42nd Street
Elaborate production, with lot and lots of great tap dancing.
Speaking of tripping the light fantastic...
On his way over for hors d'oeuvres prior to the show our neighbor fell coming up the front steps. He spent the evening in the hospital instead of the audience. He's fine, with no serious damage. But it made for a jarring evening, and we're all still hurting.
Washington is being infiltrated. Where is J. Edgar Hoover when we need him?
The high today was the temperature at which water turns to ice. Moderate for February, but to us spoiled softies, it seemed cold.
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For the most part, I minded not how the hours went. The day advanced as if to light some work of mine; it was morning, and lo, now it is evening, and nothing memorable is accomplished. Instead of singing like the birds, I silently smiled at my incessant good fortune."
—Thoreau
...and still counting.
To avoid disasters, such as the time we ended up at Steak and Shake, and to avoid the crowds, we opted to go out for lunch instead of dinner—to the great little Irish pub in Fort. Then, for dinner—a picnic, replete with a fire on the patio, three bean and potato salad, and bratted wurst. Can't get more romantic than that, I don't think.
Sunny, moderately breezy, and rather warm.
Pax and I got in a big loop walk and a bike ride to the prairie.
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Shifting back to yesterday... A few hours after the wild iceboating, a walk in Doctor's Park down to Lake Michigan, which was not at all frozen. On the beach, we looked out and tried to imagine what was going on across the water.
Katy and Will enjoying an air bench.
Walking, or trying to, the balance beam.
And here is a video Tony shot yesterday of one of the races:
Anticipating what was to come, five Nite racers (Bri and Tony among them) were on Pewaukee ice and set up by 8:30—in the morning, on Sunday. Shortly thereafter, the temperature rose above freezing and the wind began to build. But the five Nites got in two wild races, with me, on foot, as official starter and scorer.
Conditions were so wet and wild that everyone's face mask became water-logged, which made breathing difficult. The masks therefore had to be pulled down below chin, exposing skin, and after the second race most the five faces were bloody from the impact of flying ice chips.
Such is the sport.
As this was not an official club race or sanctioned regatta, we had to deploy our home-made marks (orange skirts by Mimi) for the first time ever since constructed over a year ago. Once tension on the bungee was adjusted properly they stopped blowing over, and served their purpose well.
By the end of the second race it was obvious that anything more would be suicide. The wind was screaming. And, of course, all the meltwater from the entire lake was being pushed down from west to east, and when we got back to the staging area by the launch ramp it was under four or more inches of water. Not to mention that parked trailers were being blown ashore.
We waded around ankle deep in what might factually be called ice water long enough to get the sails down and the boats on the trailer, but then hauled out and did the bulk of disassembly and covering-up in a parking lot somewhat sheltered from the gale.
Such is the sport. Then again, it's hard to imagine anything better.
Blowing like stink yesterday—gale warning tomorrow. Today, with iceboat racing called on, absolutely flat calm. Bri and family took advantage of the situation (after abandoning boating) to do some rocket launching, and the missiles parachuted down almost exactly where they blasted off.
Here in Whitewater, just a gray day, pretty much unsuited for any fun outdoor activity. On top of that Pax heard a noise this morning and became a reluctant walker.
On to spring, or winter, or something.
Solid, hard, relatively smooth ice—and a lot of wind.
Bri took off work early, and at 2 we set the boats up on Pewaukee. Then an hour and a half of crazy fast sailing, chasing each other all around the lake. Not sure if the right word is exhilarating or terrifying. And the flying ice chips hurt.
Pax had fun too.
Bright sun, and now bright moon, but cold air. That's the good cold because it's appropriate for the time of year and because it makes ice.
The bad cold is the drippy, sneezy, head-achey kind that saps one's energy. Begone dull germs.
But walking still possible. No problem navigating around the patches of ice where where Frost's "silver lizards" got caught. (Yes, cold, with temps dropping into single digits tonight.)
And speaking of ice, as of now the ice is nice, and should suffice. (for sailing)
In honor of Aunt Janet, 90th birthday, which acutally was last Thursday.
Lunch at the very nice Courthouse Pub...
...which is across the street from the courthouse, and under the Budweiser bottle.
Fense dog all the way up; rather reavy hain in Manitowoc, dlying frizzle on the way home. Luckily no sreezing fleet, which was forecast.
Had to tie my coat around my waist as Pax and I took our big loop walk. Got in some decent furlongs while balanced on two wheels. Puttered in the garage, without numb fingers. Unseasonably warm, in other words.
Rain forecast in a few hours. Could the Zamboni actually work this time?
As George Washington put it, political parties are likely “to become potent engines, by which cunning, ambitious and unprincipled men will be enabled to subvert the power of the people and to usurp for themselves the reins of government.”
To Fox Point to catch one of Will's hockey games. Will is quick, never daunted, and likes to score, which he did today.
Will, far right, getting set to score a goal.
After the game, lunch at the new, distinctive, Cafe Hollander in Mequon, where Dutch lessons are provided free of charge in the washrooms.
... and a walk on the wild side.
World's best waffles for breakfast, and then a bit later, a walk in a Kettle Moraine woods, which included lots of fun around a spring-fed creek—replete with tangy water-cress. Pax went rather wild, only rejoining us hikers as we neared the trail-head and after a swim across an icy stream.
Looking here, there, and everywhere for nice ice.
But none found. Above, Williams Bay, Lake Geneva, which looks frozen but which gives way to open water not that far out. On the plus side, we had tasty gyros sandwiches for lunch at Elizabeth's in Delevan.
Very much enjoying the novel, The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry, about a bookseller, and a child abandoned in a bookstore, being adopted, and growing up amid the tomes.
Ellie's first rate first grade program.
And February is short.
Sun today. And that makes a difference when you have had a dismal January. Even more good news—an hour more daylight now than back in the shadowy solstice.
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“It is not fair to ordinary folks — it just confuses them — to try to make them swallow all the true facts that would be suitable to a higher class of people."
Sinclair Lewis, It Can’t Happen Here
...chair of the Democratic Party of Wisconsin.
A cordial and interesting meeting with a competent leader who has, I think, a clear vision of the promised land and a good grip on the tools needed to get us there. Let's hope it happens.
I got the feeling (certainly never expressed or implied) that my ideas were a bit on the simplistic or naive side. Perhaps.
Trying to pull all the obstreperous Democratic factions into one team or tribe is a daunting job. The other side has done it, and if we don't we will never be able to compete. Winners get to pass and enforce legislation, take executive action, and make appointments. Losers get to protest and sign petitions.
The new (renovated) snowblower works. Only about two inches, but enought to show that the machine knows what it's supposed to do.
...of winter.
A few hours of sun right after sunrise (a rare occurrence), but then clouding over with snow by afternoon. Cold. Bird feeder topped up to overflowing at 7 A.M. and empty by 5 P.M.
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I'm beginning to have the feeling that we are living through a significant period of American history, with a lot hanging in the balance. Assuming we come out of it with a country somewhat resembling the one we know, this time will be looked back on as something significant, along the lines of the depression, or Watergate or 9/11. Lots of fodder for future historians.
And no shortage of pain.
Lots of bending, lifting, kneeling, crawling, pushing and pulling, and that's before the race. And after. With the ice rough and crusty (in other words, sticky) and the wind variable, it was possible to sail into a patch of doldrums, and I seemed to do so in every race. When that happens, you have to get out and push while the other boats go whizzing by. Years ago I vowed I'd never push again, but in the heat of the moment, I seem to have forgot. Too much strenuousity for this particular frame, and on top of that my thumbs were frozen solid for four hours.
Bri was away, so it was Tony in Solstice and me in Wombat. Tony did well—up with the hotshots.
Meanwhile, in light of the immigration and refugee madness emanating from Washington, Abby organized a protest at the office of another politician of little brain.
Grocery shopping one of the highlights.
Chilly, breezy, gray day, one to make you appreciative of insulation, central heat, and indoor plumbing.
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My two favorite things in life are libraries and bicycles. They both move people forward without wasting anything. The perfect day: riding a bike to the library.
― Peter Golkin