I'll I want for Christmas is a snow blower

Once again, Milwaukee was hit with a fierce winter storm dropping a foot of snow on the city. When I went outside yesterday morning, I couldn't open the door all the way because the snow was so deep.


After digging myself out of the doorway, I continued on my way with my shoveling adventure.I cleared out the area by the backdoor and decided I do the front before the back so people could get through and the mailman could get to the house. Enter obstacle number two. The snow was too high that I couldn't open the gate all the way. I was able to squeeze myself through a barely open gate.



The area between my house and the neighbor's house was hit with some incredible drifting. The snow was even higher in these spots. Just passed the trellis, there was a glimmer of hope. The sidewalk was completely clear. Could it be true? Could some friendly neighbor cleared the snow from the front of my house? After digging my way through the side yard, my hopes were shattered. The two feet of cleared sidewalk were just the result of the drifting. As I was shoveling the sidewalk out front, I was leaning on my shovel taking a break. Right at this moment, a Jeep drove by and the driver laughed. What are you kidding me? Next it was on to the backyard.

I worked in the back for probably half an hour and then needed a break since it was clear all the people with snow blowers weren't about to offer their assistance. After my break I came back out and was working for probably another hour. My neighbor Jeff finally came out to work on his part of the ally. Him and his wife decided we needed to get a plow through the all. So two hours and $200 (divided among seven neighbors) later, our ally was clear. The plow guy even did my parking slab, which was fantastic. The dye in my boots seeped and my feet are still tinted brown after two showers. My entire body hurts, even my fingers. Now I can just rest up until the next four to seven inches falls tonight. Oh winter in Wisconsin.

I swore I would never live in Wisconsin...but now I'm sort of glad I do.

"Gov. Blagojevich has taken us to a new low. This conduct would make [Abraham] Lincoln roll over in his grave."

~ U.S. Attorney Patrick Fitzgerald

It is a sad sad day for the state of Illinois. I can't even begin to wrap my mind around how someone could 1. think what Gov. Rod Blagojevich did was a good idea and 2. that they could get away with it. That's just totally ridiculous and disappointing.

I am normally very proud to be from Illinois. In fact, when traveling when people ask me where I'm from, I struggle to answer. I normally say, I live in Milwaukee but I'm from Chicago/Illinois. While I love the city of Milwaukee, it still pains me to say I'm from here. However, today's events have me almost embarrassed to say I'm from Illinois. Sure there are plenty of jokes about how Chicago and Illinois government are corrupt (heck, I even make some of them myself), but this takes things to a whole new low.

I just hope on the news for the next month they don't pronounce the 's'! Good luck, Illinois. I'd like to be able to return proud one day.

Turkey Trot trot trot across the lot lot lot, feeling fine fine fine until...

about a mile and a half into the 8k. Yeah yeah, I know it's supposed to actually go "until Thanksgiving time."

On Thanksgiving morning I woke up before the sun was out and headed to the city with Mike and Rob. Caught up in the excitement of Mike's marathon accomplishments back in October, I agreed to run the Turkey Trot, an 8K race through Lincoln Park. Two weeks before the big day I got a horrible cold that lingered right up until race day. I had been on a pretty good running regiment (and by pretty good I mean for a couple weeks I had started running again every other day...not bad for someone who hasn't tried to run seriously in at least 3 years), but the cold hit me fast and hit me hard and I was out of commission. Needless to say, by the time race day came I wasn't exactly looking forward to running 4.8 miles. I knew for sure I could run 2.5, but the second half of the race I was nervous about.

The combination of the cold weather, my poor training and my poor health resulted in a fairly miserable 63 minutes. I'm happy to say I finished, and like we said walking over to the starting area finishing is a PR since I had never run an 8K before this. I probably only ran half of the race, but you would have thought I ran a marathon. My hip basically stopped working, old knee pains were back and I basically couldn't move. The running in the cold morning air cleared up the congestion at least.

On a positive note, as I was approaching the finish line, maybe 100m to go, people were lining the street. As you made the turn into the home stretch there were two guys there cheering people on. As soon as I heard the familiar "finish strong" from my cross country and track days, I kicked it into gear. Some how the pain in my hip didn't matter. I know I wasn't sprinting by any means, but I was going to finish strong if it killed me. I'd like to think that back when I ran in high school even though I was never all that good, I gave it my all. I didn't leave anything on the course. I sort of feel that's how this race went for me too. I wasn't breaking any records and was slightly disappointed in myself, but I put my heart in it and gave it all I could. I still won't say that I like running, but I do like racing.

Shamrock Shuffle training started today. Hopefully I can turn my disappointment into motivation and keep up the training and finish the next race in closer to 55 minutes. Someone remind me in March what I said my goal was.

Plowing: A novel concept?

No. No it is not a novel concept; however, Fort Atkinson, Wis. apparently has not fully grasped the concept just yet. This will be my fourth winter driving to Fort Atkinson, and once again as I pulled off of Hwy 26 into town this morning I was greeted by some of the most poorly plowed streets I've ever seen. Last winter, I sort of gave the town a break. The area was dumped with something like 100 inches of snow. Towns left and right were running out of salt. Poorly cared for roads were a just a side effect of a horrible winter. However, last night the area got maybe 7 inches of snow, maybe. I just don't understand what it is exactly the Department of Public Works does in that town. I understand that plowing costs money and all that garbage, but the main streets aren't even plowed well. It will baffle me for as long as I work in that town.

Update to last night: We did not get 10 inches of snow. Five is more accurate, maybe even being a bit generous. I woke up by 5:15 a.m. to shovel. Sometimes I surprise even myself!

December 1 is synonymous with snowstorm

Well, tomorrow is December 1, which means snow of course. So far there has been no accumulation in the city, but I've gotten word that there is nearly 6 inches out near work already. The last two winters the first big snow has come on December 1 and they have been big. Temps are expected to drop over night, so I'm sure I'll be waking up to a blanket of snow that I will have to shovel before I leave for work. On the news they said that areas within a mile of the lake (that's me!) are only expected to get 2 to 4 inches. Check back tomorrow and we'll see if that was true.

I salted out front tonight; hopefully that helps.

Not in 'My Milwaukee'

There's this website floating around out there called ThisIsMyMilwaukee.com. It certainly is not my Milwaukee, mostly because everything in the video is New York. The video is pretty entertaining though. In the spirit of this video, here is what makes up My Milwaukee.

My Milwaukee is...
Lake Michigan
The Palomino
The Milwaukee Art Museum
Trivia at the Milwaukee Ale House
The Pabst Theater
Cafe Lulu
Fish Fries
Local beers
An unbelievable cheese selection at the store (seriously, you guys don't know what you're missing)
Festivals
Miller Valley
Fried cheese curds
Mr. Shoe
Brady St.
Bay View
Cathedral Square
The 3rd Ward

That's good for now.

Salty enough to complement a margarita just wonderfully

In a salty mood because of a bad day at work? Try these remedies.

1. Hear a hilarious joke from a good friend who knew it was just the sort of joke you'd appreciate.
2. An hour-plus car drive home during which you rant about why you are so salty. You can pretty much count on getting it all off you chest within 20 minutes. The rest of the car ride can be spent on superficial things, such as how much weight people in the office have gained and how both of you are thinner than when you started. Sometimes you just need to be shallow.
3. Go for a run. I always run farther and longer when I have a lot of pent up frustration. Today was a perfect example. If things keep going this way, I'll be ready for the Turkey Trot in no time! (I hope they don't keep up though.)
4. Have a nice heart to heart with your big brother...even if you don't even mention anything about your crappy day.
5. Have a totally ridiculous conversation with your best friend.
6. Clean up your kitchen,

I hardly even remember why I was salty now. Well, that's not true I still remember very clearly why, but now it's not getting me down. I've "put it behind me," as some might say.

How's the air up there?

"The greatness of a people is no more determined by their numbers than the greatness of a man is by his height."

- Victor Hugo

I'm well aware of the fact that I'm not a particularly tall person. I've always held firm to the fact that I am average height. I remember sometime around high school sitting in the waiting area at allergist's to get my weekly allergy shot reading an article, probably in Time. I don't remember the exact content of the article, but I do remember reading that the average height of a U.S. woman is 5'4". How tall am I? Well, funny you should ask. I am 5 ft. 4 in." tall, coming in exactly at the average height for U.S. women. I've used this tidbit as my defense for the last 10 years. I've been 5'4" since 8th grade. I'm well aware that I'm done growing. I'm comfortable in my skin. Why can't everyone else be comfortable with it?

However, without fail almost every single day it is pointed out to me that I am so short or so little. Tell me something I don't know. "Kim, I couldn't see you standing over there because you're so small you can't see you over the cubicle walls." That was today's example. One co-worker doesn't even bother to throw in something about the height of cubicle walls. She just flat out tells me I'm so little...usually in an extremely condesending voice. The kicker: She's 23. I'll be 26 in about a month and a half. She has even taken to calling me Lil' Kim. Cute? Not really.

I have no qualms about my height. It has its benefits. I can always wear high heels with out looking like a giant. I've gotten out of putting all sorts of things away simply because I couldn't reach. I can fit in back seats of cars without much trouble. Sure, I would love to find a pair of pants that actually fit me properly, but when push comes to shove there are a lot worse things in the world than being average height. What I do have issue with is the insistance of everyone else that I'm abnormally short. I can think of at least four friends who are the exact same height as me. I can think of at least four friends who are much shorter than me.

This leads me to believe that maybe in fact it is you who are the freaks and not me (and my fellow average height friends). Maybe you are all insecure in your tallness. Think about it.

When I organize a marathon...

I hate large crowds. Hate them. I don't do well in them. I require an extraordinary personal space bubble. For example, I nearly passed out at the first concert I ever went to and had to be lifted over the security fence by one of the guards to go sit on the fire escape and get some air. Or how about this one: I've been known to have a panic attack in Walmart on New Year's Day. Full buses, subways and elevators make me uncomfortable. I think you get my point. Honestly, it's amazing I've made it nearly 26 years. That being said, it took a lot for me to spend the day in Chicago on Sunday to watch Mike and Steve run the marathon. Now of course, a few million people weren't going to stop me from watching my baby brother run his first marathon. However, just being a spectator was a challenge in and of itself. (Note, obviously not even a fraction of the challenge Mike faced, but he knows I'm not exaggerating my problems with big crowds.) This was the second time I went down to cheer for a sibling in the Chicago Marathon, and some how it seems Mike and I avoided a lot of the crowds when we watched Meg run a few years ago. However, this year Mom, Meg and I somehow were always down in the trenches of the crowd. I would never want the crowd to be smaller at something like this. These people are running 26.2 miles, and for the last two years that's been 26.2 miles in excruciating heat, particularly for an October morning. They need the million or so people lining the streets. I would need them too. However, there are some common courtesies that should be respected by all spectators to make the experience better for everyone involved - runners and fellow spectators alike.

Bikes: Normally, I would be in full support of people choosing to get around town on their bike over driving. It's good for the earth and good for the body. Everybody wins. However, this is not the case when you are watching a marathon with a large crowd. While standing at the turn right before the halfway point with at least a hundred other people, it came to my attention that no one was standing right up against the guard rail. Why you ask? Well, there were three bikes leaning up against it taking up what probably would have been the space occupied by a three deep crowd of people. That's a good six more people that could have had a better spot. What's worse than just the fact that they were there is the fact that the owners saw their loved ones run by before most of the crowd. So what did they do? Not wait politely for the crowd to thin. They shoved their way through piles of people, bikes in toe. The only upside to this entire situation was that I eventually squeezed my way up to the front of the group, just in time to see Mike run passed. Later near the finish, the crowds were even larger as everyone was making their way back to meet their runners. At some points the sidewalks were jam packed with people and no one was going anywhere. Of course, there were also people with their bikes making the situation worse.

Smoking: What are you kidding me? You are going to light your cigarette/cigar/joint (yes I did smell it) along the course of a marathon where people are running their hearts out, gasping for air. Just what they need is some nice second hand smoke to inhale. Then there is that group of a million people you are standing in as if you were all smooshed into a sardine can. I don't really care if you smoke. You know you are killing yourself. It's addictive; I get it. Just have some decency and common courtesy and go somewhere else or chew some nicorett until the race is done.

Babies: Little Tommy who is 4 or younger is not going to remember watching daddy/mommy/aunt Suzy/the guy down the street run the Chicago Marathon in 2008. The problem with bringing little Tommy: the stroller and all the other equipment involved in lugging around a kid all day. The problem with the strollers is exactly the same as the problem with bikes. There simply is no room for them with this mass amount of people. Plus, no kid can last that long. All of them are either going to end up tired and/or hungry and as a result of both of those, crabby. You'll probably be crabby then too. Leave the kids at home folks.

Dogs:I can't tell you how many dogs I nearly stepped on or tripped over on Sunday. They also get in the way of the crowd. And I'm going to guess all of you proud dog owners out there didn't pick up your "baby's" poo. But, that's a rant for another post.

Regardless of how insane the crowd made me, it was an amazing experience to see Mike run for the first time (and Steve again). His dedication, endurance and desire are an inspiration. I can't even begin to put into words just how proud I am of my baby brother.

Civic duty

For someone who doesn't like to talk about politics, I've been doing a pretty crappy job as of late in that department. Although given the media driven world we live in and the current state of the economy and the election season, it is hard to avoid it these days. But politics isn't what I want to talk about. Voting is what I want to talk about. Every so often at work while we sitting around the big table in the conference room on Mondays waiting for our weekly sales meeting to start the conversation turns to voting. We don't necessarily discuss who we will be voting for, just the actual act of voting. The group is split into three groups: vigilant voters, average voters and non voters.

There is one girl (er woman) who has never voted before in her life!! In her life!! I know, shocking right? Granted she is only 27 so not counting the upcoming election that only allows for 2 presidential election opportunities, but there were plenty of midterm and local elections in there. What gets me even more about this is that the two elections she could have voted in were Bush vs. Gore and Bush vs. Kerry. Those were big elections.

I can remember when I was in third grade we had our own election. I can't remember who won, but looking back I'm slightly embarrassed by my vote. However, as a 9-year-old who came from a family that didn't discuss politics I didn't have much to base a good educated vote. It almost surprises me how clearly I remember the whole event. I know I was sitting in the back of the room of Mrs. Shell's classroom. Mrs. Shell marked the tallies on the chalkboard. We voted by secret ballot. I can remember in the 2000 election being irate that I was one month shy of 18 and couldn't vote. I remember being even more irate when a certain friend clearly felt differently about the outcome of the election than I did.

I can remember the day I registered to vote. I wandered around the LaGrange Village Hall looking for the right office to go to. The woman working was the nicest lady ever. I can remember struggling with having to commit to a party. When all was said and done though I was a registered voter. I walked down the steps of village hall with a little more bounce in my stride.

Over the next month, I'll track down the location of my new polling spot. Hopefully they don't run out of "I Voted" stickers this time around. Maybe I better just go to work late to be safe...

Trivial entertainment

This past Saturday market the first ever Quizmaster Cruise along the Milwaukee River and out into Lake Michigan. For $35 you got a T-shirt, all you could eat Usinger brats, all you can drink beer (geez how Wisconsin is this shindig?), raffle prizes and most importantly trivia...on a boat! The trivia part of the event was the same as it is Monday nights at the Ale House. After handing out a few raffle prizes (our team had two winners! hooray!) the quizing got underway. We were fairly confident in most of our answers but didn't necessarily have high expectations for our finish. Well weren't foolish. After about an hour, we found ourselves in a suddent death round for 2nd place. The question was something about how many miles the London Tube covered. The team with the closest answer won. Well what do you know, we were right! So now the eight of us, and eight more of our closest friends will be enoying a night at the Milwaukee Symphony. Maybe not the ideal prize to have won, but we all sort of get high off of winning so we were thrilled nonetheless. My crowning moment was being able to figure out how many points "quizmaster" would be worth in Scrabble. (For those of you not scrabbley-inclined, it is 30 points.)

The winning doesn't stop there though. Monday night brought us back on land and back to the Ale House for our regular trivia night. This week began another round of league play, and Quizzers with Attitude (that would be us) once again took in the taste of sweet success, in the form of a $50 bar tab. We won the night by a mere point. The stakes are high now for next week. Hopefully we don't fall flat on our faces. But for now, I'm going to enjoy my place at the top of the leaderboard.

I'm a wanderer

July 1st has come and gone, and that means I've once again relocated. Hopefully this time it's for longer than 12 months. It's already feeling more like home than any of the other places I've lived. Maybe it's because it's an old house and it reminds me ever so slightly of the place on Stone, but if that's the case it's a sub conscience thing because the two places are far from similar. Nonetheless, it feels like home to me and I like that feeling. I've had a set of curtains for about two years now. Up until last Friday they never had been removed from the packaging. But, oh happy day, they are hanging proudly in my bedroom now. I even switched out the ugly old lady lace valance that was on the door to the balcony with a nice red one that I had from a previous apartment. Once the couch and new chair comes this place is really going to feel like home.

The places I like are walking distance. The friends I like are walking distance.

My neighbors are an eclectic bunch. There's the scary-looking couple next door who have a few very scary dogs. Although, they might be down one dog. From the yelling I heard on Sunday, it sounds like one is dead now and buried (or its ashes at least) in the back yard. I heard the guy yell "Have some respect that's your brother. Your brother's dead now." Think, "Morgy that's how you killed the last dog!" style.

One of the neighbors on the other side, Neil, is a drummer and has a dog named Ringo. I thought that was cute. He seems like a nice enough and normal guy. I only saw him one morning waiting for the carpool so our interaction was limited seeing as though it was 6:30 a.m. I can hear him playing some times since my windows are always open. It's sort of fun. Maybe one day I'll try to coordinate my piano playing with his drumming. Although, that probably has disaster written all over it. My landlord tells me his wife, Peggy, is very nosey and it's best to not tell her too much. So far I haven't seen her yet. The people who live below Neil watch their TV with the volume ridiculously loud. I can usually hear it when I'm sitting at my computer. Granted the houses are only about 15 ft. apart, but they're downstairs and I'm upstairs...and we're both inside. I haven't actually seen them yet either.

The girl who lives downstairs looks to be about my age and has a 9 year old daughter. So far I've only seen her the night I was moving in. She seemed nice enough though.

Under water

It's been awhile, and my have a lot of things happened. After freaking out that I was going to be homeless at the end of June, I finally found a place. It's the upper of a two-flat, has a nice deck, a garage and a backyard. Should be nice. After Jazz in the Park this week, I'm more than ready to be out of downtown. It's been fun but more it's been sort of irritating more than anything else. I pick up my keys in a few hours. More on this once I've actually made the move. For now I'm living among a combination of packed and empty boxes. It really gives this place a different feel. Also, when all your belongs are packed up, it's very very boring.

Pretty much the entire state of Wisconsin is under water and has been for a couple weeks now. Some of the rivers are finally starting to recede, but everything is still pretty much in horrible shape. It makes me sad every time I see it or read about it. Currently the state has added up $470 million worth of damage. Twenty-two counties have been declared national disaster areas. I can only imagine what it's like for those people in Iowa. Possibly the worst part of all of this is there are people out there posing as FEMA workers trying to scam flood victims. This saddens and disgusts me more than anything else, I think. Just when you start to get warm fuzzies seeing the way communities are all coming together to help each other out and work through this disaster a few people have to go and ruin your perception that there really is good in most people by doing something like this.

There's nothing we can do...but complain

In general, I believe complaining about gas prices is a fruitless activity. There's nothing we can do about it, so we might as well just deal with it. I usually try to buy my gas out near work, where it can be as much as 20 cents cheaper. Unfortunately, I found myself in the city with my gas light on this weekend. I was forced to buy it down town for a the bargain price of $3.97 a gallon! When all was said and done, I pumped a little less than 11.5 gallons for a grand total of $45.50. Yowzers!!

Here are a few things I would have rather spent $45.50 on (in no particular order):
1. Going out to dinner
2. Going to a bar
3. New jeans
4. Groceries
5. 2 haircuts
6. 45 really awesome things from the Dollar Store
7. New CDs
8. New shoes
9. Books
10. Going to a few movies

Three days in the Milwaukee County Courthouse

The following account is almost as good as my night at the Plank Road Walk-in Clinic.

The notice came about two weeks ago; I had been summoned for jury duty. Milwaukee County had finally caught up with all my moving around. I was only summoned as a reserve, so it was possible I wouldn't have to ever step foot in the courthouse. Call Friday, Feb. 22 after 5:30 p.m. the instructions said.

"Reserve jurors with last names starting with M through Z report to the children's court in Wauwatosa at 8:15 a.m. on Monday, Feb. 25. Jurors with lasts names starting with A through L call back at noon on Monday, Feb. 25."

So far I'm in the clear, but the fact that work is an hour away means I still can't go in. I call at exactly noon.

"All jurors report at 1 p.m. at the County Courthouse downtown."

Well, at least I don't have to go all the way out to Tosa, I think. Plus, it's moderately warm out (read: not booger freezing cold) so the walk down there won't be too horrendous. I walk into the juror assembly area, get my "juror" sticker and take a seat amongst the other cattle waiting for their name to be called. I get comfortable, well as comfortable as one can get in a plastic chair with people surrounding them. If nothing else, I'll be able to finish my book finally. I struggle to concentrate on what I'm reading as multiple people see it necessary to call everyone they know and carry on extensive conversations at louder than necessary volumes. The snoring from the woman behind me and the two guys slouched down to my left doesn't help the situation easier. Talk about good people watching though. I'd say a fairly accurate cross section of Milwaukee was represented: the best of us and the worst of us all together in one room where we could get all the free beverages our pallets desired.

An hour after settling in I hear my name. I grab my things and go stand on my number: 21. We are then led to Judge Timothy Dugan's courtroom. The group of 31 settles in, the last 10 of us filling the seats in the audience. Jury selection has begun. We answer all the questions, none of which lend themselves to pretending to be a homophobic racist who hates immigrants and women. Damn. Again a list of names are called and once again Kimberly Kaiser is in the bunch. Fourteen of us, the 12 plus two alternates, remain in the room while the rest of the heard heads back to the assembly area to wait for another round. At this point it is already about 3 p.m. The opening statements are given and that is it for the day. We are told to return at 9:30 a.m. the following morning.

The next day quite possibly the most non diverse jury to ever rule gathers in the jury room. The courthouse is probably the best looking building in Milwaukee. The outside is amazing, and the inside is equally as impressive. Once you enter the jury room, a flight of stairs above the courtroom, this is no longer the case. The walls are bare. There is a cumbersome table with 12 chairs around it. Two additional chairs sit in the corners. There is a coat rack on one wall. Atop the coat rack sits a mountain of old magazines, two spare rolls of toilet paper, old water bottles and some random papers. A few of us make small talk, but for the most part we stare off into space or flip through magazines in which we have no interest. Finally, about half an hour late, we are called into the courtroom. For about the next two hours we listen to the testimony of the plaintiff and her sister. We hear them both flat out say the driver (the plaintiff) was not paying attention. The story, complete with tears, has holes and frankly is not overly believable. Although there is truth to it, I'm skeptical at best. We break for lunch. Most of us go down to the cafeteria and eat together. Strangers become, in a sense, friends. We will spend a total of 14 hours together so we might as well get comfortable.

We return to the courtroom to watch a video deposition for the plaintiff's doctor. It is boring. It is pointless. It takes a long time. We break. Fifteen minutes later we return for the defendants testimony, which will require the use of a translator. Awesome. The translator is less than impressive and a very broken down version of the defendant's side of the accident given. This story has even more holes than the plaintiff and her sister's. The stories don't match up. The only consistency is that both agree they didn't see each other, which is highly unlikely given all other circumstances. After cross-examination we break again. Finally, the lawyers both give their closing arguments. Neither is very convincing, both are bad speakers, both irritate me.

The plaintiff's lawyer is asking for $12,000-18,000 in compensation for the girl's pain and suffering. At this point, I nearly fall off my chair. You want $18,000 because your neck was sore from a little whiplash for (so you claim) six weeks. I don't think so. The defense lawyer isn't much better, although he suggests a much more reasonable $1,000 for pain and suffering.

Six questions must be answered:
1. Prior to or at the time of the accident was (whatever the defendant's name was) negligent?
2. Did this negligence cause the accident?
3. Prior to or at the time of the accident was the plaintiff negligent?
4. Did the negligence cause the accident?
5. If you answered yes to both 2 and 4, what percentage (adding up to 100) was each responsible for?
6. What amount if any should be awarded for:
a. medical costs
b. damage to vehicle (decided by court)
c. pain and suffering

We quickly and easily answer the first four questions in full agreement; yeses across the board. Question 5 we eventually come to a 5/6 agreement on as 60-40. We all agree all medical costs incurred were legitimate and should be paid in full (approximately $5k). Pain and suffering is another story. Some say as high as $10k and some say as low as zero. I compromise my true belief and say $1k, as the defense saw this as a fair amount. As 5 p.m. is nearly, the court clerk comes up to ask us what time we want to return the following day. We won't be wrapping this up in a day like we all anticipated.

At 9 a.m. the next morning we all file into our jury room. The barren white walls envelope us for what will be another 2 and a half hours. We revisit question five. Some of us, myself included, have had a change of heart. Good arguments are made. Bad arguments are made. Down right ridiculous and unfounded arguments are made. We still have two dissenting jurors, but because I agree to some one's half joking compromise of 55-45, I am able to convince the other 8 to come down from 60. Now on to the money question. No one has really budged on this one. And no one is able to make a strong case for why it should be one amount over the other. Finally, we agree to average all the numbers together and come up with $3,300. Although not happy with the result, I acknowledge that we are never going to agree on an amount and accept it.

Overall the experience was good I suppose. However, it took a lot of will power not to throw things at certain jurors heads or swear a lot. Among some of those most irritating aspects was the tendency among many of the other jurors to keep going back to insurance companies and how they just want money. Ironically, when we had our little follow up question and answer session with the judge, he told us the insurance company had nothing to do with the lawsuit and the plaintiff was behind it not them. Interesting. I think insurance companies are difficult to deal with as much as the next person, but it was clear they had nothing to do with the case so why dwell on it? I'm pretty sure I walked out of the room with most of the people thinking I was cold and heartless, but I guess I'm OK with that.

I believed it when I walked into the room and I believe it now: money doesn't make the pain go away.

The $41 check for my civic duty is in the mail, I got two free bus passes and walked 9 miles this week (far more exercise than a normal week sadly), so it looks like I came out on top despite not being overly pleased with the results.

You are the salt of the earth

Salt. Can't live with it; can't live without it. During the course of a normal winter I would be cursing the salt on the streets, on the sidewalks and half way up every pair of pants I own. During the course of a normal winter, I would be thinking the city could calm down a little with the salt and maybe try getting rid of some of the snow with a plow instead of relying so heavily on salt. But this isn't a normal winter.

There was a story in the Journal-Sentinel this week about rising salt prices. Rising salt prices, can you even believe it? The story took the shape of the stories we see on a semi-daily basis in the summer months about rising gas prices. Cities and counties are running out of salt left and right. It's making it for a very treacherous city/state to walk and drive around in. I nearly wipe out on ice walking at least twice a day, without fail. The only benefit from all of it is how good I've gotten at catching my balance and walking off the near fall as if nothing had happened.

Who would ever think anyone would ever care about the rising cost of rock salt? Again, this isn't a normal winter. Rising salt prices is actually something to be concerned about this winter. Cities can barely afford to keep crews on the road to keep the roads clean, and I use the word clean extremely loosely. Garbage pickup has been canceled on more than one occasion in Milwaukee this year so that more workers can be working on taking care of the snow. Basically, a civics nightmare. People are giving city hall a lot of flack for how they are dealing with this season's snow fall. Maybe they haven't noticed that we've gotten nearly 80 inches of snow this winter compared to the norm of 33 inches and last winters mere 22 inches. There's only so much you can do with that snow.

What I find the most interesting of all of this is that earlier in the winter I read a story in the Journal-Sentinel about the top items that are unloaded off of ships at the Port of Milwaukee. What's No. 1 you ask? Why, it's rock salt! You can't plan irony like that.

Snow, snow go away...but don't come again some other day

Today in the Journal-Sentinel there was a story about the exceptionally snowy winter we've experienced this season. Having not lived under a rock for the past two and a half months, I was aware of the fact that we had gotten a lot, A LOT, of snow. However, I was really surprised when I read this. Milwaukee has been bombed with 65.7 inches of snow this winter. That's twice as much as the average of 33 inches, and last year at this time we had only gotten a measly 22 inches. Let's put this into perspective. If we hadn't been blessed with a few unseasonably warm days, the occasional sunshine and some spots of rain, the snow would be an inch above my head. And that's if it wasn't plowed at all. I can only imagine what the height of snow hills would be.

If the latest pounding of an unbearable amount of snow wasn't hard enough, temperatures are about to plummet. Tomorrow it's back to the frigid single digits we experienced a few weeks ago, and once again with wind chills falling into double digit subzero numbers. That's a lot of stress on the human body. Snow, blizzard conditions, rain, sleet, hail, tornadoes, sunshine and temps in the 50s: we've seen it all this winter.

I've never been more ready for winter to be over in my entire life. Maybe I sound like I'm being over dramatic, but you know what? I don't really care. I'm ready to replace the shovel in my trunk with a cooler. I'm ready for it to be unbearably hot in the apartment instead of unbearably cold. I am ready for summer.

Mother Nature, you're a cruel cruel woman.

We haven't been hit hard with a bad winter for awhile. Despite having a negative winter experience nice and early last winter to turn me off from the season forever, overall the winter of 2006-07 wasn't too bad. This winter, however, hit us hard. Right now I can't see out my window as a result of either blowing snow, a snowblower or a combination of the two. The entire city is more or less shut down. When it finally ends, we're expected to have upward of 16 inches...and that's not the first big snow of the season. Last week, I walked out my front door into snow that went almost up to my knee. Every time the snow comes, it comes heavy and it comes fast.

Now that is is February, I've had plenty of time to reflect on my feelings toward winter. The conclusion I have come to is this: I only need one month of winter. I like that there is snow for a little while. I like that it gets cold. I do not like a grand total of 50+ inches of snow; I do not like sub-zero temperatures (and that is without the wind chill my friends). Why do I stick around then you ask? Well I guess all of you people I call my family and friends are why I stick around. What I can't get my head around is why for the how ever many years our families have resided in this area of the country they decided to stay. Do we just like the pain that much? I for one am over it completely. Send me somewhere that gets a little hint of winter and that's it. I'm done getting stuck in the snow. I'm done with having my boogers freeze the minute I walk outside. I'm done with near accidents because the roads are slick and my tires are crap. I'm done with winter.

Thank God for the few "heat waves" we've experienced this winter that have miraculously always melted most of the snow before the next big storm hits us.

Mother Nature, you can stop this cruel joke now.