Tuesday, August 02, 2005


L and I needed a break. Too much work. Too many new things going on. Not enough fun. L was screwing around on-line and went to the Milwaukee Germanfest web page. We had gone five years before with friends D, and K & D (get married, become one entity). We had a great time. There was a Japanese yodeler who only spoke Japanese and German. He rocked.

Anyway, L was looking at their page and saw that they were bringing back the Japanese yodeler. Go to the link. There is a downloadable sample of his music. It rocks. Anyway, we started thinking about it and thought it would be fun to go see ol' Takeo Ischi the Japanese yodeler. I jumped on line and lo and behold but the Brewers were playing the Giants at Miller Park. The beauty of Miller Park and Milwaukee is that we got seats six rows from home plate, behind home for thirty five dollars per ducat. Are you kidding me?

In the event, we went up Friday and took pictures. A few are on the photopage. All we had was a tourist map from the hotel. Anyone who has ever chased old steeples in old cities knows that the good churches are not in the sorts of areas on tourist maps. We spent most of Friday in the sorts of areas I expected to be marked with "Here Be Dragones" on the map. Anyway, that was pretty cool.

Saturday we were all krauted up. We went to Germanfest early and stayed late. Bier, Wurst, Sauerkraut, Mandeln, Potato Pancakes, and many other excellent Germanic consumables were consumed. We met a woman who knew my high school German teacher, Yudita Mauersberger. I suspect that Frau Mauersberger is still not the sort of woman one forgets. We saw the Japanese yodeler, we sang "Alice, Who the Hell is Alice," we participated in a few Prosits (surprisingly few) and still successfully navigated the shuttle bus back to the hotel. We are troopers. Not Sturm Truppen, just troopers. Smartasses.

Sunday I convinced L that we would be in the shade at Miller Park. In my defense I was partially right. We were. From the third inning on. Those first two innings made me appreciate what a bagel inside a toaster feels like. I have the burn marks to prove it. L got it worse than I did, which is probably more painful for me than if I had just gotten burned. Oh well. She should've known I was full of crap. I mean, that's hardly a new development. The Brewers pitcher had a no-no going for five, which was fun, but it clearly couldn't last. The Giants hit about six rockets right at people over those first 15 outs. That will not a no-no make. Anyway, the Brewers won, former Cub Damian Miller went yard and we were home by six.

The moral of the story: visit Milwaukee. It is Chicago's nicest suburb.


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