Back to the salt mines

After a relaxing time in Chicago, I'm back in Minneapolis. Got in a few hours late due to a violent storm that ripped through the Twin Cities while my plane sat patiently on the run way at Midway airport for two and a half hours.

Sunday was a gorgeous day--highs in the 80s and brillant sunshine. Mike and I took out some bikes and rode through Wrigleyville and then down to North Beach, where we played in the sand. On the way back cute boys on Halsted smiled at me. We made it to his car just before one of those great summer rains of big drops downpouring with the sun still out. At a bar in Roscoe Village we watched the Cubs game and drank Fuller's ESB.

So, it was a relaxing trip. The hotdog marathon was the highlight. But we did crash that U of Chicago party (they were raising money to break some Burmese political prisoner out of jail, bless) and yes that white powder all over our shoes the next morning was from Mike playing around with a fire extinguisher. He finds them irresistible. We laffed at hipsters at the Rainbo Club, and drank cheap swill at The Hideout. Too, too drunk, we hoisted a ladder up three flights of wooden stairs to climb up onto Mike's roof and hop from rooftop to rooftop down Kedzie. Not the smartest thing to do. I dropped off some copies of Dog's Breakfast at Qumby's so go buy one.

It was great hanging out with Mike and Camille. My prediction is that they'll move to Portland within twelve months. I wish they both would find the sort of jobs they're looking for. Lately I've really, really been appreciating my position here at the Press. Minneapolis may not be New York or Chicago or Portland or London, but I've got a great job at a place that treats me well. I use my intelligence and my Cultural Studies degree every day and I don't mind getting up every morning to come here. Given many of my friends, I feel blessed.

Hopefully now I can arrange my trip to Seattle in June. Now accepting applications for a guest blogger.

More interesting things coming soon, I promise.