Who are the Magnificent Seven? Not movie actors, but other heroes such as local teachers, who are given their due today

The assets of being an educator are accessible up on the hill, and you don’t even have to run through the Mill, although you can do so if you like:
— Teachers deserve a (possibly late night) break, so during their appreciation day, on Tuesday, they get a free magnificent seven breakfast at Perkins (although not while they are in class). Lord knows they have put in too many sleepless wee hours grading tests and the like. Not that they don’t like to go out and kick their heals up and party on occasion, but the majority of those I have known have bunched the late-night dancing gig because they are fearful of having the parents of one of their students see them in a situation that could be viewed as compromising. Or they won’t come over and say hello to a journalist like myself for fear of that information going in the newspaper! (No need to worry about that from me, as you have a blank check … so to speak.)
— And when it comes to serving youth, there is this offering from Buffalo Wild Wings, which will benefit young athletes in need through burning your tonsils. A total of $1 will be given to charities such as equipment for youthful athletes when you buy a bottle. Not of beer, but one of their specialty sauces, and a recommendation of their blazin’ sauce has been made. And go across the street to Green Mill for a special of four-cheese breakfast pizza. But you can always quench that hot taste on your lips with a Mountain Dew, which is the focus of a different charitable effort for tending to weather ravaged countries, called Team Rubicon. Call it rebuilding through caffeine and sugar.

Share the Post:

Related Posts

A hodgepodge listing of everything that’s truly different but maybe baked porage follows, and we’re not talking about a connect-the-dots or puzzle-pieces contest or one on Trump’s foreign policy, haha, rather what I saw and what will be seen around town in recent times. Mostly, one of each. Think you have the world’s, or more likely local church’s, best grilled cheese sandwich, (coming from the land of, specifically, well curded and curdled milk and honey?) Fry it to the test on Saturday. No this is not an autumn chili cookoff, or char the best burger, or even a poker run...
Music in the trees? It conjures up images of a poet wearing millenniums-ago robe and sandals while playing a lute and propped onto the fourth fork of a bigger-than-usual apple tree and doing a balancing act on his ass while he sings a soliloquy or a soffit. Maybe taking a bite in-between verses, to match what listeners chomped on if they hauled it in down long nature paths, making for dinner and a show with duos and trios, and one huge and elaborate band. Well didn’t quite get that lute-ist. Or a bassist so high on life and so-forth stoned...
Questions everywhere? These days, how do you dismiss an ad or a politician, or whoever or whatever pops up and occupies your computer screen, or mailbox, electronic or otherwise? And did that answer in the form of a package or letter or even air waves — coming from a pol or a pool? — ever actually arrive, like all those ads and flyers? Maybe it never will? And surely not written with a quill. As one friend just reminded me, it all starts with one problem leading into another set of problems. Or, like a volcano boiling and brewing and...
Hey today they threw it all back to you, as it is election day, and with it the last Badger gasp — if least if they’re our candidates — (is that the throaty noise they make?), with a soar-throated, campaign-trail rasp made by an audio-version plethora of last-minute flyers that fill our boxes with hopes to grasp, so we can check their boxes when we go to the polls and pick a (partial) winner to move on to full November midterms. Less then the Trump-triumphed manhandling our mailboxes got however, in the last election of this type. Those worn, creaking...
Scroll to Top