A Pastoral

A theatre history professor once compared the pastoral to a baseball game. He said that our young hero first faces the task of breaking away from home and, upon his escape, enters the green world. He then faces numerous foes and obstacles, all before ultimately returning home, where he is welcomed with much pomp and celebration.

This was the image I kept thinking of as Ben and I sat in Miller Stadium on Friday and watched the Brewers play the San Francisco Giants. Maybe it's because we were in our own version of the pastoral - if you count Wisconsin as the green world and road constriction and Ben's spats with Carmen the Garmin as obstacles.

Friday was a beautiful night to sit at the ballpark. I could try to offer analysis of the game, but really, we all know that's not my strength, right? We all know I go to baseball games because it makes my husband happy and it's nice to sit outside and people-watch for three hours. So, from my perspective, the game was lovely. If you want more details, talk to Ben.

We didn't have a chance to eat before we went to the game, and we were STARVING by the time we checked into the hotel. We were desperately seeking anything that was open at 10:50 pm, and the people at Chili's were kind enough to let us sit and eat while they cleaned up the dining room for the night. Our waiter, while sweeping the floor near us, asked how we were dealing with the loss of "MJ" and then proceeded to tell us about the emotional roller coaster he'd been on since the pop star's death. It was a bit of a surreal experience - being in a Chili's, being completely exhausted and hungry, and hearing about the availability of Michael Jackson CDs at the local Best Buy. Come to think of it, this paragraph is sounding quite pastoral.

On Saturday, we went to the Public Market in Milwaukee. We feel in love with the Public Market last spring. It's an indoor facility with numerous vendors selling everything from veggies, meat, seafood, cheese, spices, and baked goods.

We got coffees (I had a decadent iced strawberry white mocha) and baked goods - a chocolate chip scone and a blueberry muffin - for breakfast.

We were super excited to see the Saturday farmers' market just outside the building, but were quite disappointed when there were only seven tables and no vegetables in sight.

We didn't want to leave Milwaukee without seeing the lakefront. We parked at the art museum, and we could see people staring to trickle in to nearby tents for something called Summerfest.

Flash forward to 20 minutes later when we were on our way to Madison and enjoying one of our favorite things about Wisconsin - the local sports radio programs. We just *happen* to hear an ad for Summerfest and learn that BARENAKED LADIES were playing there that night. Ben says, "So how far away from that do you think we were?" I was too busy outdoing our waiter in his pop singer despondency to respond.

Our disappointment in the Milwaukee farmers' market was soon forgotten when we arrived at the Madison market. It. was. glorious. It spans around the state capitol and nearly every both has veggies. People picnic, play Frisbee, or just bask in the sun on the lawn of the capitol as people do their weekly shopping.

We couldn't help but walk away with a few things - including summer squash, onions, snow peas, cheese, buffalo burgers, and a strawberry plant (because I can't stop buying things that grow).

We also went to Trader Joe's to stock up on some goodies. I'm getting pretty serious when I say the next place we live *must* have a Trader Joe's.

Our final stop of the day was New Glarus, Wisconsin. Ben first discovered the New Glarus Brewery's Spotted Cow and Fat Squirrel when we were in Wisconsin last spring. We did a self-tour of the facilities and tasted some of their other brews.

Our verdict is that we still like Spotted Cow and Fat Squirrel the best. I did have to take of photo of this sign for one of their other beers because, quite frankly, it is the best beer name ever.

I forgot to mention that we did our beer tasting when our stomachs were, again, empty. Luckily, New Glarus is "America's Little Switzerland," and we just happened to be there the weekend of the Heidi festival. I was pretty tipsy as we wandered though this little hamlet (pop. 2000), but I nevertheless enjoyed their celebration, the $2 pork rib I ate, and the largest pot of Swiss fondue I have ever seen, which Ben and I shared. We then went to the New Glarus Bakery and had this dessert, the name of which I cannot find. Apparently the French name is marjolaine cake, but I can't find the Swiss name (which starts with an "S"). Anyway, we like to call it the cake that was more butter cream than cake - thin layers of cake between thick strips of butter cream frosting. I had the lemon version, and Ben had the mocha version. I probably undid all my good eating habits of the previous week with just that one dessert, but it was so worth it.

We then headed home on 151, which is a beautiful drive through rolling pasture lands complete with grazing cattle. A beautiful way to leave the green world.

I suppose there wasn't much celebration or pomp when we came home from our journey - unless you count Sully. But with him it's hard to tell. He gets that excited when I come in from getting the mail.