Early October Snow

My backyard on October 12, 2010, taken at 1 pm. I'm not ready for this.

A View from St. Paul's Harriet Isalnd

The entrance to St. Paul's Harriet Island Park.

The park isn't really an island, but a peninsula that sticks out into the Mississippi River.

I liked the view of the St. Paul Cathedral in the background. It's on the opposite bank of the river, and as you can see, atop a tall hill.

River Boat Grill & Views of St. Paul

The Mississippi River cuts through the city of St. Paul. I'd never really spent much time around the river in St. Paul and so the other day a friend and I decided to check it out.

We stumbled upon the River Boat Grill, a restaurant on an old boat docked at Harriet Island.

Could there be a better way to enjoy views of the water and downtown St. Paul than to sit on a boat with something to drink? No. We found a table and ordered some lunch.

The boat's menu told the long story about the boat's beginnings and how it came to be a restaurant in St. Paul. Unfortunately, that story isn't posted anywhere on the restaurant's web site. And I didn't have too much time to absorb it at my table. The waitress set upon us pretty quick for our order before snapping the menus out of our hands.

Oh well. The sign on the receptionist stand had warned us. It said something along the lines of Beware the Bitter Waitress.

We didn't give it much more mind, other than to giggle a bit over it. The views of downtown St. Paul were just too pleasant and the people watching was equally appealing.

Go-Girl! Women Pee Standing Up!

So here's something you just don't see everyday -- a silicone device that allows women to pee standing up.

It's called GoGirl and it happens to be produced, marketed and sold right here in the Minneapolis-St. Paul area.

I just can't help but blog about the GoGirl. That's because I already blogged about the subject over a year ago. Back then my post was about a device called P-Mate. It also was a "female urinary device" that would allow women to pee standing up. It, too, was from right here in the Twin Cities.

This new device, the GoGirl, differs from the P-Mate in that it is made of silicone instead of cardboard. The GoGirl is reusable whereas the P-Mate was more of a one-time-use sort of thing.

Apparently the GoGirl is going great guns, selling all sorts of inventory. Well, good for them.

I, however, have a different question: What is it about the Twin Cities that has produced two companies selling basically the same product -- and a strange one at that?

Beauty Queens and Butter

One of my favorite parts of the Minnesota State Fair is stopping into the dairy building to see the butter heads.

Every year, about a dozen young ladies compete for the title of Princess Kay of the Milky Way.

The Minnesota Dairy Association crowns a winner at the start of the fair and for the next year, she acts a representative of the state's dairy industry.

All of the candidates get their likeness carved out of a block of butter. The butter heads are life size and each girl gets to take hers home and keep it!

Hotdish on a Stick @ MN State Fair

If you're from the Upper Midwest, you know what a hotdish is.

If you're not, then let me fill you in -- a hotdish is a casserole. Minnesotans love their hotdish. There's no better type of comfort food when the temperature hits negative numbers.

However, the hotdish on a stick at the Minnesota State Fair may be taking the hotdish love a bit too far.

This year, hubby and I decided to give it a go, and for all years yet to come, I think we will both pass on the hotdish on a stick.

Here's how it was made: meatball, tatter tot, meatball, tatter tot, meatball, tatter tot, meatball were stacked on a stick. Then the whole thing was dipped in a cornmeal batter. Then it was deep fried. And then it was served with a small side of cream of mushroom soup for dipping.

Anything On A Stick @ MN State Fair

It's time for the Minnesota State Fair!

If you live in the Twin Cities, you just can't escape the state fair. It's held in St. Paul and for two weeks it messes with traffic all throughout town.

Plus, every TV and radio station in town ditches its regular digs to broadcast live from the fair.

Rumor has it the Minnesota State Fair is the second-largest in the country -- after Texas.

The best thing about the Minnesota State Fair (do I have to pick one?) is that nearly all the food is served on a stick.

There is the pork chop on a stick, which is always a fine choice.

And this year there was something new -- bacon on a stick. The bacon slice was super thick so that it could fit on a stick. It looked like a heart attack and so we passed, but plenty of others were trying it out.

The best part about the bacon on a stick booth was a sign that was tacked up on the side. It read:

"Bacon is sex in a skillet. It's the ultimate aphrodisiac for all living things -- except pigs, of course."

Bali Restaurant in Minneapolis

What a fantastic restaurant find!

The other night I had dinner with friends at a place called Bali in downtown Minneapolis. It serves Indonesian cuisine.

Everyone ordered something different and then we all sampled from all the plates. There was a chicken dish, a snapper dish that had great presentation and two different beef dishes, one called Daging Rendang, which the menu said is the country's most famous dish. Whether it is or isn't, it certainly tasted delicious.

We had appetizers, dessert and cocktails, too. It was a great summer evening in a funky new restaurant.

Minnesota or Cambodia?

After our visit to the Wat Munisota, I was so intrigued with the architecture of the temple that I dug up my pictures from Cambodia to compare the images.

What do you think...Minnesota or Cambodia?

A.


B.


C.


D.

Cambodian Temple in Minnesota

It was big news a couple summers back -- a Cambodian temple opened in Minnesota.

The newspaper was full of pictures from the temple-opening ceremony, and after looking the over, Hubby and I decided we needed to check the place out. The images looked so similar to things we had seen while traveling in Cambodia ourselves.

And then...well, time passed. Somehow we never found the time to drive out and visit it.

Well, we made the time. We took a mini road trip to visit the Wat Munisota, which is about an hour drive from our home and just south of the Twin Cities.

But once you make it all the way out there, you feel like you're in the country -- the country side and an actual other county.

Our map took us down a dirt road and passed several corn and soy bean fields to get there. The temple is seriously out in the middle of nowhere and surrounded by green.

As soon as we pulled into the temple entrance we were greeted by a bald-headed monk in saffron robes painting light posts.

We wondered at the name ... was "Wat Munisota" supposed to be "Wat Minnesota"?

The temple was open to the public and full of ornate gold-painted Buddhas, vases of flowers and strings of glimmering beads. The life of the Buddha was retold in colorful paintings all the way around the worship hall.

We weren't the only "tourists" there either. A few other city folk had made the drive as well--a couple moms trying to give their elementary kids a cultural experience.

Besides them, the one monk we saw out at the main entrance, and a couple of landscapers who were working on a retaining wall, the place was pretty quiet.

It was really neat to see, though, and we were glad we'd made the time to go and check it out.

Lundstrum Center for the Performing Arts

A few months back I interviewed the Casserly sisters. Well...not all of them. Just three of the five. And there's actually a Casserly brother, too.

The Casserly siblings run a nonprofit performing arts center in Minneapolis for local youth.

Their story is pretty cool. They inherited the center -- The Lundstrum Center for the Performing Arts -- from Dorothy Lundstrum, the woman who started it back in the 1920s.

She was of no blood relation to them, but considered the Casserly siblings to be her "star" pupils. Since she never married herself, she willed the center to them when she died.

If you'd like to learn more about it you can read my finished article about there here:

Sisters Everywhere

Photo -- by Amber Procaccini

Cowboy Up at the Hamel Rodeo

One of the things I like about living in the Twin Cities is that you can quickly get outside of the city and find yourself in the county.

This means it's pretty easy to take a one-day road trip and in that small amount of time, feel like you've really gotten away from your city stress.

For example, a friend and I hit up the Hamel Rodeo. It was a 20 minute drive to get to the rodeo grounds, and once we were there, we weren't in the city any more. We were surrounded by cowboy hats, cowboy boots and Budweiser.

The rodeo started at 7:30 pm and didn't finish until 10 o'clock.

Cowboys rode bucking broncos and topped the night off with the grand finale -- bucking bulls.

Cowgirls competed in barrel racing, a touring family of cowboys wowed us with fancy rope tricks and then more cowboys participated in calf-roping events.

The Hamel Rodeo claims it is the largest rodeo in the state of Minnesota, which I find amazing considering it's so close to Minneapolis.

By far, the best thing we took from the night was a line uttered by the announcer, who yelled while pumping the crowd at the start:

"Let's cowboy up and getter done!"

Smart Talking Diane Keaton

This week I attended the last of this year's Smart Talk events in Minneapolis.

The speaker for this go around was Diane Keaton.

When Ms. Keaton stepped out on stage, a wild noise of applause filled the air. The audience was thrilled to see Ms. Keaton herself, but I think most of the joy was over her skirt -- a flouncy, bouncy, chic and totally glamorous white and black polka-dot print.

She told us in the course of the night that she'd gotten the skirt for free as part of her work on a L'Oreal campaign. It was Dolce & Gabbana.

Ms. Keaton talked on several subjects. Yet she always seemed to come back around to memory and how important it is for her, and for all of us really, to document our personal lives in whatever medium fits us best -- home movies, photo albums, scrap books, journals, etc.

In the course of her talk, these were some of the things she said that stuck out at me:

"Vibrancy has to do with being curious, not youth."

"Perfection is the death of creativity."

"A memory is when your heart takes a picture."

Photo courtesy of Smart Talk.

Shuang Cheng Walleye

Hubby's favorite place to eat in all of Minneapolis is a Chinese spot called Shuang Cheng.

It's kind of a hole-in-the-wall place. It's not really a dive, but it's certainly not swanky. It is, however, really really really good food.

The restaurant is in Dinky Town, a small retail neighborhood on the University of Minnesota campus.

One of my favorite things to eat there is the walleye with black bean sauce.

If you're not familiar with a "walleye" it's just about the best fresh water fish ever. Minnesotans love their walleye and now that fishing season is officially here, walleye fever is in full swing.

A recent article I wrote for a local publication was little more than a list of walleye recipes.

And in one month, I will be taking a trip to northern Minnesota to try my own hand at walleye fishing. I'll write about it all, of course, for GoNomad.

But even if I manage to snag a big one, I don't think I'll be able to bring it home and deep fry it whole like they do at Shuang Cheng.

Parking Meters in Excelsior, MN

Here's a slice of Minnesota . . .

I recently snapped this shot in the town of Excelsior, which is a western suburb of Minneapolis.

Excelsior sits on the banks of Lake Minnetonka. The lake is a prime boating destination and Excelsior is a fun place to stroll. The town has a quaint downtown with shops, wine bars and coffee shops. Boaters on the lake like to stop there for a snack or potty break.

That snack or potty break will cost you some of your spare change, though. A string of parking meters on the city's public docks regulates boat parking.

There is a two-hour limit and the meters are checked from 8 am to 1 am, seven days a week, including holidays.

Paris by Night in St. Paul

Before I married Hubby, and consequently into the Vietnamese community, I had no idea what these words meant: Paris By Night.

Paris By Night is the name of a stage show performed in Vietnamese. It includes singing, dancing and comedy skits. The show is always emceed by the same male-female duo.

Even though all the performers are Vietnamese and all the acts are in Vietnamese, ever since the fall of Saigon, the show has been produced outside of Vietnam.

It plays to sold out crowds in California and tours the United States stopping in cities with a large Vietnamese community.

Every time the show is performed, it is video taped and turned into a DVD. My mother-in-law owns rows upon rows of Paris By Night DVDs and I've spent several hours lounging on her couch with Paris By Night playing in the background.

In fact, I've been to house parties, wedding showers, baby showers and more where Paris By Night is running on the TV background.

If you've never seen or heard of Paris By Night, the thing you most need to understand about it is that

1) It takes place almost entirely in Vietnamese

2) It is dramatic -- lights, make-up, fancy dresses, high heels, dancers, emotionally-wrought duos and ballads.

3) It goes on forever -- as in FIVE HOURS!

And this weekend I successfully sat through my very first LIVE Paris By Night performance.

The Paris By Night show came to Minneapolis-St. Paul. Hubby and I went, along with a bunch of his relatives.

Most of the singers were really very very very good. Even though I don't understand Vietnamese, their voices were incredibly powerful and stunning.

But . . . five hours is just too long to sit still and listen to a show.

I feel like I passed some sort of cultural milestone by going and hearing and making it through the whole darn thing, yet I think that will probably be the last live Paris By Night performance I attend!

Rollerskate at Roller Gardens

How hilarious is this? I went roller skating!

Friday nights are "21 And Over" at Roller Garden. All night long, the tunes are "Old School Funk and Disco."

I used to go roller skating at Roller Garden when I was in elementary school, and I was floored to find out this site of my wholesome, girlhood fun is now a Friday night hot spot for adults.

There were some seriously dedicated and talented roller skaters out there groovin' on the rink.

I, though, was not one of them. I remember that I used to be able to do a "crossover," skate backwards and even "shoot the duck."

No more. But I did get a work out! Gee whiz! Roller skating is hard work!

Walking in Theodore Wirth Park

Finally, the weekend weather was gorgeous in Minneapolis.

It was a jam-packed time of being outside, being active and being with friends.

On Saturday I participated in the Walk for Animals, a fundraiser for the Humane Society.

Roughly 8,000 people showed up with their dogs, cats, billy goats, ponies, ferrets, hamsters and guinea pigs (I even spotted a man with a monkey!) to complete a five-mile circuit.

The walk wound through Theodore Wirth Park, a 700-plus acre swath of green at the edge of downtown Minneapolis.

The park includes an 18-hole golf course, a wildflower garden, picnic pavilions and a swimming beach.

The air was warm and the general atmosphere couldn't have been more genial.

Everyone was pumped to be outside soaking up sun, getting some exercise and doing some good.

The only thing better than the sun was the people -- er -- animal watching.

A dog with a pink hair? Another wearing a long, blond wig?

Yes and yes.

Plus dogs in tutus, dogs in sweaters, dogs in sunglasses, dogs in strollers, dogs in Baby-Bjorns.

Anyone remember that children's book Go Dog Go?

The entire event was like a page straight out of it!

Elizabeth Peyton: Live Forever @ Walker

Now that spring has finally arrived in Minneapolis, I want to be out of the house.

A day at the Walker Art Museum is always a curious way to pass some time. The Walker is all about "modern" art, which means a lot flies over my head.

But right now, and through mid-June, there is an exhibit at the Walker called "Live Forever: Elizabeth Peyton."

It is all paintings by a contemporary American painter named Elizabeth Peyton.

Most of her work was close up portraits of people. Many were quite small -- the size of a coffee table book or even a dictionary.

This one really caught my eye. It wasn't a full on portrait and it showed a scene I can totally relate to right now.

Oh, to be chilling in the bright sun with a big body of water glistening in the background while I read, or sketch, or whatever . . .

Soon. Soon. Summer is coming.

Bank on Bank for Good Food in Minneapolis

I'd been wanting to eat at a restaurant called Bank in Minneapolis.

It opened about a year ago, but I just hadn't made my way there. Now that the sun is shining and spring appears to have arrived in the Twin Cities, I've been feeling the need to get out of the house and into the city. And so I made a lunch date with Bank.

The restaurant gets its name from its historic location. The building it is in was built in 1941 and was the Farmers & Mechanics Bank.

A few years back, the building was gutted and turned into a hotel. Now it is the Minneapolis Westin.

The restaurant is in the hotel's lobby, but it is also in the space that used to be the bank lobby, and it feels like a bank when you walk in -- an old-money sort of bank.

The decor is rich and earthy, lots of wood, lots of windows, and impressive, funky chandeliers that look like huge pineapples.

The old teller counter is still there. Now, instead of withdrawing money there, though, you can sit at the teller bar and sip a cocktail while watching the action going on in the kitchen.

Smart Talking Phylicia Rashad

Last night I attended part four of the five-part Smart Talk series in Minneapolis.

This time, the speaker was Phylicia Rashad -- otherwise known as Mrs. Huxtible from The Cosby Show.

I have very fond memories of watching The Cosby Show when I was younger. I was in junior high the the show first debuted. I was excited for a behind-the-scenes peak into the show.

Mrs. Rashad, though, didn't spend a whole lot of her time talking about the show. She spent more time talking about her childhood, her break through into acting and the lessons she had learned from life.

And you know what . . . even though she didn't talk about what I had assumed she would, at the end of the night, I found myself impressed and inspired.

And calmed. Mrs. Rashad is actively meditates, and I could tell as she had a very soothing and spiritual presence on stage.

I found it heartening to hear that there had been many times in her life when she had felt like everything was going wrong -- not because I wanted her life to be off-key, but because it made her human.

Here is something valuable she said last night that I am going to take away and try to put into regular practice in my life.

But first, I have to set it up a little: So, you know how everyone is always saying we should learn from our mistakes . . .

Not only is that cliche, but it's so hollow. Okay. I'll learn from my mistakes -- but could somebody please tell me exactly what it is I'm supposed to be learning? It seems like the lesson should be clear, but so many times in life, it's not.

Mrs. Rahad, though, had this to say:

Making mistakes should teach us to be more understanding and less judgmental of others.

Easier said than done, but the next time I'm left wondering what I did wrong, I'm going to try and keep this in mind.

Missing: Minneapolis Cherry

Minneapolis is missing its cherry.

The Spoonbridge and Cherry sculpture, which is the most iconic image of Minneapolis, is in a state of repair.

The cherry was taken down a couple weeks ago and is getting spiffed up with a new coat of paint.

The cherry's removal made the news when it was taken down. I'd forgotten, though, that it was gone and was startled to see the naked spoon when I strolled through the Sculpture Garden the other day.

People were still snapping photos of it though. As did I. In all my life, I've never seen this spoon without its cherry.

Here's a shot from a few summers back of what it's supposed to look like.

The Pakistani Bride

Many months ago I attended an event hosted by Milkweed Editions, an independent publisher headquartered here in Minneapolis.

At the end of the night, those in attendance were told to choose a book from the table at the door on their way out.

The books covering the table had all been published by Milkweed. I grabbed one called The Pakistani Bride. It wasn't until recently, though, that I cracked its cover.

I loved it.

It was written by a woman name Bapsi Sidhwa, who has an impressive personal story herself. She's written several novels and while she grew up in Pakistan, she now lives in the States.

The Pakistani Bride was actually Sidhwa's first book. Milkweed's recent edition will hopefully breathe new life into its circulation. It would be a fantastic book club read. Young women - high school aged - should read it, too, I think. It would get them all riled up about women's rights. There is much to talk about here.

The book is partially set in the city of Lahore, Pakistan. It's a city I've never visited myself, but have a vivid picture of in my head.

Up until about two years ago, I'd never even heard of the place. But then I read a book called The Dancing Girls of Lahore -- which totally captured my imagination.

And then, this past summer, I read another book set in Lahore. This one was called The Reluctant Fundamentalist. It, too, held my rapt attention.

So while I've never been there, now, after reading three books in fairly close succession that were all set in this city, Lahore is prominent in my mind.

Delta's Sky Magazine Produced in MSP

The Delta-Northwest merger has been a big deal here in Minneapolis-St. Paul.

That's because the Twin Cities was the headquarters of Northwest Airlines.

Anytime Northwest started merger talks with another airline, the local media here would get all antsy, seeking out mayors and the like for their take on what a merger would mean in terms of job losses for the area.

Now that the merger has been approved, changes have started taking place out at the MSP airport.

Northwest signs have been taken down. Delta ones have gone up.

Check-in counters that used to be red have been painted blue. Northwest airplanes are being repainted to match up with the Delta fleet.

Surely Minneapolis will lose some jobs, but one local business managed to score big with the merger.

MSP Communications puts out several high-end glossy magazines, and they are the new publishers of Delta's in-flight magazine, Sky.

The magazine has been revamped, beautified and put online.

It's looking pretty slick and they're hoping others think so, too: Now you can subscribe to the magazine so that even if you're not flying Delta, you can still read the in-flight mag.

Meeting Fran Drescher

Last week I went to hear Fran Drescher speak.

Not only that, but I also got to shake her hand and say hello. Oh, and get my picture snapped with her.

She was in Minneapolis as part of the Smart Talk lecture series and her message, basically, was be optimistic and take chances.

I got my picture taken with her exactly because I had taken a chance.

Back in January, when I was at the first of the Smart Talk series events, I saw a call out in the program that said the organization was looking for "artists" who might be interested in working with Smart Talk.

Hey - I thought - isn't a writer an ar-TEEST?

I took a chance and sent an email to the address listed, said I was a writer and a blogger, included some links to my work and ... well, I managed to get myself and a friend backstage to meet The Nanny.

Smart Talk and I haven't quite figured out where exactly our relationship is going, but...

But now they me. I know them. And I got to meet Fran Drescher.

Sports On A Stick Isn't Fooling

It might be April Fools Day, but I've got a web site to share that's seriously funny - no joke!

It's called Sports on a Stick.

It's all sports news and it's all satire.

If you're a fan of The Onion, you're sure to find something that will tickle your funny bone at Sports on a Stick.

I had the privilege of interviewing the guys who started it. Ben Malmo and Sam Testa happened to grow up in my neck of the woods and continue to live in the Twin Cities today.

They were a fun pair to work with -- all jabs and giggles. They certainly enjoy what they're doing, which is reflected in their site.

If you're in need a sports-related smile, check it out.

Smart Talking Fran Drescher

Good things happen.

This was the message Fran Drescher had to share last night when she came through Minneapolis as part of the Smart Talk lecture series.

Good things are always happening in our lives, even when we feel like we are bogged down with bad. Whether we recognize the opportunities as they appear depends -- of course -- on us. We choose whether to wallow or rise.

She illustrated her point drawing examples from her own life. For example, I didn't know that she struggled for years in Hollywood before finding her niche as "The Nanny" in her mid-thirties.

I also didn't know that throughout those lean Hollywood years, she founded and ran a crouton company. Croutons! Who knew?

And I vaguely remembered, some years past, that she'd been diagnosed with cancer. But I had no idea that it was uterine cancer. I had no idea she had a full hysterectomy.

I had no idea she'd started a nonprofit organization to educate women about gynecological cancers -- uterine and ovarian. It's called, like her book, Cancer Schmancer.

I had no idea she'd been spending time in Washington D.C. lobbying senators to pass a bill to support her work.

And I had no idea she'd been appointed Special Envoy for Women's Health Issues by the U.S. State Department and now travels the world speaking out about the importance of women's health.

She said, last night, that she fully believes she got famous so she could survive cancer so she could educate others.

Now that's a woman who has learned to find the silver lining.

One of my favorite things that she said last night was:

"Nothing good comes from being cemented."

Her message: Things change. Tragedy happens. Rarely do our lives turn out as we planned. If we can't roll with the punches, we're going to have a hard time seeing good.

Observation Deck of Foshay Tower

Of course we had to visit the Observation Deck at the top of the Foshay Tower.

As guests of the W Hotel Minneapolis, we had free entrance to the museum and lookout. Usually, it costs $8 to get up there.

The Observation Deck is above the word "Foshay" and traces a path all the way around the building.

It was bright and sunny, a perfect warm spring day.

According to all the literature back in the museum, you're supposed to be able to see for 30 miles on a clear day.

I don't know that we could see that far. We did, though, get a bird's eye view into the new baseball stadium that's going up at the edge of downtown.

And I did catch this full-length reflection of the Foshay Tower in the office building next door. This shot looks away from downtown Minneapolis.

Foshay Tower Turned W Hotel

To celebrate our anniversary, Hubby and I reserved a room at the new W Hotel in Minneapolis.

The hotel opened in the fall of 2008 and its location is quite remarkable: It's inside the historic Foshay Tower.

Construction on the Foshay Tower finished in August 1929, just a few weeks before the Roaring 20s came to a halt with the infamous stock market crash that sent the country into the Great Depression.

From 1929 until 1971, it was the tallest building in Minneapolis, a title it's long since lost several times over.

It's just 32 stories high, but it continues to stand out as its white limestone facade looks like the Washington Monument in Washington DC.

It was an office building. Now, though, it's a swanky, upscale, boutique hotel.

Great pains were taken to preserve the build's historic value. Those pains had to be taken as the building earned a spot on the National Historic Register back in 1977.

Throughout the building, old and new have been expertly mixed, like in the lobby where the original marble walls, tile floors and a restored plaster ceiling mingle with ulta-modern lighting.

Barrio Tequila Bar in Minneapolis

What's a night of live music without drinks and dinner before hand?

The other night, before checking in to see the Afro-Cuban All Stars, we hit Barrio.

Barrio is a great tequila bar squeezed into a thin, tall spot on the city's main pedestrian thoroughfare.

The walls are red, the guacamole is yummy and the drinks are tequila filled.

Not even 24 hours after hanging out there, I was trying to figure out when I could go back.

Afro Cuban All Stars in Minneapolis

Usually, Sunday nights are slow, calm and restful. Not so last night.

I hit the town and went to see the Afro-Cuban All Stars at Orchestra Hall in downtown Minneapolis.

Think Buena Vista Social Club. In fact, the Afro-Cuban All Stars is the band that the Buena Vista Social Club movie and subsequent albums are based on and around.

They put on a great show with lots of energy, plenty of dancing and pulsating rhythms.

There was also a healthy dose of impressive instrumental displays by trumpet players, a pianist, and a bongo drummer, lots of maraca shaking going on and a big mamacita wearing a dress layered in fringe who wasn't afraid to shake it on stage.

What a fun way to pass a Sunday night!

Maple Plain Made my Afternoon

Argh! Strip malls! Too many strip malls! Another Starbucks. Panera. Brugger's. Ugh!

For the past two weeks, I've been in and out of these places meeting folks I'm writing stories about.

Starbucks and the like always make for good meeting places when planning an interview with a stranger. The chains are on key intersections, obviously marked, well lit and well attended. Or in other words, easy and safe.

But by noon today, I'd had enough. Eight such meetings in the past ten days had sent me over the suburban edge. I needed OUT!

I decided to head for the small town of Maple Plain.

It's not too far from my house, maybe half an hour away, but somehow it has escaped urbanization and standardization. Plus, I'd been meaning to get out that way.

I stopped by Kathie's Finds, a funky, eclectic boutique in an old creamery.

Kathie was there, chatting with everyone, and some how I got invited into the back of the building to an old part of the creamery in disrepair. The owners are getting ready to fix it up and expand their store.

While on this "behind the scenes" tour, I also got to meet Kathie's four dogs -- two toy poodles and two great danes -- all of them rescue animals.

Next, I headed "downtown" to The Fairy Garden, a business run out of an old Episcopalian church.

And then I hit up Web of Charlotte, a boutique liberally sprinkled with pictures of pigs. The owner, I learned, named the shop after her deceased but dearly loved pot bellied pig, Charlotte. Hence the pigs.

The only thing that could have made my day any better would have been a tour of the Maple Plain Museum. Sadly, it was closed.

Even if it had been open, though, my tour surely would have only taken two minutes. The museum is an itty-bitty little building smaller than my bedroom.

Nevertheless, Maple Plain, even in its semi-run down, over-looked state, was a total pick me up and the perfect remedy to my suburban frustration.

Smart Talking Syliva Earle

Last night was another lecture series night. A good friend and I have been season ticket holders for the Smart Talk series for several years now. Events are held once a month at Minneapolis' Orchestra Hall.

Last night's presenter was a woman named Dr. Sylvia Earle. I'd never heard of her before, but after listening to her speak, I was in awe. I was also feeling a little inadequate. She knew so much! About so many cool things!

She is a marine biologist, a ground-breaking one at that, who earned her ph.D. in 1966. She is in her 70s, sharp as a knife and fit.

She has logged over 6,000 hours underwater. She lived in a bio-dome type of set up on the ocean floor for two weeks. She holds the world record for deepest solo dive by a woman -- she went down 3,300 feet by herself.

She had a lot to say about the current health of our oceans and our fish populations.

Yet it was these words from her mouth (I'm paraphrasing) that stuck in my mind all night:

Children, she said, always ask her what it takes to be a explorer.

You can't ever grow up, she said. You have to always be like a little kid, asking questions all the time -- why? why? why? You have to have a deep curiosity and a sense of wonder.

Che Spotted at Midtown Global Market

Mirinda Miricle at Midtown Global Market

I doubt there are words to describe just how excited I am, but...being the dedicated writer that I am, I will try.

Yesterday I headed to the Midtown Global Market in South Minneapolis. The market is inside an old, renovated Sears complex. It was set up to have a "mercado" atmosphere. Small business owners, many of them immigrants, lease booth space in the market and set up shop.

The thinking behind this was that a market stall would be cheaper to rent than a brick and mortar store thus giving more first-time business owners a crack at the American Dream.

Plus, since the market is located in a large immigrant-based community, would also be a more familiar business model for potential vendors.

It's a place I've been to before. It's fun to poke around in the stalls and soak up the international vibe. Yesterday I was there on a story assignment. I was to interview a group of women business owners stationed in the market.

Interviews securely done, a free afternoon stretched before me and I decided to stick around and shop. I wandered into a Mexican grocery and that's when it happened. I found Mirinda!

My eyeballs nearly popped out of my head! I couldn't believe it! MIRINDA!

This sweet orange pop is made by Pepsi Co. and the first time I ever had it was in Mexico City. It was October 2005, the second day of a six-month around-the-world trip that I took with my newly-wed husband, and from the moment it touched our lips, both of us were in heaven.

We became fast fans, always preferring it over Fanta. We drank our way through Mexico, Uruguay and Argentina on Mirinda. The brand disappeared in Chile, only to reappear in Thailand. It was also abundant in Vietnam, where a Mirinda root beer line was unveiled as well.

Mirinda was one of the things Hubby and I both missed upon our return home. We'd developed quite a Mirinda addiction and none of the other orange pops on the market compared. We knew. We tried them all.

But now I'd found it! I'd found Mirinda! I bought a bottle (I restrained myself to just one) and it was all I could do to stop myself from running to my car, starting it up and driving right home. I was so excited. I didn't even waste my breath on a cell phone call. Hubby would just have to see this to believe it!

Unfortunately, we had plans last night, otherwise we would have cracked that 2-liter bottle and downed it all. Luckily, there is nothing on our agenda tonight...nothing except a Mirinda taste test.


Photos -
Mexican-imported Mirinda in Minneapolis! Joy!
Mirinda in Bangkok.
Mirinda in Vietnam.

Smart Talking Jane Pauley

Last night I attended an event where Jane Pauley was speaking.

It was the first night in the Smart Talk series, which will bring yet four more high-profile women willing to share their personal stories to Minneapolis by May.

I love this lecture series and have had season tickets to it for a number of years. I started attending it with my mom. Now that she's a snowbird, I've taken to going with one of my friends.

It's always a great excuse to get out of the house, get downtown for dinner and chill for some girl time.

Ms. Pauley was a very engaging speaker. She was funny and light, yet almost everything she said carried a deeper meaning.

In the course of the night, she said several things that really jumped out at me. One was this:

The point is not to get your ducks in a row. The point is to get your ducks in the water.

When she said it, the audience chuckled and clapped. But it is so true. So many of us tend to place such an emphasis on planning and organizing.

Perhaps, what we should be doing instead, is just start making leaps and trusting we'll figure it out once we're wet.

More Than Sweet Young Things

Today I had a couple of articles released. Both are about these cool, hip, smart, young chicks that live in the Twin Cities metro area.

The first is about an area seventh grader named Shruthi Rajasekar who just won a song-writing competition.

Plus, she also just won her first starring role in a big production at the Children's Theater. Here's that piece:

Bittersweet Movement

Next, this article is about an all-girl, teen rock band called Half Demon Doll.

They recently won a rock and roll contest in New York City. Soon, they will be featured in Teen Vogue promoting their upcoming album. Here is that article:

Grrrls Who Rock

Year of the Ox at Mystic Lake

Last night I went to a Vietnamese concert celebrating Chinese New Year at an Indian casino.

Yes. That's right. Read that sentence again if you must.

Only in Minnesota, perhaps, could such a conglomeration of cultures exist.

Let me explain. The concert was most definitely a Vietnamese affair. The line up was comprised of comedians and singers who performed almost exclusively in Vietnamese.

Hubby acted as my translator for some of the gigs, but mostly, I just watched. I was surprised that I was actually familiar with several of the songs performed. I guess all those Vietnamese CDs Hubby plays around the house had sunk in at some point.

Vietnamese culture celebrates Chinese New Year. I've never read up on exactly why this is. I'm assuming it has something to do with geographic proximity, the cultural dominance of the Chinese throughout Asia and the fact that a long time ago China ruled Vietnam. In Vietnamese, the holiday is called "tet."

Now, flash forward to present-day Minnesota and the Twin Cities, a metropolitan area with one of the largest Vietnamese communities in the U.S. Of course, tet is celebrated here.

And what better place to hold a concert than at a casino where there are dining and entertainment options galore?

The Mystic Lake Casino is owned and operated by a tribe of the Dakota people. It's located about 25 miles outside of downtown Minneapolis on reservation land. That said, though, the casino -- and the reservation for that matter -- are well within the bounds of suburbia.

The tribe has capitalized on this suburban location and is one of the wealthiest tribes in the country. Besides the casino, there is also a hotel, a golf course, an RV park, restaurants, event spaces and an auditorium that hosts people like Jay Leno, Jewel and Vince Gill.

It was in this auditorium that Hubby and I sat last night ... and so it was that we rang in Chinese New Year at an Indian casino with a Vietnamese concert.

Che - The Movie takes Minneapolis

He finally arrived!

Che!, the movie with Benicio del Toro playing the part of Che Guevarra, finally opened at Minneapolis' Uptown Theater on Friday night.

In the past year, this movie has been getting a lot of press, which as a total Che junkie, I've been paying attention to.

But I should have been paying better attention. Once I had paid my $15 entrance (gulp) and had settled in my seat, I realized I really had no idea what to expect from this film. The only words I'd let pass my filter were "Che" and "Benicio del Toro." I'd never read a review.

Here's my review: Unless you already know the story of Che Guevarra's life and death, and unless you have a nice FIVE hour chunk of time to kill, perhaps you should skip this one.

The first part was fine. The second part was L-O-N-G and choppy. With an hour yet to play out in the show, my fellow Che-loving movie-going companion leaned over and whispered, "I've never been more ready for Che to die."

I, too, was very ready for Che to die. I was getting hungry, and weary of wondering how long it was going to take the big screen to finally get to the end.

Instead, I started counting heads. The theater was full. After counting 94 people on the main floor, I guessed another 20 or so were in the balcony over head, for a rough estimate of 115 people who showed up on a Saturday afternoon to spend five hours watching a movie glorifying Che.

Who were all these people? My family and friends find my Che obsession bizarre, and I was almost starting to believe them. My mom doesn't like it because, she told me once, "it's too Communist." My husband's standard response, whenever I mention Che, is "Che is gay."

But clearly, with 115 people sitting through this show, I was not alone. And in the end, knowing that, I figured was worth my five hours and my $15.

Freezing in Minnesota!

Penguins don't live in Minneapolis. But if they did, they would be happy today. It's frigid cold cold.

As I type, the air temperature is -6 degrees. That's Fahrenheit, so for all you Celsius people that's -21.

The forecasted high for the day, if we're lucky, is -3 Fahrenheit, which is -19.4 Celsius.

But that's not the worst of it. The wind is even chillier, blowing at -25 Fahrenheit, which is -31 Celsius.

Crazy, right? But the cold isn't all bad.

It's one of the things that bonds Minnesotans together. It gives us a shared experience and thus, in part, helps to forge our identity.

Even though we complain about the cold, meet a Minnesotan anywhere in the world, and they are likely, at some point, to either be boastful or nostalgic about the Big Chill.

But for today, I am neither of those things. Instead, what I am is holed up inside refusing to leave my house.

Dog Run

I attended an author event last night.

Photographer Michael Crouser was in town promoting his new book, Dog Run.

The book is a coffee table book of black and white photographs of dogs that he captured at dog parks.

Because dogs tend to be in constant motion at a dog park, these aren't cuddly cute pictures of little purse pups. Instead, these pictures are all about movement and play.

Being the dog fanatic that I am, I found this book to be very cool. I especially like the really tight shots that show simply a dog's muzzle or tail.

And -- bonus -- Crouser is originally from the Twin Cities. He lives in Brooklyn now, but swings back through Minnesota often. And actually, about half the pictures in the book were taken at a dog park near Minneapolis' Lake of the Isles. The rest were taken at a dog park in Manhattan.

During the Q and A, someone asked him whether or not, after spending so much time in dog parks, he had picked up on any differences between dog owners in the two states.

Yes, he said. The New York dog owners tried to shoo him off. The didn't like that he was taking pictures of their dogs. Some even got really in his face and tried to bully him away.

The Minneapolis dog owners, on the other hand, would approach him, ask if their dog was going to be in the paper, offer to spell their dog's name and then drag him around to meet their second dog so he could get a shot of that one, too.

That response got a round of chuckles from the audience. Could we Minnesotans -- or the New Yorkers for that matter -- get any more stereotypical?

Eve of Destruction at Elko Speedway

I have discovered I possess a love for monster trucks.

Does this make me a redneck? I'm scared it might.

Over the weekend, I took a little road trip to the Elko Speedway, a race car track south of the Twin Cities.

My friend Jen and I had been planning this adventure for over a year. We keyed into it last summer but our schedules never jived with the races we wanted to see. This weekend, though, it finally all came together for a glorious night of bang up fun.

We attended the Eve of Destruction. This means that beyond the regular car races, we also got to see some fantastic, deliberate crashes.

Several laugh-out-loud events were planned, like a school bus race and a trailer race. They were crazy-8 style, which means that near misses, bumper scrapes and all out smash ups are guaranteed as the cars go round and round the track in a crisscross pattern.

At one point during the night they pulled a ramp out onto the track and had cars jumping over it Dukes-of-Hazard style.

Most impressive was when they parked a camping trailer behind the ramp and a driver sailed off it, right through the middle of the trailer blowing it to bits, and then landed and drove off without a sputter or cough of his engine.

However, the shocker of the night was how much I loved the monster trucks. I couldn't stop giggling as they whipped about the track spinning circles upon circles, popping wheelies and jumping up and over rusted cars and full-size vans.

Honestly, my stomach hurt from laughing so hard and I think a tear even squeezed from my eye.

Rolf Potts in Minneapolis

Rolf Potts, travel writer extraordinaire, made a pit stop in the Twin Cities over the weekend.

He was in town to promote his new book, Marco Polo Didn't Go There.

I've been a fan of Rolf's work for many years so when I saw that he would be speaking at the Twin Cities Book Festival, I sent him an email and arranged for an interview.

Turns out, he's as easy to talk to as he is to read. And I'm totally digging his new title, which is a collection of many of his well-known travel essays.

I've seen most of them before, but now he's offered a twist. At the end of each, he offers two to three pages of "end notes" where he goes back through the essay and tells you what he had to leave out in order to make the story work.

As a writer, I'm finding these end notes to be just as, if not more, interesting than the actual essay.

Now I just need to sit down and encapsulate our conversation in an article. Of course, I'll post a link to it here when it's done.

Eavesdropping in Minneapolis

Some days, I just have to get out of the house! It's one of the hazards in working from home. Days can go by in which I don't go anywhere and then suddenly, with little warning, a thudding commotion begins in my brain.

I develop A.D.D.

I can't concentrate on anything.

All I want to do is leave the house.

And this is how I found myself in a coffee shop eavesdropping on the table next to me. I won't even try to pretend that I don't totally love eavesdropping. It's probably one of the reasons I was so captured by the web site, Overheard in Minneapolis.

Anyway, here is what I overhead:

Early twenty-something man trying to look scruffy
when really he is not:

"The first time I ever went to New York was in July.
It was love at first sight. Actually, it was love at first step."

Overheard in Minneapolis

I have a favorite new web site:

Overheard in Minneapolis

It's a blog where people post snippets of conversations they've overheard in the vicinity of Minneapolis-St. Paul.

For example, consider this gem posted on Sept. 29:

Elderly Lady #1: Do you still have the sweaty bed?

Elderly Lady #2: Yes!

Or this, which was overheard at the University of Minnesota and posted on Sept. 26:

Girl: All this professor does is talk, talk, talk. I wish she would just shut up. That’s all ALL of my professors do. Talk, talk, talk.

Don't live in Minneapolis-St. Paul? Maybe there is an overheard blog for your neck of the woods, like New York, D.C., San Fran or Philadelphia. Wander on over to Overheard Minneapolis and check out their "around the world" page.

Memory Walk, Twin Cities

It wasn't the prettiest of mornings. It was, however, a decent day to get out and do some good.

We participated in the 2008 Memory Walk at the Highland Lake Park Reserve.

The walk was organized by the Minnesota chapter of the Alzheimer's Association, and all funds raised go to support research efforts in the fight against Alzheimer's.

Despite the overcast skies and the humid but chilly morning, an impressive crowd showed up.

We chose the three-mile route and were not alone in doing so.

The New 35W Bridge

My recent cocktail cruise on the Mississippi River brought me pretty close to the brand new 35W Bridge.

The bridge, which collapsed a year ago on August 1, 2007, re-opened just last week, on Thursday, September 18, 2008.

It's amazing to me that in just a little over one years' time, they were able to clean up the mess and rebuild the bridge while various other road construction projects in the metro drag on and on and on.

And on and on and on.

Nonetheless, here's to the brand new bridge.

Cruising the Mississippi

The mighty Mississippi cuts through downtown Minneapolis.

Seeing as how I've lived my whole life in the Minneapolis metro area, one might think I'd be well acquainted with the river. And I am ... to an extent.

I've crossed over it thousands of times. I've biked, hiked and dined along its shores. But I've never actually been on it. Or in it for that matter.

Well, things changed last night. No, I didn't go swimming. But I did go for a boat ride.

Good buddy Jen and I boarded the Minneapolis Queen, a refurbished old-time paddle boat, and took a cocktail cruise up and down the Mississippi.

The two-hour ride took us through the lock at St. Anthony Falls, which happens to be the very first lock and damn on the river.

We sailed underneath the Stone Arch Bridge, a classic Minneapolis pedestrian trek.

We also passed below the West Broadway Bridge, which I learned last night is built exactly on top of the 45th Parallel.

I was surprised to learn that the 45th Parallel marks the exact center between the North Pole and the equator. I had no idea that this line cut through my city.

So, as it turns out, not only did I finally get myself onto the Mississippi River, I also learned something new about this little spot on the globe that I call home.

And it was a beautiful night to boot.

Just a few of the local trees had started to turn to their autumn tones. The windless evening ensured that the river water, when it wasn't being disturbed by the spinning paddle of the Minneapolis Queen, stretched glass-like to its banks.

Plus, the passing city's lights twinkled on as the sun set.

Putting a Cork In It

One of the things I like most about being a freelance writer is that my assignments put me in contact with cool people who are doing cool things.

Yesterday I met Andy and Dan, two men who've set up shop in St. Paul. Their business is called Vine Park Brewing Company.

When you go there, they help you make your own beer and wine. They supply all the equipment, know how and fermenting space. You supply the elbow grease.

When I called to set up my interview, they invited me over to check out the joint and join them in making of some wine. I agreed, figuring I'd just sort of observe and take notes.

Instead, they tied an apron around my waist and put me to work stuffing corks into freshly filled bottles of wine! When I finally looked up from all my corking, two hours had passed!

I wasn't complaining, however. Now I know exactly how a cork is squeezed into a bottle top, which is something I'd always sort of vaguely wondered about.

I even got to bring a few of those Kelly-corked bottles home. But I'm not supposed to drink them yet.

Even those this Zinfandel had already fermented away for six weeks on a back room shelf at Vine Park, it still needs another nine months or so to age.

I hope I corked those bottles tight! It won't be until June 2009 that I pop their tops.

RNC in MSP

We made it home from Hawaii just in time for the kick-off of the Republican National Convention.

We arrived back in MSP (airport speak for Minneapolis - St.Paul), wondering whether or not the place would be a zoo. While there was plenty of convention decor (welcome signs and balloons), the place was actually quite tame.

At first we thought this was due to our early morning arrival; we were standing around the baggage claim at 5:45 am. Then we turned on the news to learn about Gustav and the "toned down" affair. We also wondered, though, if most of the delegates hadn't actually beat us into town.

At any rate, now that we're back and settled in, we've hardly noticed there is a massive gathering of people going on in town.

Working from home means it's easy to sequester yourself if you want to, and that's what we've been doing, staying far away from both downtown neighborhoods.

And according to the local news reports we've been hearing, that's been a reasonable choice on our part.

While the convention is now regaining its momentum, those first few days of unexpected downtime sent the delegates and their like out and into the city, taking up bar stools and tables everywhere.

All Lit Up at the Japanese Lantern Festival

It was a glorious weekend in the Twin Cities and to mark its end, we headed to Como Park in St. Paul for the Japanese Lantern Festival.

The festival takes place each August on a Sunday night. The event gets underway at about 3 pm just outside the front gates of the Como Conservatory.

Crowd fences are erected around the lush lawns, gardens and ponds that spill forth from the conservatory, and food and vendor booths set up inside.

A stage is also brought in. Dancers and musicians entertain the crowds until the sun sets and the lantern lighting begins.

This was our first time attending the lantern festival so we didn't really know what to expect and we were surprised by the number of people there. We stood in line to reach the front gate, and again to order food.

Perhaps it was the incredibly beautiful weather combined with the festival's promise of a lit up night that brought so many people out.

Because it was our first time at the event, we made sure to pick up a brochure explaining the festivities on our way in.

Turns out, the Japanese Lantern Festival is similar to Mexico's Day of the Dead. Reading the literature, that's what both Quang and I said.

According to our brochure, there is a three-day period each August in which the Japanese believe that the souls of the dead return to Earth to mingle with their families.

This three-day period is called "Obon" and it is an important holiday for the Japanese.

Families visit gravesites and decorate them with drinks and food. They light lanterns outside their homes so that the souls will know they are being awaited.

And then on the last night of Obon, communities light lanterns again to help guide the souls back to the other world. This is what we witnessed last night.

London, France & Underpants at the Fringe

Ooh la la.

Last night we went to a variety burlesque show as part of the Minnesota Fringe.

The show was performed by the troop from Lili's Burlesque.

For the Fringe, they dubbed their bit "The Underpants Show."

And underpants we did see. There was also liberal use of pasties and feather boas.

But this was so more than a strip tease show. There was a UPS man who danced a duo with a dolly. There was a ukulele ditty about the trials of making out in a canoe.

And there was a healthy dose of audience participation, which just made everything all the more fun.

So much fun, in fact, that should Lili's Burlesque return to the Fringe next year, they will be at the top of my list to go and see ... and recommend.

After the show, we walked half a block to Erte, a locally-owned and fancily-decorated restaurant/bar.

Eager to retain the high spirits that I was in after watching The Underpants Show, I ordered up a martini even though it came with a double-digit price tag.

Good thing I brought my designated driver hubby along with me. There was $10 worth of alcohol inside that $10 martini.

Gypsy Passion at the Minnesota Fringe

It's that time of year again. It's time to Fringe.

What's a Fringe?

In Minneapolis, it's 10 days of "experimental" theater. The performers might be (but probably aren't) professional actors, comedians, playwrights, dancers, choreographers or musicians. Most likely, they want to be, but it's just as likely they are Fringing for fun.

The shows aren't planned by a governing body or board of directors. Instead, people submit their ideas for a production and then applications are drawn from a pot until all the show times are filled.

This means you never really know what you're going to get when you go to a Fringe show. The actors might be awkward. The audio might be scratchy. The audience might be slim. But that's the fun, and the point, of it all. Plus, you never know. Maybe you're watching the next Diablo Cody in action; she did, after all, write "Juno" right here in the Twin Cities.

I don't suspect, however, that the Fringe show I saw last night is about to take Hollywood by storm. It was called Gypsy Passion and it was, bascially, 60 minutes of bellydancing performed by middle-aged (or almost middle-aged) women.

I have to give these gals credit though. I wasn't up there baring my belly and I certainly wasn't up there giggling my bare belly in front of a bunch of strangers.

If nothing else, I enjoyed the opportunity to go into zone mode and listen to funky music while focusing on little more than a bunch of swirling women in pretty colors.

Licks Unlimited

Last night there was a party on my tongue.

It was a gooey, chocolaty, fudgey, fruity medley of bliss. It was ice cream and it was from a little shop called Licks Unlimited.

Licks Unlimited is in a little-town-turned-suburb of Minneapolis called Excelsior that sits on the banks of beautiful Lake Minnetonka.

Excelsior used to be an exclusive resort town, back in the day when women carried parasols and the most powerful of men were railroad barons.

Now that there are modern highways to whisk you there, anyone can easily pass a summer evening on Excelsior's old-time main street drag eating dinner, lapping ice cream, walking the boardwalk and seeing a movie. And that's exactly what we did. The highlight of the evening, though, by far, was our stop in Licks Unlimited.

I spotted the flavor I wanted almost immediately. It was called Chocolate Truffle, or Chocolate Heaven, or Chocolate Brownie Bits, or Chocolate Raspberry Delight, or something like that. I don't remember its proper name. Instead, the name that sticks in my head is "A Party On The Tongue."

That's exactly what the fresh-faced, blond-haired Minnesota boy behind the counter said when I asked if it was good.

"A party on the tongue? You're making that up!" I said.

"No, I'm not. That's what everyone says about it," he replied, a smile stretching from ear to ear and almost beyond.

We bantered then, once I saw that he was up for the play, about whether or not any of the other flavors could ever hope to rise up and be better than "A Party On The Tongue."

"Is this just the best summer job ever?" I finally quizzed.

"This is my fifth summer here, and yes it is," he stated firmly.

At this point, another fresh-faced, blond-haired Minnesota boy came out from the back room. "I'm 23 and I still work here every summer," he said. "I've had this job since I was 14, and I even own my own carpet company now!"

"Is it hard to get a job here?" I asked.

"Yes it is," answered the second boy, the 23-year-old. "We get a hundred applications a year."

"So what did you have on your application that got you this job?" I wondered.

"A brother," said the first boy.

"No, it's not about the application," the second one said. "It's about personality. If you don't have that, you don't get the job."

Of Chocolate and Tres Leches

I love chocolate.

However, mine is not a simple love. Chocolate and I have a very complex relationship. Indeed, it could be said that one does not fully understand me until one fully understands the depth of my chocolate cravings.

And yet, recently, just this month in fact, I encountered a dessert so good that it has almost made me (gasp) forget chocolate.

It is the very un-chocolaty tres leches cake from Masa, a fancy Mexican restaurant in downtown Minneapolis.

I wrote of my first Masa tres leches encounter here on this blog and I've also been talking it up to those within ear shot.

And last night, I also managed to talk my hubby and another couple into heading downtown and getting some tres leches cake.

Masa is kiddy-corner from Minneapolis' Orchestra Hall and on warm summer weekends, there is free music outside in the plaza. We stopped in at Masa and ordered up the dessert to go.

We ordered two slices of tres leches, and then, just as the hostess took off for the kitchen, my chocolate dark side got the better of me. I called her back and switched one of the tres leches slices to the chocolate cake.

A massive Frida Kahlo posed in the entrance way kept us company as we waited for our take out cake. Once it arrived, we took it across the street to Peavy Plaza for some people watching, some music listening and some sweet eating.

I was a little worried that I'd built up the tres leches to such epic goodness that it wouldn't impress my friends. But it was every bit as delicious as I remembered and all of us were sucking our forks clean of every last tres leches lick.

And even though the chocolate cake was also very good, I actually (double gasp) preferred the (you guessed it) tres leches.

Night-O-Neil

Good Beer.

Good Food.

Good Coffee.

Good Chocolate.

Good Songs.

Good Friends.

What more could a girl want from a night on the town? Not much.

Months ago, while shopping for Mother's Day gifts for our moms, my friend J.P. and I came up with this fantastic plan: Neil Diamond was coming to town. Since our parents are the best-est of friends, wouldn't it be grand if we rolled Mother's Day and Father's Day into one and took them all to the Neil Diamond concert? Well, that's exactly what we did and last night was the night.

We headed for St. Paul, as that's where the concert was scheduled to play, and started the night at Great Waters, a local brew pub. There were eight of us around the table and between appetizers and the main meal, we managed to sample many of their beers.

The sky had been cloud-covered all day, but as our server cleared away our dinner plates, blue was showing overhead. We paid up and decided to stroll through downtown St. Paul.

We ended up in the lobby of the St. Paul Hotel, a posh place poised to host the biggest of big spenders when the Republican convention rolls in to town in just one month's time. But we weren't staying the night, we were simply looking for coffee and dessert and they obliged, of course.

And finally it was time for Neil. He put on quite a show, singing just a few tunes from his new album but mostly sticking to his oldies and goodies. He encouraged hearty audience participation with Sweet Caroline, Song Sung Blue, Forever in Blue Jeans, Cracklin' Rose and America.

So great are this songs, however, that the crowd hardly needed prompting to join in. Being the entertainer that he is, Mr. Diamond probably learned long ago that it's useless to stop people from singing along. Better to let them join in and feel a part of the show.

And feel a part of the show I did, even though I was on the "young" side of the average audience age. But music enthusiasts always say that music transcends language and culture. And if it's really good music, it can even transcend generations.

Tres Servings of Masa's Tres Leches

My friend Jen (who is as Che obsessed as me) turned another year better this week and in honor of her birthday, we headed out for a fancy dinner on the town. We went to Masa, a trendy spendy Mexican place on Nicollet Mall in downtown Minneapolis.

It was Jen's pick, but I was equally eager to eat there. Last year, not long after the restaurant's doors first opened, I interviewed the head chef - Saul Chavez - about his Mexican upbringing for an article I was writing. Mexican food, he had said, wasn't all refried beans and tacos, and through Masa's menu, he was trying to showcase the finer side of Mexican cuisine.

Consider it showcased! Between the cocktails and the main plates (mine being a scrumptiously rich chicken mole) Jen and I managed to wrack up a $70 bill!

When it was time for dessert I deferred to Jen. It was her birthday, after all, and anyway, I already knew exactly what she was going to pick: the tres leches cake.
Jen loves tres leches cake. I could live without it; chocolate will forever call my name. But since I often hang out with Jen, and since we often go out for dessert, I've sampled many a tres leches about town.

However, Masa's tres leches cake is the best tres leches cake I've ever had!

I had only planned on one bite, maybe two. Instead, I gobbled half the helping, and even scarfed down the last two fork fulls once Jen said she was all done.

The cake was ultra moist, as tres leches is supposed to be, but unlike so many of the other tres leches I've tasted, this one wasn't overly wet. Its white, whipped topping was dusted with zest of lime and two swirls of refreshing fruit puree - one mango, the other grapefruit - polished off the presentation.

I could easily have eaten tres servings of this tres leches!

Towing the Labyrinth Line

There is a labyrinth in a public garden not far from my home. I've known of its existence for some time now, but just never got around to checking it out. Today, however, in an attempt to break myself out of my mental summer slump, I decided to go seek something new in my own back yard.

A labyrinth, I knew, was not a maze, not a place to enter and get lost. Well, actually it is. But unlike a maze where the point is to get lost, turned around and successfully back out again for fun, a labyrinth is a place to get lost in thought, a place for serious contemplation.

I doubted this would work on me. I have a hard time turning off my brain and it didn't seem like following a path of paverstones set in the grass would be an activity capable of overhauling my mind and shutting it down.

But guess what! It did!

I took my first step, wound myself along the path and before I knew it, all thoughts of my nagging to-do list were gone. All I focused on was the path and the way the blades of grass grew up in between the stones.

By the time I reached the center stone, the end of the line, my body felt so compelled to keep trailing the path that it was a jolt to my consciousness to have stopped moving.

I noted the sensation, curious that the ancient idea of a labyrinth had worked some sort of magic on me, and then turned around and retraced my steps, going out the same way I went in.

Minne-Apple No More

GoNomad recently posted another one of my stories:

Minne-Apple No More: Minneapolis Steps into the Spotlight.

Max had asked me long ago to pen a guide to Minneapolis. Finally, finally, I got around to doing it. What I came up with was a list of arty activities to do in the city.

Anyone thinking Minneapolis is fly-over country, should follow the link, scroll through the theater, museum and music listings and change their mind.

Supporting the Sorta Hometown Girl

Ever since the movie Juno was released in December, screenplay writer Diablo Cody has been getting a lot of media attention -- especially here in the Twin Cities.

Minnesota loves to promote its own and even though Cody only lived in the Twin Cities for a short time, and doesn't live here anymore, seemingly every local publication has pumped out glowing articles about her and her ascent into the national spotlight, which started right here in little ol' Minneapolis.

Of course hubby and I went to see Juno soon after it opened. To not have would have felt like we were breaking some sort of law, such was the glitter and fanfare it received. And it was fun to hear the characters reference such backyard landmarks like "Ridgedale Mall" in the film.

When Juno received four Academy Award nominations (best actress, best screenplay, best director and best film), we nodded our heads and concurred that yes, it had been a good show.

So when I came across a stack of hardcover copies of Candy Girl: A Year in the Life of an Unlikely Stripper for 4 bucks at Barnes and Noble the other day, I had to get one. Before she wrote Juno, Cody wrote Candy Girl and it's filled with Minneapolis references.

I read it over the weekend. It was a VERY fast read. And I was actually kinda surprised by the fact that all the place names weren't disguised. One could actually use Candy Girl as a sort of guidebook to Minneapolis Strip Clubs (if one were looking for that sort of thing).

But, after closing the back cover, I still had one question. Why is the book called Candy Girl?

I kept thinking that "Candy" was going to have been her stripper stage name, but it wasn't.

I feel like I'm overlooking something totally obvious. Anyone out there know the reason behind the title?

Oh, Those Hot-Humid Days of Yore

It's really cold here in Minneapolis. Sub-zero cold. Negative-30-degrees-wind-chill cold.

It's that time of year when I ask myself, "Why do I live here?"

And yet, I kinda like the frigid temps. Not because I'm a glutton for frostbite, but because life indoors turns all cozy and comfy. The freezing air is a logical, perfect reason to stay at home, eat hot soup, stay in my pajamas all day, drink loads of coffee and read books (as if I needed an excuse to read books).

My most recent read took me someplace far away and far hotter than home: Burma.

I snuggled up with my doggies and Emma Larkin's book Finding George Orwell in Burma. The title had been on my radar since its release for a couple of reasons.

One - It was written by a woman and I'm always interested in travel tales penned by the ladies.

Two - It was about George Orwell and his life in Burma. One of my all time favorite pieces of writing is an Orwell essay called "A Hanging", which takes place there.

Three - I went to Burma and love to read about places I've been.

Four - This past fall, when Burma (also known as Myanmar) was making daily headlines, a friend asked me what she could do to help the Burmese. I think, the best thing we can do, is to first inform ourselves about what is going on there, to really understand the problem.

After reading Finding George Orwell in Burma, I feel like I understand the country's situation much, much better. Having been to the country, I was totally blown away by the author's travel courage.

When my hubby and I look back on our one week in Burma, we often say that we can't believe how lucky we were to have gotten in, gotten around and gotten out without any major problems.

We were smart travelers, used to the road and used to hassles when we landed in Burma, and still, the country knocked us flat. It was an emotionally draining place to be a budget backpacker. The heat, the culture, the inequity, the level to which the country was under-developed, all of it seeped into our heads and muddled our thoughts and yet we knew that in such a different, different land, we had to remain alert.

For anyone looking to learn a little more about Burma, I highly recommend Larkin's book. It is intelligent, well-written and incredibly interesting.

* Photos
- cover art for Finding George Orwell in Burma
- my own foggy shot of a fisherman on Burma's Inle Lake

TC Green

I did a little holiday shopping this weekend. The first place I hit was a store I've been reading a lot of press about: Twin Cities Green.

The store is operated by a Twin Cities couple. This is their second store front. The first, Re-Gift, is also in Minneapolis.

The stores specialize in selling recycled and reclaimed goods that are fairly-traded or made from organic/sustainable materials.

There was furniture big and small. For example, there was an entire bedroom set but there were also end tables. There were Christmas tree ornaments, lamp shades, martini glasses, tins of lip balm, tubes of diaper rash cream, squares of dark chocolate and rolls of 100 percent recycled toilet paper called Shit-B-Gone.

It certainly wasn't crowded when I stopped by, however, there were a fair number of people milling about and I did have to wait in a line two-deep before making my purchase.

I only found a couple items as it seemed the shelves had been picked over, which (while frustrating as a shopper) made me happy for the retailers. My visit made me curious enough to want to seek out Re-Gifts. I didn't make it this weekend, but it's now on my shortened to-do list.

Mmm Bop Grows Up and Gives Back

I really should read the Sunday paper on Sunday. When I don't, I miss out on good stuff. Like this:

Hanson - that teeny bopper boy band of three blond-haired brothers from the 1990s - was in Minneapolis yesterday and performing at First Avenue.

FIRST AVENUE!!!

If you're not a Twin Cities person, this might not mean anything to you. Let me fill me you in. First Avenue is where Prince got his start. It's the setting for the movie Purple Rain. The building occupies a downtown Minneapolis corner and is painted pitch black -- inside and out.

The outside walls are studded with silver stars boasting the names of musicians that have played there, names like U2, the Ramones, Soul Aslymn and Cake. The interior walls, again, are black. The focus is not the decor, which is quite lacking, but the stage.

It's hardly the sort of place where a one-hit-wonder boy band makes a come back. Or is it?

Turns out the Hanson brothers have grown up. So have their politics. And so has their music.

The brothers had been spending time in Africa, doing philanthropic deeds, and decided to record a song with a South African child choir.

Proceeds from the download of the resulting song, Great Divide, support relief work in Africa. Check out the video...

Need Magazine: Ideas for Giving

It's snowing here in the Twin Cities and this morning I wrapped myself up in a thick blanket with a pot of coffee and the newest issue of Need Magazine, which is published right here in Minneapolis.

If you've never heard of Need Magazine, that's because it's quite new. It's only been around for a year. Its tagline sums up its mission quite well: "We're not out to save the world, but to tell the stories of those who are."

As a traveler, I'm drawn to the magazine because many of its articles are about far away places.

As a reader, I've found I appreciate the layout -- lots of white space, nice color photographs and good writing.

In this issue there is an article about several nonprofit organizations that do good in various parts of the world. I learned about Nothing but Nets, a group that buys and distributes mosquito nets in Africa to help prevent the spread of malaria. Just $10 buys and ships one net.

There is also a nice profile about a man named Jorge Chojolan, an indigenous Mayan man who overcame poverty and started The Miguel Angel Asturias Academy, a school for 200 children in Xela, Guatemala's second largest city.

And if you're still on the hunt for a unique holiday gift for a traveler you know, I think a subscription to Need would be a great idea.

Browsing Book Arts

I attended an afternoon workshop at the Loft, a writer's organization in Minneapolis. I didn't leave when the class was done, however. I stuck around and browsed book arts.

One of the reasons I love the Loft is that it shares its restored warehouse building with a handful of book-minded organizations, one of them being the Minnesota Center for Book Arts.

The MN Center for Book Arts holds classes on papermaking, letter pressing, book binding and the sorts. Several paper artists were holding a craft sale and I spent at least an hour happily wandering their stalls and marveling at what people can do with paper.

I even picked up a Christmas present or two.

*book arts banner © MN Center for Book Arts

Georgia vs. Frida in Minneaplis

Every once in a while, being a freelance-writer comes in handy. Yesterday was one of those days.

I was invited on an art tour by Meet Minneapolis, the city's revamped tourism board. The Twin Cities are gearing up for a big tourism push as the Republican National Convention is coming to town next fall.

The redesign of all the official tourism materials is just one of many steps the city is taking to help promote the area before it will be so prominently on display to the nation. Somehow my name ended up on the communication department's list of freelance travel writers. I wasn't about to complain.

The morning started at the Minneapolis Institute of Arts, one of my favorite places in the city. The massive permanent collection is open free to the public, and I've always liked to wander the halls, seeking my old favorites and waiting for new pieces to catch my eyes.

But on this day I was entering the featured exhibit for free - with a docent - before the doors even opened to the public. I was so excited.

The featured exhibit from now until January 6 is a collection of works by Georgia O'Keeffe. The exhibit starts with a charcoal drawing from her very first show and ends with a charcoal drawing made at the end of her life. The two are oddly similar. Eerily so. It makes the exhibit feel like it completes a full circle. It also makes it seem as if Georgia O'Keeffe herself struggled, or was obsessed with, reoccurring ideas/images throughout her life.

I was drawn to this painting, one from a series of images she made with pelvic bones in her beloved New Mexico. I so liked this one because as soon as I saw it, it reminded me of this picture I shot on the Perito Moreno Glacier in Argentine Patagonia.

After having our Georgia fill, the group of freelancers was loaded into a van and shuttled to the Walker Art Center for a tour of that museum's current featured show: Frida Kahlo.

I have a sort of love-hate relationship with the Walker. I love its funky, boxy, outer shell. I love the very idea that this museum is able to exist in my hometown. The Walker is an ultra modern art museum. Everything in its permanent collection was produced after 1945. Sometimes, when I go there, I look at the installations and think, "What the hell is that?" This ain't no stuffy museum. I've seen things here that make me blush.

This past year, the Walker has knocked itself out to bring some big name shows to town. Over the summer, a Picasso exhibit took over the joint. Now, Frida Kahlo has moved in. She'll be there through January 20, 2008.

Unfortunately, the Walker was already open and the Frida exhibit was already packed (yes, packed on a Thursday morning) when we got there at 10 am. Being a novice Frida connoisseur, I was shocked to see the walls were filled with serious pieces, I mean big-time, famous Frida paintings. The Two Fridas. A Few Small Nips. The Henry Ford Hospital. At least five of the paintings were on loan from a museum in Mexico City's Chapultepec Park, a museum I visited when I was there. Also on display is a huge collection of personal family photographs of Frida and Diego.

After a nice lunch, my media tour was done. I will certainly be heading back to the Walker to take in the Frida exhibit at my leisure. Although, now I just have to figure out when to get there so I can have the art to myself....

* Minneapolis Montage, Meet Minneapolis
* Geogria O'Keeffe, Pelvis Series, 1947
* Walker Magazine cover, Nov/Dec 2007