Eastward ho!

This morning I set out for the east side. You might think I was stalking this guy who lives out there, but no. I had another meeting at Mother Fools coffee house and I thought Mr. B might enjoy the adventure.



Hey, what do Ocean and Mother Fool's have in common?

For non-Madison readers, let me summarize it thus: east side people have this thing where they are in love with their ‘hood. Willie Street to an east-sider is like the Black Madonna is to a Catholic Pole. East side people don’t typically like to admit to any great affection for west side people. Phrases like “stuck up” and “snotty” come up. “Homogeneous” is another. And the dreaded word: “suburban.” West siders are soooo suburban.

Within the west side bunch, you have near-west siders, who think they are more like east siders in their funkiness and then you have far-west siders. Near-west siders don’t like far-west siders. They want to distance themselves from the suburban image. And that funkiness complex, too: it comes up.

At this moment I live on the far west side. I got news for you, near-west siders: you’re not more funky than I am, you’re just more rich! Your house costs twice as much as mine.

Me – I like the east side just fine and today I absolutely loved it and felt a great deal of jealousy, verging on rage: they have one of the best bike paths running through it and it is level! No hills, no ups and downs, none of it: flat as can be. Mr. B and I were in heaven.

So there I am, wiling away the morning hours, when a familiar sight comes right into my field of vision:


Oscar? Note the (empty) glass of iced coffee... It has to be!

If this doesn’t appear familiar to you, take a run through cyberspace here.

No, no, Oscar was not stalking me nor I him. It’s just that east siders, they like to band together in public spaces.

My Mo Fo morning made me very very late for the farmers market. So late that Anne of Fantome Farm no longer had any goat cheese left. How can one eat 6-grain crackers without goat cheese? The good thing about being kind to the farmers is that they give you the shirt off their back and, more importantly, their sample containers if they don’t have anything to sell you. Anne: you saved my crackers for the week to come.



Mr. B was happy enough carrying the whole loot home. Uphill -- it being the tiresome west side.