Maple Nut Prufrock

I had a nice visit to Madison, but I have to confess that as I walked into the crowded party Saturday night, I thought, Are you serious? Did I really come halfway across the country to attend yet another party at which I know only the host? It wasn't quite the elegant, flowing affair I'd imagined, but it was fine. I think my friend was touched that I came.

The highlight of the weekend for me had been earlier that day when I attended the Sugar Maple Festival, an all-day (actually, two-day) outdoor festival of country, folk, and traditional music. I was particularly excited to have accidentally timed my trip just right to see a singer I like a lot and had never seen live before, Robbie Fulks. He kicked off the afternoon in an authentic, unpretentious, yet passionate way. A really good local Celtic band, West Wind, totally won me over, particularly the mesmerizing voice of one the singers, Josh Perkins; unfortunately, the group doesn't appear to have a CD.

As planned, I did have lots of ice cream (orange custard chocolate chip, maple nut, chocolate mint flake) and took a several-mile-long walk around Lake Monona. And Madison has the most amazing farmers' market. It completely encircles the Capitol building. But the city boy in me did start to get a little impatient with the slooowww pace of foot traffic -- which they can hardly be blamed for: You want to stop at every cheese, baked-good, flower, and produce stand. Unless you just . . . want . . . to . . . get . . . out . . . of . . . the . . . crowd -- and move.

Sigh. I was really glad to get home. It was a little too quiet there. I like where I live.

***

Get this -- I actually finished a book: Songs Without Words by Ann Packer. It's officially being published in September. I loved her first novel, The Dive From Clausen's Pier, which came out five years ago, and still recommend it to people. This new one was a little harder to get into, if just as well written, and I put it down for a few weeks, picking it up again on my trip. It's largely about women's friendship -- which makes it maybe chick literature, not to be confused with chick lit -- but it's also about marriage and parenthood and sadness and working your way out of all the muck, even the muck you'll never understand.

Here's a short passage I liked, about a husband and wife whose relationship has been strained after their teenage daughter's attempted suicide:

"He said, 'Something smells delicious.'

"She said, 'Just chicken.'

"This was how they often talked these days, in code. He had just told her that he was not disinclined to see her in a favorable light, and she had replied that that might be true, but that he hadn't convinced her."