Spring break begins

Unlike T. S. Eliot, March is the cruelest month for me, not April. March is a grading frenzy building to a crescendo in the week before spring break with 66 exams and the second part of 42 lab papers. (Because we have started observing Martin Luther King Day, Monday’s lab is a week behind; I will have those papers coming in as soon as we resume classes.) I finished the second batch of lab papers Friday morning. By Saturday, I was willing to consider the possibility that everyone in my life was not solely motivated by a desire to piss me off. I suspect I’ve been a bit cranky.

It’s been a dreary few days here. The rain and fog in combination with warmer temperatures have turned the grass green. It is a welcome sight.

Green grass 

Hilda found a surprise in the Little Red Hen Barn Saturday morning. One of the silver crested hens laid a tiny egg! So who was right? They weren’t laying because of the bullying. There was another full-sized egg this morning.

A tiny white egg in the Little Red Hen Retirement Home on Saturday morning

I waited too long to make Grand Plans for spring break. By the time the semester was in full spring, I could think only of surviving. Consequently, the only plans I had for spring break a week ago was taking Terry for a colonoscopy and having my mammogram. Some fun now!

I have been finding some things to do now that the pressure is off. It rained off and on all day Saturday. I took the day to relax, even going so far as having a nap in the afternoon. I remembered why I don’t nap when I woke up listless and headachy. I rallied, however, and Terry and I went to Art and Alma’s Century Inn in Burlington to celebrate Terry’s birthday (which was last Monday). 

Art and Alma's Century Inn in Burlington

It was our first time. Kate’s boyfriend, Pat, manages the restaurant for his father. They don’t take reservations on the weekend, so we got there early, just before 5:00. We were just in the nick of time, as it turned out. I thought maybe since it was so wet and gloomy, everyone would stay home. On the contrary, everyone came early to beat the rush. We were seated immediately at a wobbly table for two. By the time I had my coat off, the line was to the door.

The vibe of Art and Alma’s was very Wisconsin Supper Clubby. The first part of the building opened as a tavern in 1908. The wooden bar extends almost from one end to the other. A wall separates the bar area from a narrow dining area. Two more small dining rooms extend toward the back. The walls wer decorated with dead animals and photos of historic Burlington.

We ordered glasses of wine, and the server brought some freshly baked soft bread with melted butter brushed liberally on the top. All the entrees included a trip to the salad bar. The table was set with ice-cold plates. We had to wait behind four extremely poky people to get to said salad bar, but it was worth it. There was the traditional iceberg lettuce, of course, and a bowl of baby spinach along with the usual salad toppings—chopped hard-boiled egg, bacon bits (real), grated cheese, radishes, cherry tomatoes, grated carrots, onions, and probably some other stuff I’m forgetting. And then there were pickled beets, pasta salad, pea salad, three bean salad, cottage cheese, etc. The only thing that Wisconsin would have had that wasn’t there was pickled herring. No loss as far as I am concerned. They also had cheese spread, which I ate with cellophane-wrapped breadsticks. I love cellophane-wrapped breadsticks. They remind me of when we went out the Fancy Restaurants when I was a child. In the 60’s, nothing said fine dining like a basket full of cellophane-wrapped breadsticks and crackers. Living large, baby.

There was some kind of cream soup, too, but we had steaks and potatoes coming. When I said hello to Pat, he offered us a complementary appetizer, which I declined on the same principle.

While we waited for our entrees, I watched the couple at the next table desperately try to engage their teenaged son in conversation. He slumped in his chair and answered tersely as if he were being interrogated. Which I guess he was.

Terry had the 16-ounce “Darn Good Ribeye” (the other two sizes were 24 and 32 ounces) with crispy potato pancakes. His steak filled the whole plate. It would be enough for dinner and two lunches. I had an 8-ounce “stuffed premium filet, choose any three”, of which I chose bleu cheese, sautéed mushrooms and sautéed onions. I had the Special House Potato, which Kate described as a cheesy potato casserole. My filet had been cut crosswise to make two pieces about 1.5” thick. The bleu cheese had been liberally applied to the bottom piece and the mushrooms and onions strewn on top. I assumed the top had been artfully arranged at an angle to the bottom until the waitress apologized for it having tipped off. In any case, it was delicious, even though I could not even eat half. Really, we’d had enough to eat when we were done with the salad. We did not have dessert.

Jane and I took Mom and Dad shopping on Sunday. Of the four of us, only Jane had been to the new Duluth Trading Post store in Hoffman Estates. We picked Sunday because the Culver’s just down from Duluth Trading Post had Hershey Almond Fudge (my personal favorite) as its flavor of the day. We had lunch first, then shopped. When we were done at Duluth, we went down the road a bit to L. L. Bean and Sur le Table. And then we went home. It pretty much took the whole day.

Hilda invited Terry and me upstairs for shrimp burgers Sunday night. I suggested we have champagne to celebrate the beginning of spring break. We had a nice time, but I ate too much again. I sense a theme here, and it must stop soon.

Today was pretty normal. I worked on cleaning out the store room. I finally threw out my massive slide collection. It is a technology of another era. It’s hard to part with something that took so long to assemble, so many miles of travel, so much money for film and processing, so many hours cataloging and putting together by lecture topic. Sigh. I have been moving that paper box (as in box for a 10-ream case of paper) around for more than 20 years. I will never, ever need them again. Say goodbye.