You can tell it's spring in Milwaukee when you can see curb.~from a morning broadcast on WLUM last week

As every soul in Milwaukee is probably thinking, it's so good to see the white of winter disappear. Not only can we see curb, we can see grass as well.

What a difference that makes to me. It means hope, hope that the world will erupt in green soon, hope that before long we'll be outside more than in, hope that my isolation will end.

My Polish ancestors supposedly settled in Milwaukee as the area reminded them of their homeland. And it is beautiful. I love to drive through the Wisconsin countryside more than any other state. (Virginia is second.) But as far as the climate goes-my Polish DNA must end there. I am not cut out for these long, bitter winters. My French DNA must be dominant there.

Speaking of spring, spring break begins for us tomorrow. Saturday we'll attend a family class in karate. (Have fun imagining my lack of coordination Saturday afternoon.) Next week we'll go to Lake Geneva for a night. A hotel on Lake Delavan had a great spring break special for a two bedroom, two bath suite. With the full kitchen, we'll eat in mostly, swim a lot, and get away for pretty cheap. J's first time swimming-it ought to be fun.

And it's time for spring cleaning, which I've already begun. Time to put the pass-on's on the newly visible curb...