Dear Milwaukee, Why Do You Smell Like Wet Dog?

Dear Milwaukee,

My husband and I have enjoyed getting to know you and we like you very much; however we have one question: why do you smell like wet dog? It is a rather odd aroma seeing that we don't live so close of the lake that we would be able to smell the dogs that jump into it, plus I would be expecting to smell fish if that were the case. To my knowledge none of the apartments in our area allow pets, and every pup I have seen since coming to the city has been dry as a bone. So where is this smell coming from?!? Here is my theory, please correct me if I an wrong.

There is a large, wet, uncatchable pooch wandering about. His name is Roger and he likes to fetch things out of the water and return them to their rightful owner. Everyday Roger trots down to the waterfront and searches for something to pull out: a pop can, cigarette butt, flip-flop, etc. Then once he has the item, he runs all over the city until he finds the owner of the discarded item. This of course would explain two things. First, and wet dog smell. And secondly, the clean waterfront.

Milwaukee, I'm not sure if I would like you to catch Roger since he is doing a great service to Lake Michigan; however, if you do see him, please give him a bath.

Thank you and please correct me if I am wrong about the smell.

Sincerely, Jamie

Skyline

Snow-flaked?

There is always a learning curve when moving to an new place. You have to relearn where the good places to eat are, what there is to do on the weekends, where all the different stores are, etc. Plus there are always little oddities that catch you off guard.

The first one were the bike lanes. Coming from Erie I didn't expect there to be so many. And I also didn't expect them to appear and disappear like they do. Jeremy and I were biking around our second full day in Milwaukee, getting a little lost mind you, and decided that we wanted to turn right onto some road. Instantly I had an "oh crap" moment as I realized we were about to go over an interstate look bridge, but much to my surprise a bike lane appeared. It's like the city put them in areas where bikers really need them and the rest of the time they assume a biker and hold their own.

The second oddity we encountered happened today while at the grocery store. Nothing new or exciting, just buying food. We went up to the deli to buy some lunch meat and I asked the guy behind the counter for a pound of shaved smoked turkey. He then reached into the case and pulled some out - clearly not shaved. After placing it on the scale I asked if we could get it cut any thinner and he replied, "oh, do you want it snow-flaked?" and put the "shaved" lunch meat back into the case and proceeded to cut us some "snow-flaked smoked turkey". It ended up being exactly what we wanted, but how would we have ever guessed that "snow-flaked" in Milwaukee means "shaved". Weird. I think we might have to ask around to verify that this is an actual term that is used.

Impressions of Milwaukee

After driving over 550 miles where I traversed through three major cities full of innumerable 'potential hazards', I decided to save my 'accident' for the last five feet of the journey: I backed our moving truck into our neighbor's parked car. Thankfully she wasn't in the automobile (because she was in Georgia) and no one was injured. I was all alone when it happened and initially concluded that I had 'roofed' the truck on a low-lying branch, as the sounds of "CRUUUNCH" and "CRAAACK" were more like that of a stressed out tree than of a car; however, much to my horror, I was not parked under a tree, nor were there any falling leaves to be accounted for. Instead, there was a 2008 black Ford Focus with newly-formed scratches and a gigantic hole in the bumper. My stomach churned and my excitement at finally having arrived at our new destination was as ephemeral as the taste on some cheap gum. I didn't want to move. I didn't want to speak. And I sure as hell didn't want to call a girl--whom I had never met in my life--to tell her that I had just wrecked my 16' moving truck into the front of her sporty, cute college-girl car. I had to, and I did. Thankfully she was in Georgia at the time of the 'disaster' and was unable to slug me in the face upon listening to my wavering, completely embarrassed voice inform her that she will (most likely) need a new bumper upon her arrival back from summer break.

So, there it was. The first impression I made on Milwaukee was indeed a damaged up bumper and an insurance claim. Awesome.

After the initial 'bang' of our arrival in the city, Jamie and I have attempted to get to know the city on a more intimate level by riding around it on our bikes. Half expecting the roads to be as treacherous, if not more treacherous, than in Erie, I was initially a little timid to take my bike out on Wisconsin Ave. (the main thoroughfare) with buses and cars whizzing past my ear. Yet, to my astonishment, no one honked at me; no one verbally accosted me through their window; no one felt the need to rev their engine behind me. In fact, I was even given space on the road on which to ride, which was supplemented by real BIKE LANES that extend all over the downtown area of the city. Numerous times while riding my bike yesterday, I had a slight panic attack, as I turned down a concrete-paved road that looked more like a freeway than a road, and thought to myself, "Uh-oh, THIS road is surely not made for bikes.", only to find that just as I'm about to turn around and go another way, a bike lane appears. It seemed to me that I could ride literally over the ENTIRE city without ever having to be on a road that wasn't meant for bikes. It is such a refreshing change from the danger and complete ignorance of what I had found last year through my travels down Parade St. and State St. in Erie.

My cell phone has been ringing nonstop since my arrival, and I must admit that it's driving me absolutely insane. I really do believe that I've received more calls this past week than I would in a month in Erie. It wouldn't be so bad if those calls were coming from friends and family, but they aren't, they are the product of numerous confused tennents who live in the apartment building that I manage: "Um, could you let me in (at 12:00am)? I seem to have forgotten my key.", "The Internet man is coming to install cable into my room this morning at 10:30. Could you be there for me?", "Sorry for the inconvenience, however, I'm not going to be moving in today. How about tomorrow? Time!?! Oh, sorry, I don't know exactly when I'll be in." So is the life....

The last thing I'll mention is that I've recently become very aware of my own insecurities about going back to graduate school. I must admit that I'm not so sure I made the right decision, and I'm also not sure that what I'm about to study is REALLY what I'm interested in. I'm reading book after book just to get through them, as I have twenty-four of them total. It's been a hard battle to keep the 'Institution' in perspective, and I'm thankful for the Fellowship and the job at the Adult Learning Center for that reason: I can only read so many books that talk quite arrogantly about the problems of academe that make one believe that actually not getting your paper published in a journal is an ACTUAL problem; I know that what I'll be seeing at the Adult Learning Center will put "academic problems" into a crucible where they are to be ridiculed. I know that my worth doesn't come from being the best student or having an excellent seminar paper. I just have to keep reminding myself this as the year progresses. Ugh, I wish I had some stronger self confidence.....

New Place, New Name

Yes, we are on the move again. Off on another adventure, so we are closing the chapter of "Life on the 'e'" and opening a new one: "Milwaukee's Best". Enjoy.

Moving

Boxes are piled high to the ceiling and the dust bunnies that have hidden beneath the bed for the past year, are coming out into the open, only to alight on my skin, making me break out in rashes, hives and unpleasent bouts of sneezing.

For the past few days I've been in a rather reflective mood, as I come to terms with the unknown that is Milwaukee/Marquette University and the realization that I won't be seeing any of my Pittsburgh or Erie friends for quite some time. I wish I could sit back and leave without feeling the slightest hint of remorse or sadness, but I can't. A few years ago I would have relegated my nostalgic and sorrowful tendencies to the realm of "being scared of the unknown"; however, today, I realize it's the fear of being seperated from my established community that has me most at odds with myself.

I received a phone call today from my new 'boss' in Milwaukee and was informed that I must be in the apartment building at exactly 10:00am on Tuesday, August 16th, for the installation of internet into apartment number 11. I informed the woman on the other line that I was still in Pennsylvania and that Tuesday will only be my second day in the apartment, to which she responsded, "Yeah, the manager told me...(silence)...well, I'll expect to see you there on Tuesday for your first job." Looks like work will start RIGHT away.

I spent one of my last nights in Erie riding mountain bikes with my friend Paul. It was quite the fitting way to close my year, as all the way back in September I had met Paul while riding my pervious bike (which was stolen in November) on the trails of Asbury Woods Park. I was quite nervous to pick up mountian biking again, as I myself am more partial to road riding, yet I found the three hours in the woods to be completely enjoyable, challenging and quite dangerous. I was not very confident in regards to my own handling of the bike as I careened down into ravines, attempting to miss the protruding rocks and roots that were in my way, but I decided to hit each hill like it was my last, and I ignored my initial tendancy to be timid and fearful of the obstacle directly in front of me. In a very romantic and cliched way, I viewed my final mountian bike trip like my next life in Milwaukee: I know I'm not confident in my skills, nor am I really ready to proceed head-long into the precipice that is graduate school, but I'm going to do it anyway, and I'm going to hold on tight for the ride. I know that I'll bleed, get scraped up and fall into the mud along the way; however, I know I'll survive the trip to ride home, confident, strong and hungry. Hell, maybe I'll even eat the cream-filled donut I indulged in yesterday upon arriving back from my mountian bike excursion? Who knows.