. There’s no wait for tables at TGI Friday’s at Miller Park.

1. The Brewers won one more playoff games than the Cubs who were SWEPT. Ahhh….

What about you? What are you looking forward to in local sports?

Last night, while watching season premieres of some of my favorite shows (The Office, Survivor, Ugly Betty and Grey’s Anatomy*), I was alerted to the fact that I missed a national faux holiday. I didn’t realize it, but this week is “National Stay At Home Week.” I just hope the selection at our local Hallmark store isn’t totally picked over.

Apparently, the television powers-that-be have decided that since there isn’t a strike looming large, we should all hunker down with our trans-fats and our remotes, pull up a big couch and do nothing but watch the premieres of their TV shows.

Hmmm…nice try guys, but there are two problems with that concept:  First, here in the Milwaukee area, we are currently in the middle of a seemingly perfect storm – that is, a roller coaster Brewers’ Wild Card race coupled with some of the most beautiful weather of the year. Stay at home? Well, only to watch the Brewers! Secondly, hello….can you say “DVR?” We time-shifting experts have no need for staying at home. We can have our premieres and our social lives!

Look, there will be plenty of opportunity for staying at home. It’s called February. That’s when we need premieres and comfort food and elastic waistbands. We’ll be there for them then. Now, well…we’ll be there, but on our terms and on our clock.

*If, like me, you’re addicted to Grey’s Anatomy and wish to receive my weekly Grey’s Recap e-mails, send me your e-mail address and I’ll add you to my list. It’s fun, it’s snarky and, best of all, it’s FREE! (Or should I say “McFree?”)

Sometimes I’m asked why I blog. (Most other times, people don’t really want to know and I’m looked at with a mixture of scorn and pity as if I just admitted that I collect dead bugs.)

Well, the answer, for me, is that I blog because deep inside, I’m still an adolescent. I’m still that awkward, chubby girl with bad skin, sitting in my bedroom, listening to Elton John and writing madly in my diary. For me, writing has always been the only way to explain what was going on in my head. But that’s only half of it.

I also blog because, if I’m lucky, once a year, somebody will come up to me in the grocery store or at the car wash, and say: “I like what you wrote. You get it.” To me, a simple comment like that makes me walk on air for a week. And it helps me forget when my dad asks me about “that thing you’re doing for free…your…what do you call it – glog?!”

We bloggers are certainly not doing it for the money, because, there is none. And although some bloggers out there on the internet are paid, I have neither the knowledge nor the wherewithal to figure out how to make that happen. Besides, the 10 or 20 Wauwatosa people that stumble on my blog are a decent audience. Heck, that’s a good-sized crowd for Thanksgiving, so who am I to complain?

This week, about 30 of us blogging types gathered at the Journal Sentinel offices. We came from all corners of the metro-Milwaukee area. We all have different reasons to blog and different ways of going about it. Some want to effect change in their communities.  Others, like me, just have the writing bug and wouldn’t mind adding a touch of humor or interest to somebody’s day.

On hand to cheer us on were “the bigs” from the Journal Sentinel: President and Publisher, Betsy Brenner, Sr. VP/Editor Marty Kaiser and Sr. VP/Interactive Media and Audience Development Sharon Prill. They told us that we were “the future” of what’s going on in journalism (Ray Py will love hearing that) and that they were working hard to stay on top of current and emerging trends. We even got a sneak peek at some new website technology that will affect us all, hopefully, in a positive way.

We were given ample opportunity to ask anything we wanted about the Journal Sentinel. The one question that I had, and was asked by someone else, was about the future of the Journal Sentinel. Brenner and Kaiser answered deftly, albeit also vaguely, basically explaining that recent changes made were based on market conditions and information that was available more readily and more up-to-date elsewhere (such as stock quotes). It’s an uphill battle. Sadly (a self-defeating statement coming from a blogger), more and more people are getting their news from the internet. The Journal Sentinel is working hard to get a piece of that action, but I can’t help but be concerned about the future of my favorite early morning routine – reading the local paper. Unfortunately, there are fewer and fewer of us reading the Journal Sentinel every day. Sigh.

I guess what I’m saying is three-fold: First, if you read my blog or other blogs, thanks. It means a lot. Second, be sure to share your thoughts, either through comments or e-mails. We don’t get paid, but feedback is awesome payback. Third, if you love reading the paper, subscribe to it, talk about it, buy it and talk about it some more. It won’t survive if readership dwindles. If you don’t like what you read, tell them about it. They welcome any and all comments.

We just returned from a brief vacation to the land where Brett now rules the land. Yes, New York City is quite bedazzled by Broadway Brett…at least until he throws that first interception. Then we’ll see if those jersey sales slow down a bit.

Anyway, the one thing that I notice more often when I travel are cell phones and how deeply imbedded they are in our culture. Everywhere you go people are firmly attached to their cell phones. I know. Kind of a “duh” statement but still sort of chilling. No doubt about it, we are in touch, everywhere, no matter where we go.

(Oh and don’t forget that Brett and his cell phone were all a big part of Favre-gate, so at least he’s got that signal down.)

When we used to go on trips, and I’d see something that I think would interest my kids, I’d make a mental note of it and tell them when we got home. Or if I was really prepared, I’d take a photo and later share the accompanying story. Now, I take a photo and send a “pix” message. (And trust me – I do not have a fancy cell phone at all.) Sort of like carrying my kids in my pocket for the trip – very little cost and less attitude.

When we accidentally ran smack-dab into Mercedez Benz Fashion Week, I knew my 16-year old daughter would be jealous but would definitely want to share in the experience. So I snapped cell phone pix and sent them to her. Suddenly, my messages were slightly more cool and less annoying than the week before.

One thing that puzzles me about cell phones are those Bluetooth headset things that people wear around. I think they’re great for people that are driving. Very convenient and slightly more safe than the hands-on option. What I don’t get, however, are the people that use headsets when they’re NOT driving…or doing anything else. Suddenly the weight of a cell phone is more than they can bear? Or, that Bluetooth hanging on your ear is the next big thing in fashion? I don’t think so.

And no discussion of cell phones would be complete without mentioning etiquette. We are definitely still writing those rules. What we should and shouldn’t do with our cell phones. During movies? Bad. On the street? Apparently OK because EVERYONE is doing it….everywhere. We’re texting, we’re checking e-mail. And, as a result, we’re oblivious to our surroundings.

That brings us to the topic of loud cell phone conversations. Here’s my proposal: If you are talking on a cell phone in public, loudly and in front of others, your conversation is everyone’s business. In other words, we get to participate.

For instance, in the airport, I heard one woman talking about how she and her husband were bidding on a house but they and the seller were $9,000 apart on a price. Since she was speaking so loudly that all of us at Gate B3 could hear her, I think we were entitled to say things like: “Girl! You stick to your guns. The market’s bad, honey. Lowball it. You can’t lose!” What? That’s rude but her talking loudly isn’t? I don’t know. Seems fair (and fun) to me!

We could have a slogan for this new rule: “Your loud chat is everyone’s business!” Or, “Go ahead and talk loud. I can’t wait to hear more!” Or “Speak up! Those of us on the other side of the city can’t hear you!” Just imagine the possibilities.

Like many Tosa homeowners, I have several of these on the sidewalk outside my house:

I have had these X's for several weeks. Neither my neighbors nor I are sure what they mean. I think I know, but here is my mailbox:

As you can see, my mailbox is empty. The city has yet to send me anything to tell me what these X's mean. Unfortunately, I think it means something that will cost me money. Upon a quick search on the city's website, I found this item. However, it's pretty old.

So, do you have these same pretty X's in front of your house? Has anybody told you what they mean?

I’m not usually one to stand out in a crowd. Although I enjoy attention, I don’t go out of my way to get it, especially with my clothing choices.

Friday, on the lakefront, I stood out like a sore thumb. Me, with my Bermuda shorts, plain t-shirt and boring sandals. You’d think I was walking around naked. Seriously, people stared. Why? Well, I guess because I wasn’t wearing the requisite leather vest and tattoos.

Honestly, I’ve never felt more out of place. (Wait, there was that middle-school dance I chaperoned where I made the poor choice to go out on the dance floor. Never again.)

Anyway, my husband and I were the recipients of tickets to the Harley-Davidson 105^th Anniversary Celebration. We took Friday afternoon off to wander the Summerfest grounds and soak in some of the festivities.

I have to say, it was an impressive sight. I thought the 100^th was a big deal. I do think this may be way bigger. It took us an hour to get downtown and find parking. Again, our four-wheel transportation looked odd and awkward.

We were there pretty early in the afternoon, so I think we were a bit premature for the party. But I have to say, it was outstanding people-watching. It was fun to read the t-shirts which served as sort of personal license plates, labeling riders with their home states.

The best part, for me, was that unlike Summerfest, my love handles were definitely in style. Harley riders are very inclusive of the “middle-age spread." You gotta love that!

We wandered along the lakefront and over to Veterans’ Park. The contrast of bikes against the Calatrava was awesome to see:

We checked out the “Roadhouse at the Lakefront” where Harley will make amends for Elton by bringing in The Boss. The stage reminded me of the monolith from 2001 - A Space Odyssey:

And here’s the thing that attracted the most attention of all. A large crowd was gathered along the lake looking down at this:

That’s right, a tiny little fox foraging for scraps of food. Like me, it looked a little out of place too.

Well, it’s not currently red, but I have to say, it’s looking better than ever.

The other day, my husband and I wandered by Wauwatosa’s Little Red Store. Although it’s far from finished, it’s obvious that someone has spent some significant time on our quaint little landmark. (Darn those vandals that broke one of the windows!)

And it’s not a minute too soon, or so it seems based on this article I found on www.WauwatosaNOW.com. On September 10^th, the Milwaukee County Landmarks Committee will meet to determine whether The Little Red Store and two other sites should be designated as Official Milwaukee County Landmarks.

If you’re interested in contributing to the restoration of The Little Red Store, click here.

In the meantime, I’d be interested to hear what you think should be done with this darling little building. It sounds like the Wauwatosa Historical Society would like to make it a visitors’ center. I’m not sure how I feel about that, given its hard-to-find location. I'm also not sure if the long-term use of the Little Red Store is up for debate.

But let's talk about it anyway. Would it be better as a commercial business housed in a historic building? I’m thinking that may be a more reliable way to keep an important structure healthy and viable. Located just off a well-traveled bike path, some people have suggested a candy store or a bike rental shop? Why stop at bikes? Why not cross-country skis and Segways?!

What do you think?

It seems like everyone I know has Olympic fever. They’re watching and talking about the Olympics more than ever before. And how could you not watch them non-stop? They’re everywhere. I mean, really. They’re on NBC, USA Network, Oxygen, MSNBC, Universal HD and of course, online all the time.

Count me among the folks that are just a little bit befuddled by this Olympic experience. I think the problem is that I missed the opening ceremonies, a.k.a. the gateway to Olympic addiction. I was out that night and forgot to record it. I tuned in as the guy lighting the torch was walking along the top of the Bird’s Nest. Let me tell you, Peter Pan’s got nothing on that guy.

Since then, I’ve tried to watch the Olympics, many times. But every time I tune in, I either get boxing (which hurts me to watch), a water polo match, (a ridiculously hard sport that's pretty boring to watch) or a replay of a sport where the results have been splashed all over the internet. Or, I get all excited about an event, only to find that I’m watching a HEAT. Sorry, but nothing could be less exciting to me than a heat. Sort of like pre-season football or spring training. (I know it counts more, but if the athletes don’t care about finishing first, then I don’t either.)

I’m a huge sports fan, but in this day and age of instant information, it’s incredibly tough to get engaged in a medal competition when I can walk over to my computer and find out who won. I just don’t have that much self-control.

And NBC has tried their darnedest to ratchet up the drama. They’ve done background mini-documentaries, complete with tear-jerking music, on virtually every U.S. athlete. Perhaps that’s the problem for me. They over-prepared. Rather than allowing us to experience the real drama as it unfolded, they had to spoon-feed it to us until we practically gagged on it.

Then there’s the big kahuna - Michael Phelps. It’s not his fault. There’s no denying the fact that he’s one of the most amazing athletes of all time and I congratulate him and wish him the very best. I just wish they could have dialed down the over-the-top hysteria and just let us see it as it happened - without the anatomical diagrams explaining why his giant feet and short legs make him such an uber-athlete. I’m going to say this and it might be un-American: I’m Phelps-ed out.

In defense of NBC, how else do you fill HOURS of prime-time television? The time difference of 13 hours makes it unrealistic to show anything in real time. I guess they just crossed their fingers and hoped that people were OK with seeing their sporting events on tape delay. I can’t explain why I’m not. Perhaps it’s just the cynic in me.

Maybe the problem isn’t so much the viewing as it is the listening. I imagine Al Trautwig, Tim Daggett and Rowdy Gaines clutching their NBC-issued Official Glossary of Adjectives as they attempt to explain to us how a seemingly small mistake is really “disastrous” or “catastrophic.” Meanwhile, Bela Karolyi, whose wife coaches the U.S. Women’s gymnasts, makes absolutely no attempt to appear unbiased in his commentary. I guess that’s OK, because I’m rooting for the U.S. women too, but perhaps he shouldn’t be a regular “fixture” in the studio.

Bob Costas, who I usually like a lot, has really disappointed me this time in his role as NBC’s Olympic ring-master. I have never seen a more awkward moment on television than the split triple screen with Costas, Phelps and Mark Spitz. Rather than asking Spitz something mildly compelling like: “How does it feel to no longer be THE Olympic guy?”, he lobbed softballs and instead went for: “Mark, what do you think of what Michael has done?” Gee Bob, what did you think he was going to say? It was all just so painfully predictable as the two multi-medalists practically wrenched their shoulders patting each other on the back.

Now that I’ve totally rained on the Olympic parade, I’ll say that the other day I was brought to tears by the Olympics. It was the medal ceremony for the 55 kilogram wrestling weight class. The gold medal winner was Henry Cejudo of the U.S. who was apparently a surprise medalist. As our national anthem played, the announcers deftly explained that Cejudo is the son of illegal immigrants who had never slept in his own bed until he arrived at Olympic training camp. At that moment, I choked up and beamed with American pride as both Cejudo and his father had tears in their eyes.

Now that’s the kind of Olympic moment that I love.

The other day was garbage day. I went through my usual routine – picking up garbage throughout the house and bringing it out to our garbage can. And then, because it was recycling week, I made extra sure to find all of the used magazines and papers and cans and bottles that needed to be recycled.

And then a funny thing happened. Just as I was about to roll my garbage and recycling carts to the curb, I looked into them one last time. At that moment I realized that my garbage cart was only half-full and my recycling cart was absolutely packed.

Imagine that. Even here, in our house, where we seem to generate more garbage per person than the average household, recycling works. Who knew?

OK, this part is not about trash (or maybe you’ll think it is.) It’s just sort of a fun little “bonus” to this post. Here’s a music video of a song written by a Tosa college kid. (Yeah, it’s that one.) It will take you exactly 3 minutes and 23 seconds to decide whether it’s trash. I know, I’m shameless.

(Oh, and no, that's not that kid in the video.)

I’m sorry, but it’s just too early. I don’t care what you say...it is.

In fact, I would argue that being this early will mean that some things around your house will be stale...really stale.

What am I talking about? OK, so on Sunday August 10^th, we were wandering the aisles of Sentry, picking up a few essentials.

Suddenly, just northeast of the produce department, we ran into a GIGANTIC display. I could NOT believe it. I was so stunned that I took a photo with my cell phone. Here it is:

Please forgive the quality, but what you see there is an enormous display of Halloween candy. That’s right, I said Halloween candy. On August 10^th. Exactly 82 days before Halloween.

It's not enough that every neighborhood has multiple dates for Halloween. Now we have to think about those multiple dates nearly three months before they arrive!!!

Like I said, it’s just too early.

Who says Brett Favre is the only Diva in town these days?!

Judging by the hordes of females roaming the Village on Tuesday night, there are a LOT of Divas right here in Tosa. They were there en masse to participate in Diva Night in the Village.

Diva night was an evening of shopping, wine and summer desserts hosted by several village merchants. The first Diva night was held in February. Tuesday’s glorious summer weather was the perfect backdrop for this semi-annual girls’ night out.

A couple of weeks ago, my friend sent an e-mail to a few of us asking who wanted to be a Diva for a night. Honestly, I didn’t expect very much. For me, it was a good excuse for a night out with my friends. Throw in the fact that it was within walking distance of my house and that sealed the deal.

We met at Vino 100 at around 6:30 pm and the placed was PACKED. We snagged a coveted patio table and caught up on news and such with each other. Honestly, we considered foregoing the Diva "walk," where you carried a card and visited 8 of 14 stores for an opportunity to enter your name in a drawing for prizes. But curiosity prevailed and we hit the streets with cards in hand.

Village merchants that participated in Diva Night included: Vino 100, Magnolia & Co., French Country Pine & Design, Underwood Gallery, Oro di Oliva, Magpie Jewelry, Little Read Book, Juxt Home and Baby, Blue Lapin, Jilly and George, Urban Laundry, and Salamander. (Sorry - I knew that I missed a few!)

All of the merchants opened their doors, displayed their wares and offered food and drinks. Although I live very close to some of these retailers, there were several I had never visited. Diva Night was a great opportunity to check out some new places like Oro di Oliva and some old places that were new to me – Magpie Jewelry.

Judging by the conversations that were floating through the streets and businesses, Diva Night was a great success. Many women commented on how they will definitely be returning to these establishments when they have a little more time to shop. Now that’s music to the ears of any business!

Bravo to the organizers of Diva Night and especially to Vino 100, which served as the event headquarters both before and after the walk. Here’s hoping there will be many more Diva Nights to come!

Next time, I think we’ll just do lunch.

It all started about a year ago. My grade school friend, Margie, and I were trading e-mails at the end of the 2007 baseball season.

“Tell the Brewers to stop winning!” she pleaded.

“Not a chance,” I replied.

“Next summer, we should go to a game in Milwaukee,” she suggested.

At that point, I should have politely declined and offered to meet her at Six Flags. I hate roller coasters, but even that would have been more fun than yesterday.

Thursday afternoon, I took Margie to the Brewers’ game. I refuse to call it a Cubs’ game even though the crowd was at least 80% Chicago fans. (It was a day game. Don’t these people have jobs?!)

A month ago, this outing seemed like a very bad idea.

Last weekend, it seemed like a great idea.

Monday – less great.

Tuesday – um, well….

Wednesday – oh no!

Still, this was my old friend who I hadn’t seen in a long time. We grew up together on the north side of Chicago. We wore the same ugly plaid uniforms at St. Mary of the Woods grade school. We sat at our high school lunch table together. Back then, Margie made green Rice Krispy treats for everyone’s birthday. We’d catch up on old times and she’d make it fun, right?

When we entered Miller Park, Margie and I apparently looked like an odd couple. She in her Cubs’ t-shirt and hat and me in my really cool Brewers’ jersey. (I now hate the fact that this jersey just happens to be Cubbie blue. Dang it!) The Miller Park employees and vendors shot me pitiful glances, as if to say: “I’m sorry. Did you lose a bet or something?”

I knew it would be tough, but I never expected the force and number of Cubs’ fans that I encountered at Thursday’s game. I felt like the proverbial salmon swimming upstream against the tide of giant “Cs” and Chicago apparel. But I hung on to the hope that MY home team could send them back to Illinois, crestfallen and sorely disappointed. Alas, that was not to be.

At first the game looked like it could be a fair contest, until the home runs started…the Cubs’ home runs. Margie would clap loudly, stand up and then bend over and say: “I’m sorry!” “No you’re not,” I’d reply with a false grin hiding my grim demeanor.

And then the text messages started rolling in. First it was Margie’s sister: “Hey! The Brewers just traded CC and Sheets for Santo! Edmunds rocks!” Then it was our grade school friend, Liz, who sat with a bus-full of flatlanders in the nosebleed section. “Sorry for the delay in my response to your last message. I was distracted by the GRAND SLAM!”

Man, this was a very bad idea.

In the middle of the 8^th inning, when I could no longer sit and watch the massacre, I suggested that we wander up to visit Liz and her friends. Great idea, right? How much worse could things get?

My jersey and I walked up the steep steps into their section and I was greeted by a rousing chorus of boos and jeers as I valiantly waved my newly acquired Brewers’ car flag. This emboldened group, fueled by victory and alcohol, questioned my allegiances, my heritage and my ability to cheer for a team from Milwaukee.

“The Cubs never did anything for me when I lived there,” I started.

“I’ve lived here longer than I lived in Chicago,” I continued.

“They built me a stadium!,” I finally added, somewhat desperately. “It’s nice, isn’t it?” They agreed and said they really, really liked Miller Park. I would too if I were them.

Then they made feeble attempts to console me: “Karen, this will be great. The Cubs will win the division. The Brewers will win the wild card and then the Cubs will win the World Series. Everybody’s happy!” Um, sure. You did well in logic class in college, didn’t you pal?

Finally, it ended. Margie and I waded through the Cubs’ merchandise, the stupid Cubs’ victory songs and the “W” flags (apparently their fans need single-letter explanations for the outcome of a game – perhaps the Tribune sports page is too complicated?) And of course there were the brooms. Yes, we know. You swept us. Now go home. Your mommy needs to clean up the kitchen.

In the end, I’m a die-hard Brewers’ fan. There’s no turning back. The truth is, I’m jealous of their over-the-top euphoria. I’d like to think that we Milwaukeeans would handle it a little less obnoxiously, but I don’t really know that. All I really do know is that there’s only one way to stop this humiliation – just win baby.

In the meantime, Margie and I will stick to lunch….or roller coasters.

“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!

Here’s the deep, dark secret of Tosa’s SAHMs (stay-at-home moms): One of our greatest treats is going out to lunch or breakfast…and we’re not talking McDonald’s. Moms all over Tosa are always looking for somewhere fun, light, close and not overly expensive to grab a bite and share tales of motherhood with friends. With this in mind, thank goodness that Le Reve has arrived in Tosa…and not a moment too soon.

Loosely translated, Le Reve means “The Dream” and for many who “love to lunch,” Le Reve is a dream come true.

Located at 7610 Harwood Ave. (up the hill from Noodles and Bartolotta’s), Le Reve has carved out a charming and surprisingly spacious place in The Village. (Where they found TWO floors of space, I’ll never know, but when you walk in the door, you’ll think it’s been there forever.) The décor features exposed brick accented with dark wood and artsy photos. Overall, the ambience is warm and simple without being overly chic or trendy.

Step up to the counter and you have your first problem: You planned to try a light salad, soup or baguette but the desserts…oh, the desserts, look ridiculously good. (I managed to not give into temptation, so I can’t comment on them. But they just have to be good because they look amazing.)

I chose the Pan Poulet, which is sliced chicken with parmesan, red onion, tomato, romaine and a roasted garlic sauce on a baguette. It was good… really good. The baguettes are worth the trip alone. Crunchy on the outside and light and airy on the inside. One of my dining companions had the tomato, brie and pesto on a baguette which she said was excellent. Both of us opted for pommes frites (fries) with the sandwich. The fries are served in an adorable little paper cone. Here’s one tiny complaint, they look cute, but they’re really nothing remarkable. Just fries, perhaps a little too salty. At any other restaurant, we’d love them. It’s just that Le Reve raised the bar and we expected a little more. My other friend had a crepe and salad and raved about those as well.

Like so many Tosa eating spots, the deal at Le Reve is that you place your order at the counter and they bring your food to you. The service is not fast. We weren’t bothered because we were so busy chatting, but if you’re in a hurry, this probably isn’t the place to go. (Others have told me that their food took a while to be served.)

Another teeny complaint: if you sit on the second floor, grab napkins and to-go boxes before you go up because they aren’t available upstairs.

Oh and here’s an interesting twist that may be a challenge for some: If you go to Le Reve, leave your soda addiction at home. There’s not a Coke or Pepsi product in the place. That’s right. You’ll have to try one of their gourmet bottled sodas, ice tea or lemonade. This threw me for a loop, but on second thought, I kind of like it. I can have a Diet Coke anywhere, but I can’t get one of Le Reve’s baguettes anywhere.

I will definitely go back, perhaps for a breakfast selection – a croissant, a quiche or a brioche? Oh and I must try those desserts…those tempting desserts.

Le Reve is open Monday through Saturday, 7:00 am to 8:00 pm.

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.

Now, we Packer fans have a front-row seat for Brett Favre’s own late career crisis. The player most likely to create drama on the field has brewed up a perfect storm of controversy pitting himself and his legacy against Packers GM, Ted Thompson.

Brett, I know it’s tough to retire, but you should be ashamed of yourself.

Let me back up and tell you that I am one of the biggest Brett Favre fans there is. When everyone else in my house booed his interceptions, I continued to cheer him on. We all have bad days on the job, right? I was continually impressed with his team-first attitude, despite professional and personal challenges. Oh and one more thing: I do not blame Favre for the NFC Championship loss to the Giants. Sorry, no. It takes an entire team to lose.

Today, my feelings have changed. (About Favre, not that frigid game.)

Favre has single-handedly put the Packers in a no-win situation. He points the finger at the team administration for asking him to make a decision before the draft. Can you blame them? The team’s job is to look to the future and prepare for the upcoming season. It is not their job to look out for Favre and twiddle their thumbs while he rides his tractor and mulls over his choices.

He has changed his mind several times since his retirement press conference. And rather than answer to the rumors swirling about, he allowed his brother and his mother to talk to the media. C’mon Brett. Do your own talking.

What bothers me most is that everything Favre has done demonstrates that he feels he is more important than the team. The good ole boy from Mississippi apparently has a sizeable ego. He doesn’t want to be traded, he just wants to be released. He won’t be a backup ($12 million for holding a clipboard - nice work if you can get it) and he doesn’t feel like he should have to compete for the starting job.

And to add to the drama, Favre is supposed to be in town this weekend to help induct Frank Winters into the Packer Hall of Fame. Poor Frankie Bag O’ Doughnuts. His big day of celebration just became a media circus all about Brett. Way to go, gunslinger.

I heard former Packer wide receiver Don Beebe on the radio the other day. He had a great suggestion: Favre shows up at training camp and proves that he is humble enough to get out there with the rest of the guys and compete for his position. This will force the Packers’ hand and make him look like the all-around great guy we thought he was. They’ll either have to reinstate him as a starter, trade him or release him.

For those who have said that the Packers owe Favre his release or his job back, I disagree. Favre has always been paid handsomely and, in turn, has performed commensurate to his salary. Both sides upheld their ends of the bargain. That’s it. Favre gets the endless accolades for ever and ever. But to bow to his every whim, at the expense of the future of the franchise, is just plain foolish. To let him go and get nothing in return would be, in my opinion, a poor fiscal decision for the team.

There are no winners in Favre’s self-created soap opera. His legacy has been forever tarnished. The Packers are damned if they do, damned if they don’t. It didn’t have to be this way. If Favre had just left us wanting more and moved on to pursue other hobbies, I think we’d all be happier. I would much rather remember him in that last heartbreaking game, leaving it all out on the field, than hear him whining to Greta Van Susteren on Fox News. (What? Was ESPN’s Chris Mortensen busy or just tired of the theatrics?)

Now, we’re just left with the name of a popular Tom Petty song:

Brett, “Stop draggin’ my heart around.”

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.

What they should have said on that recording would be a line from Dante’s Inferno:

Here are my two initial thoughts as I sat there on hold:

1. If my call were important, they would have staffed sufficiently to be able to answer my call in less time, which is what I would have liked.

2. Not sure who thought that repeating the above message every 30 seconds would make me feel even more valued or less irritated.

And so began my descent into what could be best described as the tenth circle of hell (Dante wrote about nine, but he didn’t have Road Runner) – Time Warner Customer Service.

Look, I understand that when a company becomes successful, they grow. And when they grow, it’s tough to continue to offer truly personal customer service. But during my odyssey (a total of about 3 hours on the phone), I spoke to no less than six people – six! I started out patiently explaining my problem and just when I felt like the person to whom I was speaking understood my dilemma, they transferred me somewhere else.

Each time I was transferred, a seemingly nice person would listen to me, apologize for my troubles and express empathy for my frustration. But then, every time, I would have to repeat the same information that I gave the person before them.

Along the way, my patience diminished and the follies multiplied. For instance, the first tech support person told me to reboot my modem by unplugging the power cord. Great idea, except that we also have digital phone (All the Best!) and that small action disconnected my call. My dog Millie cowered in the corner at that moment as I shouted at the now non-working phone: “Are you kidding me?! Are you KIDDING me?!”

It seemed like every person I spoke to contradicted the person before them.

After numerous rebootings and multiple speed tests, it was determined that I’m only getting half the typical Road Runner speed. Um, yeah. I kind of knew that. That’s why I’m calling!!!

So, next week, I get a personal visit from a Time Warner truck to, pardon the pun, try and get me up to speed. My expectations are rather low. Yes, I have already abandoned hope.

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:

- I much prefer any of the smaller stages to the Marcus Amphitheater which has, in my opinion, some of the worst acoustics of any venue in town. And that includes The Bradley Center.

- This year’s lineup of bands seemed refreshingly diverse – something to please almost everyone….at least in our house!

- I have only experienced human gridlock twice in my life. (The phenomenon where you’re walking and then suddenly nobody can move.) The first time was at Epcot Center on New Year’s Eve. The second time was July 3rd at 11:30 pm outside the Miller Oasis Stage. Pretty scary.

- Note to self: The base of the Miller Oasis sign is possibly the worst meeting place in all of Summerfest. Why? Because 10,000 other people are meeting at that exact same spot at that exact same time.

- I’m all for introducing young kids to the joys of live music, but I’m almost to the point of suggesting that no children under the age of 10 should be allowed after 8pm. For example, I can’t begin to count the number of infants I saw at 11:30 pm. 11:30 pm. Seriously. What were those parents thinking?

- Although I wouldn’t want one for myself, I’ve become reluctantly accepting of tattoos. Not so much with some of the piercings that I saw. Especially the one where you create a hole in your earlobe large enough to drive an SUV through. I can’t help thinking, what will that look like when that person is 70 years old? Ick.

- I hate to give away a secret, but the Usinger’s sausage garden on the far north end of the grounds is the most peaceful place to grab an authentic Milwaukee meal. Good food, lots of space to sit and surprisingly quiet.

- The Big Bang Fireworks, which we could clearly see from the Zippo Rock Stage on Thursday night, were strangely endless. Did they have leftovers from last year? There were two finales. Two. It made me realize that there is such a thing as too many fireworks.

- One of the most entertaining stages (even if it’s not my favorite style of music) is the Cascio Interstate stage outside the Marcus Amphitheater. It’s a teeny tent with a light pole directly in front of the stage. The kids performing heavy metal and punk have more energy and enthusiasm than you’ll see on any other stage. Plus, watching the head bobs of the small audience is oddly mesmerizing.

- Good news: I do not have ADHD. That is according to the test I took at the ADHD tent near the south end of the grounds. I cannot quite wrap my head around why such an exhibit was needed, but I’m glad to know that I can cross that worry off my list.

- Summerfest Pull Tabs = Possibly the worst use of your festival dollars.

- One of the best places to listen to music is at the U.S. Cellular stage. Sure, the music is pretty good, but reading the texts that people send to the giant screen next to the stage can be just as amusing. Some of my favorites: “U R Staring at a giant screen.” And “If U R cute, look left.” (Everyone looked left after reading this.) However, this is not a place to find good spelling.

- If you have to park in Lot P on the far south end of the grounds, try to leave early. My friends and I were stuck in gridlock after leaving a 10pm show. It took us 90 minutes to get back to Tosa.

- One of the oddest promotional sights was the KC Masterpiece Barbecue Sauce stain removal beanbag toss (or something like that) outside the Marcus prior to the Tim McGraw concert. That’s what I’m thinking about when I go to Summerfest – stain removal.

- I was consistently impressed by the pleasant demeanor of virtually every Summerfest employee that I encountered. I cannot fathom being that friendly for 11 days.

- The new Harley stage is amazing. I can’t help but wonder if the folks at Miller are a little jealous.

Got any Summerfest thoughts? Leave a comment and share your thoughts, criticisms or quirky sightings. See you next year at the ‘Fest!

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 believe that fireworks should never be shown on TV. Never. They just don’t work. To me, fireworks on TV seem like a great idea. You don’t have to battle crowds, look for a spot to sit, or soak yourself in bug spray.* You can sit in your comfy, perhaps air-conditioned, house and enjoy the show.

The thing is, there’s nothing less-fulfilling than watching fireworks on TV. Except perhaps watching taped Olympics coverage when you know the results. (Don’t worry. I’ll get on that soapbox later in the summer.) I have no interest in what Mike and Carol think about the fireworks. Zero. In fact, they annoy me to no end.

To truly enjoy a fireworks show, you have to earn it. You have to search for parking. You have to lug and carry stuff until you’re sweating. You have to try to get comfortable. And then, hardest of all, you have to wait. And if you have young children, you have to listen to the endless questions and whiny cries: “What time is it?” “When will they start?” “I’m bored!” “I have to go to the bathroom.”

But when the fireworks start…when you feel that first gigantic percussion resonate in your chest…it’s so worthwhile.

And I agree with the citizens on the Town Square. Skip the music, unless by music you mean the chorus of “oohs” and “ahhs” that you can’t avoid joining in on.

While I have your ear, let’s talk a little fireworks etiquette:

(1) Leave Fido at home. I’ve seen far too many cowering, trembling pooches at the Tosa fireworks every year. The dogs do not look happy and their owners are clearly not enjoying themselves.

(2) Leave the sparklers at home. Sparklers in your backyard – good idea. Sparklers in a giant crowd of people – very bad idea.

(3) Unless you’re joining in the Oohs and Ahhs Chorus, please don’t talk over my fireworks. It’s only about 30 minutes. Feel free to chat before or after. Definitely not during.

(4) Wait to leave or be nice. The crowds are going to be HUGE. You may as well take your time leaving or accept that it will take you a while. Honking or getting irritated adds nothing to the equation.

Here’s wishing everyone a Happy and SAFE 4^th of July! See you at the fireworks!

*In my last post, I talked about the shortage of bug spray at local stores. A visit yesterday to the Walgreens at Hwy 100 and North Ave. proved me totally wrong. They had lots of bug spray. Just in time for the fireworks!

Pssst. Hey - yeah, you. Wanna buy a can of bug spray?

Remember last winter? Who doesn’t?! That endless icy blast of Mother Nature that coated our sidewalks and front steps with potential lawsuits. Back then, the toughest find in Tosa was salt (or ice melter.) No matter who you talked to, conversations always came around to: “So, do you know where I can buy some salt?” Neighbors would call each other with hot tips on a bag or two of calcium c