Tom grew up in Milwaukee, bartended in Wauwatosa in the '70s and moved here in 1984.
Commentary, observations and musings about the outdoors, life in general and maybe Tosa politics and personalities will be the order of the day. He savors a lively debate as much as terrific cooking.
After letting the girls out at half-time Jill announced:
I know now that the Packers are going to win.
Huh? How do you know? How are you so sure?
Because the gold lights on the Packer tree on the porch finally came on.
Sure enough, Having been hung following the Christmas holiday the green Packer lights worked just fine. The gold Packer lights, not so much. No amount of jiggling, unplugging, replugging and shaking could get them to light. Then all of a sudden they turned themselves on. All by themselves. It was a milagro, of sorts.
Nevertheless, in the face of San Francisco's relentless offensive onslaught, following on the heels of a couple of fatal Packer mistakes the juju was too little. And too late.
The mighty Packers got the dagger.
Packer Super Bowl salsa anybody? I have extra...