Suddenly, I am all wet. It may be a quite a humid day. Like the article in the New Yorker about the tourists in New Guinea, white, sweating; the locals, dry.
Well, came back to see what it is like. I don’t like it. Too personal. I feel like my annonymity is blown.
Yesterday, Dorothea hosted her book club. As Liam observed when we came home about 9:00 from being “out,” “I thought they were supposed to be talking about books. They’re talking about everything.” They do seem like a chatty bunch.
Earlier in the evening, he had another pearl. As we were driving by the Excel Center, he noted that Paul McCartney was doing a concert there is October. To which he added “if he lives that long.”
We drove to downtown St. Paul and I picked up my clothes from the haberdasher. He said he wanted to eat ribs. The neighbor had grilled some and he liked them. So we went to Famous Dave’s. Dave is a Republican, a Nativ e American, was recently head of the Bureua of Indian Affairs.
Next, we went to the Mall of America to walk around. This was a issue for him, since he was wearing his headgear in public and noted that people were staring at him, which they were. He seemed to take it well.