I've lived in Madison during my very early childhood and the end of my young adulthood, if that makes sense; my parents met and married here, and they've lived here until I was 5, and then again since I was 16.  This is the city in which I've spent the most time, and I'm thankful--it's a great city to grow up in.  There are plenty of things that annoy me about Madison--drunken asshat frat boys, all the goddamn fucking hippies, the proliferation of pretentious (but fine, delicious) "gastropubs" (why don't you just call it a fucking bar that serves food?  Because you want to feel all special, that's why), the tininess, the four-at-most degrees of separation between me and everyone else in my age group who resides here, the fact that there is no Chinatown...I could go on.

But you know what?  It's not as cool and busy and huge as New York or San Francisco or whatever, but Madison fucking rocks.  It's consistently rated one of the "best places to live," although this year we got beat out by Middleton, one of our lame-ass suburbs.  Our public schools are some of the best in the country (especially considering our property taxes aren't as high as other districts of like quality), our farmers market is the largest producers-only one in North America (yep, that's right, Canada can suck it, too!), and UW-Madison is no humble ag school like one can be forgiven for assuming about Wisconsin colleges, but a top-notch research center, home to some of the best and the brightest.  Our per-capita crime rate is low, and our average education level high.  Even though the rest of Wisconsin is quite conservative, we help vote in folks like Russ Feingold and Tammy Baldwin (you're welcome!).  

Here are my favorite things about Madison:

1) The Memorial Union Terrace.     

On a nice balmy summer night, there is nowhere else I would rather be.  Their beer hall, the Rathskeller, has a bajillion Wisconsin microbrews on tap for relatively cheap.  There are hundreds of tables and even more people, the breeze from the lake is lovely, and the bands--when they're playing--usually don't suck too much.  Mostly, though, I love going here for the company and the atmosphere--very convivial and very...content.  And like I said, the beer is good, too.  Which brings me to....

2) The beer.  I said it in another post, but god, DAMN Wisconsin beer is awesome, and Madison bars' drink specials are generous.  The Vintage, a campus bar, does domestic microbrews for a dollar every Monday night, and if you ask me, there is no better end to the beginning of the week than a couple pints of Fat Squirrel or Spotted Cow and a raucous game of Asshole on the patio.  My favorite Wisconsin brews are New Glarus' Dancing Man Wheat, a hefeweizen brewed with cinnamon and cloves; Ale Asylum's Hopalicious, which is citrusy and hoppy without being too astringent; Capital Brewery's Autumnal Fire, a seasonal Oktoberfest beer with which I was finally reunited (and it feels so good!) today; and Great Dane's Emerald Isle Stout.  There are so many more, though, so you should come check them out!

I'll even save a spot on the couch for your drunk ass. 

3) The Dane County farmers' market.  Saturday morning feels empty in winter because of the market's absence; from mid-November to April, lines and lines of farmers, dairies, bakers, and meat vendors line the square surrounding the state Capitol (which, incidentally, more closely resembles our nation's capitol building than any other state capitol in the country.  Once again, we rule).  Other farmers' markets may be larger in terms of area or number of stalls, but Madison's does not allow secondhand retailers and is still huge.  I love going there because every farmer, baker, cheesemaker, whatever, is passionate about and deeply proud what they make or grow and happy to chat with you about it.  And they should be--everything I've ever bought there has been amazing.  Right now is the best time for it, too--melons, peppers, eggplants, cucumbers, berries, spinach, heirloom tomatoes, and mushrooms are everywhere.  

What you do in Madison on summer Saturdays is get up around 8 AM or so (yeah, it's a little early, whatever), and go down to the Square.  Grab some coffee at one of the coffee carts (roasted in the city and locally owned) to wake up, and then just browse around the market.  Grab a box of sungold tomatoes, a box of raspberries, another thing of coffee (beer isn't the only thing we brew well here!), and a loaf of Stella's Hot Spicy Cheese Bread, preferably with burnt cheese bits hanging out of the sides.  Sit in the grass and eat and drink and watch people, then do the week's grocery shopping the rest of the way around.  Combined with a few pints and good conversations at the Terrace on Friday night, it's the best start a weekend could possibly have.

4) Deep-fried cheese curds.  

These little morsels of artery-clogging, waistline-expanding deliciousness are one of the best parts of living in the Dairy State.  For those of you not in the know (i.e. those of you who have never been to The 'Scon), it's just a cheese curd rolled around in flour and thrown in a deep-frier.  The cheese melts and it's the best.  fucking.  thing.  EVER.  This isn't an every day, or even an every week treat, but it's one of many things I will miss dearly when I move away from here.

5) Cosmo, Cozzy, Bambi, Sugar, Cosmo di Madison--R.I.P.

The city suffered a major blow two years ago when this guy died unexpectedly of a heart attack.  People who didn't know him were intimidated and assumed he was homeless, or a menace, or crazy, or all three.  Ironically, "crazy" was one of his favorite terms of derision for the people who stared pointedly at the ground as he walked by.  "Those guys are CRAZY, bambi, ya HEAR ME?" he'd rant in that booming voice I will never forget, or hear again.

He was a downtown fixture, but as much as he was a novelty--and oh, he was, and we loved him, and Madison, for it--he was my friend, and the friend of most people who worked in that area.  He was a regular at the coffee shop where I worked in high school, and while his flamboyant outfits changed daily and hilariously, his drinks never did--tall iced coffee ("Can I get an icy, bambi?") and a huge cup of whole milk.  He was a little intimidating if you didn't know him--easily 7 feet tall, rail-thin, dressed in outfits that would drive the most daringly androgynous drag queen into fits of jealousy.  One day tight black leather pants and a screaming red leather vest with fringes that rustled in the wind as he pedaled by, no shirt, of course.  The next tight jean cut-offs and a loud yellow bare-midriff shirt.  The best was when he wore children's pants; he was skinny enough that they fit, but so tall that they stopped at his knees. 

Once we ran into each other in Ragstock; I was looking for a sexy nurse dress for Halloween, and he was being Cosmo, finding the most ridiculous shit and wearing it because he could.  He liked the attention.  He was an attention whore, never made any pretense otherwise.  "Ya think this hat likes the shirt, bambi?" he intoned, staring quizzically into the mirror at the turquoise and lavender beret perched atop the sparse flyaway hair, his beak-like nose wrinkling with the effort of sizing it up against his bare-midriff tank top, the color of a tennis ball.  "I think you should try this," I said, handing him a dark green bowler hat with a fake yellow flower attached on the right side.  "You gotta be crazy, bambi," he snickered--he liked when people played along--and then he was off.  

When I moved back here after college, in early 2007, we ran into each other on the street.  I was walking home from work, when I heard an unmistakeable voice say, "Spare a burnie for a bum, bambi?"  I had to keep myself from shrieking with happiness.  "For you, darlin', I have a million!" I exclaimed, fishing for my cigarettes and giddy with joy, warmth gushing into the hole in my heart I'd never realized was there.  We walked back to his place and sat on the porch, even though it was the dead of winter.  We chain-smoked and I listened to him rant about this and that, pausing only to accept my "I hear ya, Cozzy" in response to his, "Ya hear me, bambi?" his deep lilting voice like a cello and his laugh like a clap of thunder.  "Fuckin' BOZOS," he boomed, catching a headline about the Iraq war on the newspaper peeking out of my bag.  "Just like to fuck everyone's shit up, ya hear me bambi?" 

What else was there to do but respond with a hearty, "I hear ya, Coz."

He died of a genetic heart defect that fall, sitting in the same chair.  Or supposedly it was a genetic heart defect, but I'm guessing the constant iced coffees, daily gallons of whole milk, and cigarettes did him in as well.  We'd run in to each other once or twice, but our exchanges seldom involved more than a hello, some nonsense that always made a funny kind of sense when I thought about it later, a "ya hear me?" and an "I hear ya, Cozzy."  I went to the memorial service, which was packed with college kids, baristas, bartenders, corner store clerks, clothing shop workers, and professors who'd loved him and knew that there was no one in the world like Cosmo. 

It was touching--here's a guy who obviously had some mental issues (although sometimes he would be completely lucid, and you'd wonder if he wasn't just fucking with all of us), was very eccentric and could even be intimidating if you didn't know him, who might have been a pariah anywhere else.  Yet, he dies, and this little chapel overflows with people mourning him.  Cosmo is no longer in Madison--I'd like to think that he's off somewhere else, slamming iced coffees and whole milk, rocking colorful vests with no shirt and denim cutoffs, burning burnies and demanding "ya hear me?" of every angel who will give him the time of day--but he belongs in this post because it was Madison who embraced his rants and his wonderful outfits.  He wasn't thrown into a loony bin or shunned by shopkeepers; he was befriended and adored.  Thank you, Cosmo, for being here and making my life richer, and thank you, Madison, for keeping him around.  Ya hear me?

6)  The Old Fashioned

Remember how I said we have really good beer?  And then I went on to write about the farmers' market, and how the produce here is amazing?  And then the bit about deep fried cheese curds?  Well, The Old Fashioned is the place where you get to experience all three, and as such it is one of the most efficient stops if you want to see what Madison--and Wisconsin--is all about.  They have 150--yep, that's right--Wisconsin beers available, and of those 30 are on tap.  They also do the best rendition I've ever tasted of the classic Wisconsin cocktail for which the bar is named.  But the reason you should really go here, besides sampling beers (I know, I know, the Terrace too, yes yes--we tend to drink a lot of beer here), is yet another artery-clogger, the best goddamn burger ever.  The Old Fashioned burger has: caramelized onions, garlic sauce, bacon, aged sharp Cheddar, and a fried egg.  Whenever I order one I get it boxed up because it keeps surprisingly well and it always lasts me about, oh, three days.  They also have the best cheese curds I've been able to find in the whole city, not to mention the state, and their spinach and bacon salad isn't bad either.  They do a really fun karaoke ("liquid courage Wednesdays") and they make some of their own specialty liquors, such as the cherry bounce.

And if you go, tip the fucking bartenders, and tip them well.  Most of them are my friends.

7) B.B. Clarke Beach 

Folks who aren't landlocked and can actually go swimming will scoff at the notion of this being a beach, and you're kinda right.  But just stretch your definition of "beach" for a bit.  Suppose we're not talking about a huge expanse of land bordering sea with tons of waves and surfing and seashells and crabs and shit, and instead we're talking about an area next to a scummy lake where there's a little sand and a big-ass pier in the middle and a lifeguard that looks the other way if some early-twenties kids swim out there with beer bottles (as long as they bring them back), to lay on the warm pier in the sun and banter and tan.  Then, this is totally a beach, and it's a great one.  Not much to it; pretty much what I described.  But if it's muggy and hot and it's been a long day at work, there's little I'd rather do than call up some friends, grab a sixer of Spotted Cow, swim out to the floating dock, and work on the tan I can't get because I'm a fucking redhead and only capable of burning.

8) Vilas Outdoor Skating Rink  

When winter is here in earnest, this is the place to be.  Ice skating is awesome, and the shelter has over-sugared hot cocoa when you get cold.   And,Vilas Park is especially pretty in winter, in a stark, sparse kind of way.  And, little kids look adorable when they're all rosy-cheeked from the cold and fall on their snowsuit-covered butts when they slip.  I can't wait to take my kids skating here.

9) The Wisconsin State Capitol

This one gets two pictures, because both the interior and the exterior are gorgeous.  The bottom picture is what you see if you go inside to the center of the building and lay down on the floor; on the very top, the bull's eye, if you will, is a Baroque-style painting of women in red and white tunics dancing around.  Very cool.  They also have an observation deck that you can go up to--you can see the city from all sides, including the two lakes that border the downtown strip, and it really is a breathtaking view.  Exploring the capitol is another good thing to do, post-noshing and people-watching, during the farmer's market.  

10) The Arboretum, but especially the lilac garden  

Lilacs are hands-down my favorite flower, and that works out well because the Arboretum--Madison's sprawling nature reserve that stretches across the southwest part of the city--has a lilac garden in the center.  Wandering around this garden, when the whole city is in full bloom but the lilacs especially are at their short-lived peak, is my favorite thing to do in spring.  Bringing your significant other, some nosh, bubbly, and a blanket is probably one of the most romantic dates ever.  And if it's late at night, and no one's around, and you're all alone with the perfume of lilacs and maybe some moonlight, well, sex on said blanket is some of the best sex ever, too.

Not that I'd know anything about that.  Nope, never.

So stop on by!  We're too pokey to garner much tourist attention, but even though there aren't huge buildings to gawk at or museums to walk through, this city is full of gustatory and visual pleasures, and the people are, for the most part, pretty great as well.

Now for the open call part--what do you love about your city?