In the Driftless area of SW Wisconsin, in the heart of the Kickapoo River Valley, is the little Norwegian village of Westby. In the little village of Westby is a little cafe. And in the little cafe is a chef who makes the BEST hamburgers in America. You can argue with me, but I have a First Amendment Right to say that, and besides, I suspect it's true. Just as I stated that The Cricketers Pub in Canterbury has the best fish & chips in England. Prove me wrong. I accept airfare.
ANYway, Borgen's is an institution. It's been there as long as I can remember, although sadly, it did close for a while. But now it has opened under new management and offers the most amazing hamburgers. They're delicious, tender, crispy on the outside (I'm a huge fan of crispy, and if I keep eating those hamburgers each time I'm down there, I'll probably be a huge fan, full stop!) I think they make the hamburger buns in house, they always serve it with lettuce, tomato, and a dill pickle. I recommend it highly. Worth the trip to Wisconsin. I would tell you about their other food too, but the hamburger is so good that I order it every single time. I do order the 3 oz. Senior Burger and I do give most of my crispy French fries to Mr. C., so that helps, I think. Doesn't it?
In the photo above is a stack of antique Bibles, two in Norwegian and one in Danish. All were found by Mr. C. on job sites where buildings were being demolished. It's also why we have about 36 slate blackboards. I can't bear to see actual slate blackboards destroyed.
The encyclopedias are from the late 1800's, and I shouldn't tell you that when I was a kid, (and yes, they were already old then!) I cut a picture of Abraham Lincoln out of one of them for a school report. I don't think I've ever cut another picture from a book again - ever. In fact, I have only recently been able to bring myself to throw away any hardcover books. Some go to my children, some books go to Goodwill, and some books are worthy only of the dumpster (a tiny category).
The little black onyx (or maybe just black glass, but I've always thought he was onyx) dog once belonged to my older brother, but he didn't care about it, or at least didn't notice that it went missing back when I was about 12. Poor little Scottie has a broken foot and one broken ear that he suffered when he fell onto the cast iron Home Comfort cookstove in our kitchen.
Lastly, is an antique telephone. It doesn't have settings or apps or a gallery. I think that use of the phone pictured, other than as an intercom between the barn and house on the farm when I was growing up, predates even my youth, buried in the sands of time though that may be. But until I was seven years old, we did have a wall phone that you had to crank like that, so... Anyway, our ring was 3 longs and 1 short, I think. It was on a party line, which meant everyone on the line (all the neighbors) heard everyone else's phone ringing, and everyone always knew everyone else's business - a lot like Facebook, actually.
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