Turnkey solutions that are appealing in principle, but rarely work the way imagined. Dog, for instance. Woman, bending down, plastic bag, boulevard, two small dogs on two leashes. I bike by on my way to here (Coffee News Cafe, on way to work.) So it is early morning.
Last night, Dorothea and I drove to the the LRT station and took the train into Minneapolis for the Minnesota Orchestra’s free “Day of Music” kickoff of its summer festival, Sommerfest. I guess the Minnesota Orchestra is the only major symphony that does its summer festival at the regular setting.
Ah, didn’t know what to do today. Got to bed late last night as Dorothea and I went to the Guthrie to see His Girl Friday. Cereal at home? (Not an option if we’d been out of cereal–always a distinct possibility. But there was a box downstairs, in the tall, particle board cupboard that we use as a pantry. Celine and I put it together. The doors are on upside down, so that the rough, particle board edge that should be facing down is facing up. Didn’t realize it while we were putting it together, as it was laying on its back on the floor amid it’s cardboard box, and the plastic bag that the parts had been in, and the tools, and leftover parts, and the directions in five languages and the exploding diagrams. At the time, doing all that un- and re-screwing that would have been necessary to correct the problem didn’t seem worth the effort. Still doesn’t, even though I am reminded everyday of the flaw. Maybe that is a good, the having the memory everyday. That particle board cupboard, pre-Ikea, is also the place that we all go for junk food. It is in the same room as the TV, and when the kids are down there, you periodically hear the squeak and slam of the doors as they go in for chips or bars.) Or go out for breakfast? The Y?
Went to yoga last night, in the midst of Wednesday activities–baseball, Liam;soccer, Madeline. Dorothea had worked during the day. I was not in gear with all that was going on until informed me of all that was happening. I also ate the last of the Bunny Tracks ice cream, “her” ice cream. As to the ice cream, all I have is a shrug–a) looks to me like she ate half and I ate half; b) as Salem the Cat on Sabrina the Teenage witch says, in that distinctively Martin Mull voice, “I’m weeeaaak.”
200507130750 Y’d this morning, and no sauna or hottub. Guess that is a sign that I’ve had enough of the heat.
This is another alley photo. I just thing it a rural looking setting.
This place is a bit out of the way, but way more climate controlled then the Gingko. Cooler today–overcast, chance of rain. Am on my bike anyway. Gambling. Though yesterday, Dorothea did find my windbreaker.
Well, I know that the coffee is hot today because I spill some–then some more–on my hand, walking from the counter to the table, lidless, thinking that I’ll leave the lid off to let the coffee cool. It was the barista’s fault for filling the cup too full; it was …; no, stupidity on my part. Bad choice. I am still alive.
This carving is alley art that Dorothea and I found.
The other day, as I was walking into the lobby of the building where I work, I watched a security guard passing a metal detector wand over a delivery peson’s two-wheel cart of boxes of ice cream cones.
Just left Liam off at soccer practice. Kind of an odd spot, at least from my perspective–east St. Paul. But an easy drop into here, at least on an early Saturday morning, with nothing going on.
Second day on the bike to work. Helped Madeline get up to take Stella out, which she did, complaining; but, later, when I left, she was still at it.