We are in a state of mourning over the loss of Mykonos, our local Greek take-out joint. Just three blocks away. It satisfied the occasional adolescent craving for, well, a little bit of grease. Gyros, spanakopita, garlic potatoes and pitas pitas pitas. It even got an obit of sorts from the local paper's food writer. The family that ran it for decades felt the time was right, reportedly. Hopefully, someone will buy the place and recreate it, if only for the convenience of the Olson/Vospers.
I took a bike ride a couple days ago, a sunny afternoon in the mid-40s. It was fun for a while, till I hit the New Berlin Trail. Out there in the hinterland the pavement was strewn with patches of diabolical ice. I rolled over what I could, then walked, pushed with one leg, cursed. I was going to meet Ms. V at a movie way out in Delafield. Already a bad idea. Finally -- and get this, all you macho riders -- I called her to rescue me.
I'm not proud.
And we never did make the movie.
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Sorry for your loss. What movie?
ReplyDeleteIce is diabolical. No matter how careful you are, in a blink you have fallen and broken your collar bone. No shame in walking or getting a ride.
ReplyDelete