That Monday Sunrise
In case you missed, Milwaukee was graced with a beautiful sunrise Monday morning. Brushstrokes of brilliance blown betwixt earth and heaven. Poetic as shiz, my dudes. And thanks to daylight savings, most everyone woke up in time to see it. You gotta enjoy the little blessings because everything else is bad and is coming to hurt you.
Milwaukee’s First Cidery
Whenever I hear “craft,” I imagine a guy with a twirly mustache, $200 flannel shirt and a shockingly high sense of self-regard lecturing some poor woman about the importance of hops. But hey, that’s not fair. And cider is cool. So I’m happy to say that Milwaukee now has its first craft cidery, with the opening of Cache Cider, located 2612 S. Greeley St. Cache is selling six ciders (all of which are hard, in case you had any doubt). Plus, they’re made from Wisconsin apples, so you can celebrate the state while you pound the brews.
St. Patrick and His Day
Huge fan of St. Patrick’s Day. It’s great. Ireland is the coolest. They have Samuel Beckett and James Joyce and Bram Stoker and Guinness and Not Talking About Your Feelings. What a cool place filled with cool people, and they deserve to be celebrated. My 16.5% Irish heritage ratchets up to 100 this whole week. Although the Shamrock Shuffle was postponed until Sept. 18, Ireland can’t be kept down and the corned beef and cabbage was glorious.
No Polish Fest
At this point, stuff not being canceled is surprising, but it still stings when we lose another festival. Polish Fest, which was all set for June, got the axe this week. Sorry, Poland. We will miss your many delicious dishes. Your Rosol, your Bigos, your Zurek, your Kompot, your Kabanosy, your Mizeria, and your Red Barszcz and even your Salatka Jarzynowa. Did I just google “Polish food” because I don’t know anything about their cuisine? Of course not.
Don’t get me wrong – Wisconsin winter is a beautiful thing, and it makes a weak boy into a hearty Midwestern man. I’m all for it. But when you get a week of 50-degree temperatures and then it snows, it feels a little like bowling five perfect strikes in a row and then turning around to pump your fist in the air and ramming your crotch straight into the ball return machine. We all know that feeling, right? Not just me? It’s more than just the crotch pain that hurts. It’s the memory of better times.