Monona's Fireworks ... or a Close Encounter?

Monona's Fireworks Encore!

Here's one more for the road ... now I've got to go to bed.

There's a Sale at Kohl's!

These comically bright table settings are available for stupid cheap money. You could buy them now, or wait twenty years, when they will possibly reappear on the shelves of the local thrift store at a quarter apiece. Then again they could, like Fiestaware, become collector's items so hideously expensive that you won't be able to put together a complete eight-setting collection for under two-thousand dollars. And no power in the universe will ever know why.

Back to the Memory Box: RAF Digby

I don't know how this got in here ... this dates from 2001, when I was stationed at RAF Digby in Lincolshire. I did mention that I was stationed in England, didn't I? Twice? God, I miss England.

I've dragged my family back and forth across the globe way too many times, but I think they all enjoyed living in England; it was a move well worth making. We traveled more widely than I think we did anywhere else we've been; in the UK from Edinburgh to Land's End to Wells-Next-The-Sea, in Europe from Brugge to Kaiserslautern. B and the boys even stopped briefly in Italy while hopping a flight to Germany.

RAF Digby is a very small place, surrounded by farm fields and very small villages; most of the people I knew seemed to have trouble acclimating to rural life, but I could've very happily lived there, or in one of the nearby villages, for many more than the two short years we had.

Sector Ops Museum, RAF Digby

One of my most cherished memories I took away from RAF Digby would have to be the time I spent as a museum guide at the Sector Ops Museum, a fighter direction post lovingly restored to its World War Two-era glory by a handful of volunteers (Dave Curry, in this photo, being one of the most devoted volunteers of the bunch*, and one hell of an accomplished museum guide as well). I was the first American on the station to take part in giving tours of the museum, and enjoyed every minute.

Most of the items you see in this photo are replicas of the original working aids kept in the plotting room of a fighter direction post, re-created through the study of photographs. I belived that clock on the back wall is the real McCoy, though; I remember climbing a ladder to wind it and set the time on Sunday mornings that I was scheduled to guide a tour group. The room beyond the door, and several other rooms in the bunker, were filled with other authentic museum displays as well. Considering it was all pieced together by volunteers in their spare time, it was quite an amazing museum.

(I don't have any photos of the Ops Museum as good as this one, so I linked to a photo from the 'Y' Services Garats Hay Web page, hoping they won't mind.)

*Must give due credit (as well as a smile and a wave hello) to Pete and Terry, two equally hard-working volunteers and accomplished guides. Have I forgotten somebody? I hope not, but my memory's a dicey thing. Flames to e-mail, and I'll amend the footnote as appropriate.

Shakespeare's Book Store, Carroll Street, Madison

It's got just about everything I want in a book store, starting with truckloads of used books jammed into shelves going nearly all the way up to the tin-plated ceiling. The shelves stretch at least twice again this length to the back of the store — not quite infinity, but it feels like it — and there's more downstairs!

Shakespeare's also has plenty of books behind glass, if the bargain books aren't to your taste. I try not to look too closely at the books in the locked cases. Last time I stopped to browse, I found a bound copy of the history of passenger railroad coaches. I knew I'd kick myself for months if I passed it up, so I asked if they'd take twenty bucks a payday until I paid it off, and to my surprise they agreed. You can't get customer service like that at Barnes & Noble.

The Key to a Successful Move

... is of course to unpack everything right away. That's why nobody ever successfully completes a move. This little drawer of knick-knacks and oddities has been stuffed away since about 1992, and I've only now pawed through the mess to see what's in there.

The collection of pins in the foreground dates to the years we lived in Colorado, where B and I met each other and married sixteen bliss-filled years ago.

Two of the pins are from Odyssey of the Mind, the competition for school children; you know, give them a straw, a bit of string, a ping-pong ball and a pencil and ask them to build a bridge. They can usually do it. B was a coach, and I judged the competition.

Four of the pins are from the national monuments and national parks we visited on a camping trip across Wyoming in a Volkswagen pop-top microbus, back when the kids were easily tucked away into small spaces, and B and I were resiliant enough to climb Devil's Tower.

My eyes have only recently become bad enough to need a magnifying glass, but I've had the hand-held glass since I was a boy. It belonged to my great-grandmother.

Pocket watch for Dad

I was lucky enough to be stationed at RAF Chicksands near Bedford in England from 1985 to 1987, where I bought this pocket watch as a birthday gift for my Dad. He never had any occasion to carry a pocket watch, of course, and I have no idea what he did with it, other than put it in a drawer for safe-keeping.

A previous owner has rather carefully painted a pastoral scene across the face of the watch: a few sheep beside a stream, a church in the background surrounded by trees, a partly cloudy sky. I wanted a gift that said 'England' and this seemed to fit the bill.

My father passed away about six or eight years later and the watch came back to me.

Asleep! Me?

No, I haven't fallen asleep, althogh I may have dozed just a bit. I post most of my deepest thoughts at a web site my brother and I own, so as to get the most of our money, don'tcha know. I try to find an interesting photo to post here from time to time, but I dropped the ball these past weeks and for that I hang my head in shame.

Tell you what — to try make it up to you, here are a few of my favorite photos from a cast party I went to about a year and a half ago. I was fortunate enough to be part of a troupe of amateur kabuki actors and this party was our big celebration after pulling off a particularly special performance.


The leader of our troupe of would-be actors was a nationally-known kabuki artist who went by the stage name Bandoh-san. He was not just a spectacularly good actor but a man of limitless patience; he'd have to be, to attempt to teach a guy like me to act.

 

 

 



With plenty of practice we were eventually able to pull off a public appearance at the yearly cultural festival in Towada. I was sure that stage fright would paralyze me, as it usually does, but the lights were so bright I couldn't see anybody beyond the stage! I could concentrate on the show and had a great time.


 

 

 




These guys were just about the most fun I had while I was living abroad in Japan. It's no small stretch to go as far as to say they helped me hang on to my well-being during a very rocky time. Thanks, all!

Pasture Bedtime, one of the cows exhibited on the terrace around the capital, has to be seen up close and personal to be appreciated. It's inlaid with hundreds of clocks and wrist watches.

Pasture Bedtime again, this time from almost directly over the cow's flanks, to give you a better idea of the sheer number of clocks, watches and watchbands used to inlay the hide of the beast.

The observation deck at the top of the capital dome opened last weekend. Most people lining the rails are looking out at the city, but they're missing these pensive figures carved in granite that surround the dome. I wonder if most people even realize they're there.

Another look at the stauary on the capital dome.

One last look ...

I, Cow

Madison's nighttime skyline was reflected in the eye of this cow, to arresting effect.

Madison Skyline at Night (Cow Version)

The capital of Wisconsin is built on an isthmus. Lake Mendota's to the north, Lake Monona to the south, and a never-ending slew of photos and paintings of the city in between. Seems nobody with a camera or paint brush can resist the frame that sky and water put around the city.

The Cows Came To Madison

The state milk marketing board dreamed up this promotional art exhibit; they cast several hundred cows in fiberglass, handed them to local artists and bid them do what they would. Then they loaded the cows on trucks and began to cart them all over the state. I have no idea of Madison is the beginning of their tour, in the middle, or near the end.

Cows again

I found this cow face (complete with hen-shaped lock of forehead hair) hidden in the turquois pattern that covered one cow from head to hoof.

The cows are supposed to be in town for one or two weeks and, as you can see, they're scattered here and there along the sidewalks of the town. How long before the grafitti taggers get in on the action?

Bumper Cow

For sheer whimsy, I think this was my favorite cow — for today. Although several others have climbed in to take the wheel for a photo op, I resisted the urge (and I'm kicking myself for it now).

While I was grilling the customary Memorial Day tenderloin, I ducked into the house to escape the insane heat (temps were in the high 90s all day). My darling B was pan-frying onion crisps to garnish the steak and the hot oil had fogged the air in the house to the point that the evening sunshine cut slanting rays through the windows in the front door and the display screen in the living room.

It's been a long time since I've seen a modern car, particularly one made by Detroit, that will make me stop cold in my tracks and drool. This Chevrolet SSR was parked along Mifflin Street during my lunch hour last Friday.

If the capital building were designed today, would it look like ...

... this?

A walk around capital square first thing in the morning is a treat.

I've been sloppy drunk, and I've been awful tired, but I've never, ever been as relaxed as this, and I can't imagine how I ever will.

Looking Up

This oak tree has been hunched over like a question mark for longer than I've been breathing in and out, and I just noticed it today as I was taking my afternoon break in the form of a short walk around capital square.

Looking Down

It looks like an ash leaf, but I didn't see any ash trees on the square, so I'm not sure which tree's leaf was immortalized in the sidewalk on Mifflin Street.

Looking Up Again

These terra cotta faces look out across the square from the upper story of the building at 7 Pickney Street. Looks a bit like the Green Man, doesn't it?

Out on the Stoop

Of the many wonderful places in Our Humble O-Bode, this back stoop is a great place to take your cup of coffee and set a spell. Barb and the cats loves to watch the yard through the many windows; on warmer days, she swings the door open to give her an even better view through the screen. Her basil plant is doing very well in the sun at the far corner of the room, too.

And what does she watch through her binoculars?

We've got rabbits living in a warren under a rotting stump out by the lilac bushes. So far we've counted at least two adults and three youngsters, and when they're out on the lawn to get their morning silfay, Bonkers will jump from window to window, jockeying for the best view, and Barb will squeal, "Bunnies!" and call everybody into the room to watch.

Birds! Our neighborhood has had about fifty years to establish a thick cover of trees, and many of the yards have gardens, attracting grackles, cowbirds, cardinals, jays, nigers and sparrows — lots and lots of sparrows.

I can't think of a place I've been in Wisconsin where I haven't heard a mourning dove, and our yard is no exception. Even in a cold rain, this dove showed up for the morning shift to sing her song.

The yard has not a few flowers all around. The back yard is bounded on all three sides by lilac bushes, and they're in full flower this month.

Next month I'll be out there with a pruning shears and brush saw to trim the dead wood and overgrowth. heavy sigh

Even on a rainy day, the back stoop is a favorite place to sit and watch the reflections off the sheen across the deck and the ripples in the puddles that collect here and there.

At the coffee shop yesterday noon:

When it comes down to the last stale bagel, they should swap out "day-old" for "lonely, lost, and desperately in need of a home."

The slate-gray edifice of the state office building looms against the slate-gray overcast of an afternoon sky.

It's no Chrysler Building, but the state office building is ornamented with and art deco facade that gives it a lot of character and makes it one of my favorite downtown buildings. The city-county building (next to it on the right) is a practically featureless, pale blockhouse in comparison.

The building's design makes it appear large and yet reserved. Stately, I guess. You can make out more details of the art deco design.

Bonkers calls dibs on the warm sunny patch.

What is it about a napping cat that makes people smile? Nobody in our family can look at Bonkers sleeping in the sun and suppress at least a grin. He is the picture of contentment when he has a warm spot where he can curl up like a rolley-pollie and snooze until the sun slides too far away.

(Just how do you spell "rolley-pollie" without the first half mispronounced by most of the population? When it's "roll" nobody has any difficulty saying it right, but when it's "rolley" or "rollie" or "rollee," almost anybody I know would say RAH lee. So a standard spelling, please, for the bug that sounds like ROE lee POE lee.)

When I come back, I want to be a housecat, but not just any housecat: I want to be Bonkers, right here, in the sun, at this moment. What a life.

... and then, whatever the polar opposite of "contentment" is, that's a hungry cat. Bonkers is one of the warmest, friendliest, lapmost cats I've ever met, but when he wants his kibble he's the most relentlessly annoying, bar none, of any pet. I would never intentionally hurt a pet, but when he's hungry and underfoot it's almost impossible to walk to the kitchen tap to get a drink without punting him between the goalposts. There must be a way to cure him of this, but short of feeding him until he explodes, I don't know what it could be.

I hate being a showoff, but I can't resist - some of the views around our new home are really very photogenic, and I don't think it's only because I'm a proud papa.

These wildflowers grow in the grass strip between our garage and the neighbor's yard. The dandelions I recognize, but I don't know what the plants with the blue blossoms are called. I'll have to do a little learning after having a good look around.

The bumblebees love these blue flowers; I was trying to catch a snapshot of the one that darted away just before I clicked the shutter.

Packing out of the rental apartment. We've been living here for nine months, but we won't miss it for a second. So long, broken fridge door handle! Farewell, laundry room as big as a phone booth! See ya, stinky sewage-soaked basement rug! Good-bye, garage door that doesn't open from outside!

The crew that made our move from the apartment possible! From left, Barb, Jim, Darren, Sue, Carrie and Tim. Behind them, Darren's monster trailer, pulled by Darren's monster pickup truck, into which all our belongings fit without the least bit of trouble. We're outta here!

The new abode was ready in nearly all respects, with a few small touch-ups needed here and there. Tim painted the kitchen cupboards for his Mom.

Most of hour household goods have been in storage for almost a year! The challenge: Make it all fit into our snug little home.

Moving our few possessions from the apartment was easy; stowing all the household goods we had held in storage was quite another problem altogether. Barb spent days trying to figure out how to arrange all the kitchen utensils, pots and pans, plates and flatware so that it would fit in the older, smaller kitchen layout of our home.