The Good Things

   It's been a week since my last post and, after re-reading it, I thought it was sooooo negative. I guess it was fallout from so many miles and so many days away but I don't want you all to think things were bad else why would we continue to do it? With that in mind I want to present some good things to give you a more balanced perspective.

  Penny and I have traveled many thousands of miles over the years and almost all of them can be filed under "getting there". You've all done it. Get in the car, drive for endless hours to get to the destination where all the things are, then drive all those endless hours back when you're done. Flying? Get on the plane to fly to the special place, do all the things, fly back.

  For this trip we decided to experience all the things we'd been driving past over the years and that's what made it all so much fun. With the help of Atlas Obscura we found a giant fork, a restaurant catering to aliens, a house shaped like a fish... I could go on. The point is, during our previous travels we would have zipped right past in a rush to get where we were going. This time we were able to smell the proverbial roses.

  When we did move into our temporary lodgings to house and pet sit it was never like being in a hotel or an AirBnB. They weren't generic living spaces designed so as not to offend the paying visitors. These were peoples' homes, decorated the way they liked them, containing all their memories and belongings. They were also their pets' homes and, for a short time, ours as well.

  The people that agreed to let us into their homes took a giant leap of faith. They asked total strangers to look after their homes and their pets. I still have trouble with this concept. Most of the people we sat for interviewed us during Zoom calls so they had an idea of who we are. One couple only exchanged a couple of emails with me before deciding we were "the ones". In all cases they invited us into their homes and trusted us not to rob them, damage things or kidnap their pets. I'm not sure we would have done the same for them!

  I guess we were all the things they expected as we received sterling reviews from all of them. As we do more of this we'll gather enough reviews to form a sort of resume, a portfolio of our experiences that will stand us in good stead as we aim for more exotic locales. As well, we know for certain some of those people intend to invite us back, so that's something we didn't expect.

  Bonus fun fact: we spent a LOT less doing all this traveling than if we'd stayed home. With our belongings in storage we didn't have to pay for rent and utilities. Most of our gas costs were paid for by the money we received for sitting in San Francisco. Most of our hotel stays were paid for with points. We didn't eat in a lot of restaurants, except when we were on the road. Groceries, admission costs for attractions and the odd round of golf made up most of our expenses.

  In the end we did manage to answer all of the questions we had about this house sitting thing. Enjoy lots of traveling? Check. Enjoy caring for other peoples' pets? Check. Enjoy living in strangers' houses in strange places? Check. Save significant dollars over living at home? Check.

  While we're here at our temporary home base with Jen and the boys for the next two plus weeks I'll be hard at work planning the next sojourn. This one's more challenging though. Since we'll be away in October and November our goal is to find warm places to stay, preferably near beaches. For some bizarre reason there's a lot of competition for these spots. Can't understand why.

  Since we also want to go further afield next year, ie, outside North America, we'll also have to manage the "no car" challenge. Sits in urban areas aren't much of a problem given most cities' transit systems but rural properties require a car. Some homeowners will provide a car (again... to strangers?) but they're not common. One place where it seems more prevalent is Australia, so we may end up there next year. More questions to answer.

  Like everything else we've encountered, we're confident all of it will work itself out. We've challenged ourselves to get waaaaaayyyy out of our comfort zone this summer so we're well fixed to handle whatever comes our way. I guess that what makes it all so much fun.

  I'm not expecting to produce more episodes until we get ready to hit the road in two weeks, when we head off to Mobile, AL. Until then, we'll enjoy being home, surrounded by family and friends, squeezing a few more rounds of golf into our diminishing summer and rooting on my beloved Blue Jays. Those of you waiting for my next installment will have to take up other bad habits until I return. Don't do anything I wouldn't do.

Some Random Thoughts

   Hey gang! It's been a week since we returned to the sunny climes of Southern Ontario and I feel like I left you all high and dry with my last episode. Yes, we completed our first house sitting adventure and it was all the things we hoped it would be but, as I intimated earlier, there's more to come. Before I get into our future plans I thought it might be a good time to dredge up a few random thoughts about the past four months.

DRIVING

  Yes, we did a ton of driving, about 18,000 km worth. We drove on interstate highways and isolated desert backroads; in small towns with a single intersection and large, traffic-clogged cities; through blistering heat and icy hail. We drove through some of the most spectacular scenery in North America, an awe-inspiring panorama displayed on our windshield for hours on end. Driving a car allows you to see both the best and the worst a country has to offer and you get to make all the decisions, good and bad.

  Don't get me wrong. I love planes, trains and ferries too. I'm fascinated by big things that move. The difference is that I'm not in control; I have to go where they go and work my itinerary around them. When I drive I'm in control and, if you know me well, that's where I'm most comfortable.

  Driving wasn't all roses and sunshine though. If you followed us you'll remember the flat tire on one of the busiest stretches of I-5 south of Seattle. The endless flatness of eastern Wyoming, South Dakota and Minnesota was brain-numbing. That hairpin turn at the top of the mountain in the Sierras? Not so much. Sitting endlessly in traffic snarls in ______ (insert city name here).

  The biggest negative? Google Maps. Without a doubt. Not even close. Maps is the best driving aid yet conceived. Tell it where you want to go and it tells you how to get there after only a few seconds consideration. Ask it where the closest gas station, restaurant or grocery store is and, voila, answers galore. It's available everywhere. We used it navigating Mauritius and the townships of South Africa. Piece of cake. Except.

  Maps has an annoying tendency to default to the fastest route without considering how much faster that route is than the standard, everyone-goes-this-way route. Exhibit A, in South Africa, had us navigating potholed, goat-obstructed, ghetto lanes which were likely only two to three minutes faster than taking the established main roads. The same thing happened in Mauritius, resulting in trying to drive through one-lane alleys at night with no road signs. Well, it happened all over the U.S. too, without the pot holes and goats. It's taken a while but I've finally gotten into the habit of using the Android Auto icon for checking alternate routes before I commit to the recommended one. I take an extra minute or two but there's less goat shit on our car.

  The other annoying Maps trait is not telling you a turn immediately follows the one you're currently executing. This happened a lot in Minneapolis, making me look like an idiot tourist while I cut off other drivers and drove through cemeteries trying to correct for the immediate turn I just missed. You know what I'm talking about. It tells you to turn right then cross four lanes of busy rush hour traffic to turn left in twenty meters, except it doesn't tell you that until you've completed the first turn.

  Finally, there are assholes. Penny and I had a discussion about this yesterday after driving home from golfing with Ben and Sandi. She says I spend a lot of time yelling at people while driving. It's constant, she says. I don't disagree. After all, I'm pretty sure I'm the only competent driver wherever I go. Ok, not the only one, but the other guy had the day off yesterday. In the interest of maintaining my wife's sanity I'm going to make a concerted effort to stop criticizing every other driver's boneheaded decisions. I'll just hum a little tune or tap a finger on the steering wheel or develop a nasty nervous tic where one eye twitches uncontrollably. It'll be fine. I love driving.

STICKS

  The U.S. is filled with things on sticks. I think it started as a way to advertise to drivers on the interstate highways. Signs for gas stations went up on sticks so they could be seen a mile away. Then roadside restaurants and truck stops followed suit. This was followed by fireworks stores, casinos and adult superstores. There are sticks everywhere but that's not what I'm focused on. We sought out unusual things on sticks and were rewarded on a constant basis.

  Let's start with food. The ubiquitous corn dog is served on a stick. At county fairs in the Midwest they like to serve a pork chop on a stick. There's the smoked turkey leg which, although not attached to a stick, behaves like one when you grasp the leg bone. Ice cream on a stick, chicken and waffles on a stick, walleye on a stick... you get the picture. I guess it's environmentally responsible since the wooden stick is biodegradable and I'll leave it at that.

  Military on a stick. We saw a lot of fighter jets on sticks. There was one here, in Hamilton, that looked uncomfortable with a stick shoved up it's exhaust. In Minnesota there was a small airport with three jets with sticks inserted anally. We saw a tank on a stick. Jeeps on sticks. A cannon on a stick. Soldiers on sticks. Guns on sticks. I must be old but I remember when military artifacts were mounted on concrete bases with bronze plaques affixed. Sigh.

  We saw mammals on sticks, giant insects on sticks, furniture on sticks, a guitar on a stick, a piano on a stick, cars and trucks on sticks. You name it, it's on a stick somewhere. I can't count the number of times I had to crop photos of interesting objects because 75% of the frame was a stick. As a kid I played Pick Up Sticks. This was just plain Sticks. Enough about sticks.

HOTELS

  We stayed in a lot of hotels during our travels between house sits. We stayed in nice hotels and we stayed in shitty motels. We stayed in hotels in jerkwater towns and big cities. They all shared some weird characteristics.

  Pillows. There's a disturbing trend towards tiny, too soft pillows. Many of them. Most places have decided they need to supply four tiny pillows on a king-sized bed. It's weird. Giant bed. Tiny pillows. Ok, let's stack them up in piles of two. Nope. They're so soft you're in danger of suffocating as they wrap around your head as it sinks in. If they're on a too-soft bed then you're doubly in danger as, if you survive the pillows you'll end up with an aching neck or back in the morning. Rare is the hotel with a firm bed and decent pillows.

  Breakfast. Often included but rarely edible. Beware the budget-friendly hotel that includes a  "breakfast buffet". Imagine two steam tables, one containing wet, rubbery sausages the other powdery scrambled eggs from a carton. No good? You can always have a cellophane-wrapped muffin made by Otis Spunkmeyer. Yes, really. Look it up.

  There were a couple of places that provided an almost enjoyable breakfast with drinkable coffee and food that tasted like something but they were noteworthy in their scarcity. In general, we had better luck with fast-food breakfasts than we did with the "breakfast buffet".

  Speaking of coffee, like many of you, I grew up on the vision of Americans endlessly drinking coffee. A "cup of joe" was the iconic Yankee drink. You would think that would make Americans discerning coffee drinkers. Nope. Unless you want to pay for specialty cafe coffee or Starbucks every cup of coffee you drink in the United States will taste like dishwater... or worse. Tea? Forget it. It can be had but you've got to work at it. On the other hand, if it's something sweet or alcoholic you're in luck. No other country in the world is as sugar and alcohol-obsessed as the good ol' US of A. Every convenience store we entered had literal walls of coolers dedicated to sugary drinks and beer. No wonder obesity is a problem.

  Bathrooms. I get that an exhaust fan is necessary both from an odour-relieving and a moisture-relieving perspective but do they have to be connected to the light switch? There's nothing like getting up in to use the bathroom in the middle of the night only to turn on the light and a jet engine-powered exhaust fan starts up while you scramble to get the door closed before waking up everyone within a hundred yards. Try it, it's not fun.

CREDIT CARDS

  Ok, how difficult is it to effectively deal with credit cards at gas pump and restaurants?

  In Canada, every (I mean every) gas station allows you to pay at the pump using your PIN-enabled credit card. Every (again, every) restaurant brings a card reader to your table. No one takes your card. Hell, even backwards, can't keep the electricity running South Africa manages to use portable terminals at restaurants.

  Everywhere we traveled in the U.S. we had to be careful which gas stations we stopped at. The mainstream, top-dollar places had PIN-enabled pumps but the lower cost places used some bizarre zip code scheme to validate your card. There is a way for Canadians to do this but we had changed our address before we left on this trip and there was no consistency as to which gas companies were aware of the change.

  Restaurants take your card, run it through the register and bring it back to you to sign the register receipt. I remember doing this in Canada twenty years ago. The United States is supposed to be the most technologically advanced nation in the world but can't deal with credit cards efficiently. Another sigh.

  Ok, rants over. It was a great trip and I worked very hard to ensure you all got a taste of everything we did and everywhere we went. I just thought this would be a good time to see behind the scenes. Till next time.

Home At Last

  It's been a long haul but we're almost at the end of our epic journey. Tonight we're sleeping in a little part of Indiana on the east side of Lake Michigan. Tomorrow, we have an eight hour drive home that brings us to the end of our 18,000 km loop:

  The last few days have been a bit of a whirlwind. Monday we took our friends' son, Alex, and his wife, Jen, to see a Minnesota Twins ballgame at Target Field.

  Aside from the game being a total bore the ballpark was a pleasant surprise. Unlike T-Mobile Park in Seattle we were treated to open concourses and decent food at affordable prices. There wasn't much of a crowd there but, even with a normal crowd, I don't think it would be as difficult to navigate as it's Seattle counterpart.

  The ballpark is right downtown (near the pointless Nicollet Mall from an earlier episode) with lots of parking and nice views of the surroundings:

  At the game Alex asked if we'd been to the Spam Museum (yes, it's a thing) as he and Jen had been there over the weekend and had a good time. As we're always up for a good time that doesn't involve eating live insects or jumping off bridges attached to giant rubber bands, we decided Tuesday would be an Atlas Obscura day and headed off to explore southwest Minnesota.

  Our first stop was Clear Lake, Iowa. Wait. Yes, I said southwest Minnesota but this is special. If you're of a certain age you'll remember a certain megahit from the early 1970's that was played endlessly on AM radio (look it up kids), "American Pie" by Don McLean. The backstory to the song refers to "the day the music died", that is, when the airplane carrying Buddy Holly, Richie Valens and The Big Bopper crashed in a field near this town in 1959.

  Although we didn't hike the half-mile through the corn field to the actual crash site we did see the memorial tribute to Buddy Holly:

...and the shout out to Don McLean:

  Then we hopped back in the car and took ourselves to the aforementioned Spam Museum.

  Austin, MN, is home to Hormel which makes Spam and also owns a number of well-known brands. I won't bore you with the details as you can always look it up. The museum is devoted to the history and marketing of its eponymous product and manages to do it with tongue firmly planted in cheek.

  There is an exhibit focused on Monty Python (spam, spam, spam and eggs, etc):

  They also offer an explanation of how "spam" came to describe junk email. Apparently, a careless sys admin mistakenly forwarded an email to 200 people and, like the Pythonesque example above, the repetition suggested it would be an apt description of his mistake. History explained.

  There's another exhibit that asks you to assemble a can of Spam and times your efforts, then tells you how many would have been produced at the nearby factory in the same timespan. My personal best was 15 seconds during which the factory would have churned out 107. I think it would be a better test of my ability to find out how long it takes to get this stuff out of the can as I remember fighting with it on many occasions over the years.

  The nice people who run the place also try to expand your horizons by serving samples of the different varieties of their product. When we visited, the "Tocino" and "Jalapeno" versions were offered, both of which we found quite tasty, which resulted in our purchasing said product from the in-house shop.

By the way, "tocino" is a Filipino BBQ-style sauce. Now you know.

  After a thorough viewing of the entire place we said our goodbyes to the friendly Spam people and headed back home by way of Rochester, MN, home of the Mayo Clinic and this work of art:

  It's also worth noting we came across a roofing company whose motto is, "Our roofs block alien abductions". This raises a whole shitload of questions. How did they test their roofs? Are alien abductions a thing in Minnesota? If aliens have the technology to travel thousands of light years to find us why are asphalt shingles preventing them from snatching the locals? What's special about Minnesotans that spur aliens to come all this way to examine them? I have so many more questions but I think you get the gist of it. Truth in advertising.

  On our way we stopped off for dinner at the local BBQ joint and were pleasantly surprised to eat some of the best BBQ we've ever had. In Minnesota. I mean, who goes to Minnesota for BBQ? Texas, the Carolinas, Memphis, Chicago? All good. Minnesota. Not so much. Of course, we just did the same thing back in May when we had to stop in Delphos, OH because there's a great Mexican restaurant there. In Ohio. Stop laughing.

  During dinner we discovered it was Trivia Night so we hung around to see if we could whip the locals. We were killing it until the Final Jeopardy question (no, the answer wasn't Light Urple) when we had to identify which U.S. governor had written, "Do The Right Thing". Well, I thought that was a Spike Lee movie and I know he wasn't a governor. Penny suggested Arnold Schwarzenegger was the author and it sounded right to me. Being go big or go home types we went for it... and lost everything.

  Apparently it was written by Mike Huckabee who was governor or Arkansas a while back and who's daughter was Donald Trump's Press Secretary and is currently governor of her dad's state. It doesn't sound like he did the right thing there, if you know what I mean. We did score a gift card for the restaurant because we finished third... out of three. We'll be back, next time we're in the neighbourhood.

  Yesterday was spent with cleaning, laundry and packing so we could hit the road first thing today. It sounds like the homeowners are very happy with our work so that'll be another 5-star review to add to our housesitting resume. With that out of the way, off we went to Milwaukee to see an afternoon game at American Family Field (formerly Miller Park, which is a much better name).

  The Brewers' ballpark was a bit of an eyesore from the outside and it's situated in a suburb far away from everything... except an industrial park and some trees. Heading out to a local watering hole after the game is out of the question. From the inside, the sightlines were good and there was a decent amount of visual interest.

  Food was uninteresting and the lower concourse is enclosed and separated from the field by the private boxes. Although the spaces were a decent size there wasn't much worth sampling, unless you want a brat, and we'd had enough of that after two weeks in Minnesota. One thing that was worth hanging around for was the Sausage Race, an iconic event staged during every Brewers' game since 1993:

  And that brings us to this evening, sitting in this little slice of Indiana contemplating our return home tomorrow.

  I'll start by saying, as I've said before, three and a half months was too long. Not because we didn't enjoy the traveling, the places we stayed and the pets we cared for but it's too long to be away from family and friends. In future we're thinking two months away is a much more management timeframe.

  Having said that, a long excursion like this allowed us to really immerse ourselves in this new, to us, lifestyle. I'm taking a chance in speaking for Penny but I'd have to say it was a success. I mean, we just spent the last 109 days, 12 hours and 17 minutes joined at the hip and didn't kill each other. Sure, there were disagreements. Large disagreements. Did I mention there were disagreements?

  We saw large parts of the U.S. and Western Canada we hadn't been able to examine in depth during our previous travels. The difference between the typical A to B vacation trip and what we've done is significant. We've lived in these places rather than just visited. Yes, we saw the sights and did the things but we also bought groceries, took out the garbage, rode the transit systems and generally lived everyday lives. We saw the things you usually don't see because we didn't have a list of things we had to do, or a time limit within which we had to do them.

  We walked dogs, a lot, and made friends with them. Twice we left dogs that missed us after we left. We didn't meet a lot of people but we did get to know the homeowners a bit and, for the most part, we'd happily sit for them again. We did take care of cats too but, as everyone knows, cats don't care about you. Just put the food down, clean the litter box and let them in and out when they whine. Cats.

  We met up with people we know along the way, which was great. It's a joy to see familiar faces during a long trip. Video chats don't cut it, as we all found out during Covid. The conversations are stilted and rushed. Time differences make for awkward timing. Small cameras and screens make for crowded viewing. It's not ideal, but it's better than nothing.

  Tomorrow, we get to hug our kids and grandchildren for the first time since May 29. We'll see our grandchildren have grown and learned new things. Our kids have managed without us for the longest stretch in their lives. It's gratifying to know they're self-sufficient yet depressing to know they don't need us like they once did. This getting older sucks.

  Something I learned about myself is I'm like a shark; I'm happiest when I'm moving. And I eat just about anything. This bit of wisdom below sums it up for me:

  This adventure is drawing to a close but another begins in a month. I may not post any new episodes while we're home but I promise to get back to work when we hit the road again. Watch this space.

The Great Northfield Minnesota Raid

   Those of you who know movie history will recognize the title of this episode to also be the title of a little-seen 1972 movie starring Cliff Robertson and Robert Duvall:

I've mentioned our looking forward to the Defeat of Jesse James Days in Northfield, MN, so now it's time for a short history lesson.

  On September 7, 1876, the James/Younger gang rode into Northfield intent on robbing the First National Bank. They'd been on a crime spree across the Midwest for quite a while and had been robbing banks and encountering little resistance. They expected Northfield to offer more easy pickings and rolled into town calm and confident.

  Unfortunately for them, alert townsfolk noticed them and quickly suspected they were up to no good. While three of the eight gang members were inside terrorizing the bank staff the locals were preparing to confront the rest of the gang outside, gathering rifles, shotguns and pistols. Determined not to accede to the outlaws' demands to open the safe, the bank's cashier, Joseph Lee Heywood, was killed for his courageous stand. Meanwhile, out in the street, the townspeople had begun shooting at the other gang members who were taking casualties. The robbers quickly exited the bank, joined their comrades and got out of town quickly, leading to a massive manhunt.

  This was a singular event in the town's history and, for the past 75 years, they have been celebrating it and Joseph Lee Heywood's courageous sacrifice. That brings me to this weekend's festivities, The Defeat of Jesse James Days.

  We started with Friday evening's re-enactment of the events:

  From there, we headed over for some delicious eats at the food trucks that were surprisingly not outrageously overpriced. Even though we were in landlocked Minnesota Penny was able to snare what may be the best crab cake either of us has ever tasted. I, on the other hand, had been jonesing for a corn dog since we were at Crescent Beach in Surrey. I was not disappointed here as it was also a remarkable taste treat. After dinner it was on to the rodeo, where we enjoyed all the traditional western horsey things like Bronco Busting:

Calf Roping...

Steer Wrestling...

Barrel Racing...

and Bull Riding...

By far, the weirdest thing we witnessed was something called Mutton Bustin' where parents enter their little kids in an event that expects them to ride sheep:

Strange but true. Welcome to Minnesota, although this may be a midwestern thing. More research may be required.

  The whole rodeo thing was very entertaining but the start of it was a bit unsettling. The emcee asked the crowd to stand while a woman rode a horse around the corral holding an American flag. Expected. A recorded rendition of the Star-Spangled Banner. Check. That was when things went over the top. The emcee proceeded to have a personal conversation with Jesus, asking Him to ensure the safety of US troops abroad, guarantee the freedom of the country and its way of life and generally affirm that the country and its people were The Chosen Ones.

  Penny and I looked at each other as this went on for a full five minutes, wondering if we were to be set upon as intruders, not of the body. If you want a cinematic example of what happened check out the rodeo scene in Borat Subsequent Moviefilm. It wasn't staged. Just being there provided some insight as to Donald Trump's unbelievable popularity in the Midwest.

  This is a populace that is insular and overtly Christian extremist. We haven't seen a person of colour or a non-Christian house of worship anywhere, except in Minneapolis, since we left Canada. LGBTQ+? Forget about it. I wasn't intending to turn this into a liberal rant but the homogeneity of the residents offers some explanation as to regional attitudes, unsettling to someone who comes from a multicultural society. Anyway, seriousness over.

  Saturday we took in the local car club event and were treated to a couple of hundred examples of 1950s and 1960s Detroit Iron. Foreign cars? Three. I won't belabour the point. Of course, during our excursions back and forth to Northfield we were able to snap some pics of outsized animal life, like this true to life example of what happens if you don't hire the exterminator that lives here:

Army ants for sure but, American army ants? Note the one on the ladder. So patriotic. Oh, and who can resist a cow on a stick:

And I think I'll leave it there for now.

  We've been here for almost two weeks and it's been all the things we hoped it would be. The house has been comfortable and the cats have been a breeze, if you ignore Radar's squeaking at 5 am and Bongo mutely ignoring us. The homeowners maintain a small garden plot that has allowed us to enjoy fried tomatoes on toast repeatedly. For those of you not familiar with this dish I can provide the recipe. Try it. You'll like it!

  WIldlife? Every night brings the deer out of the forest to forage. Mornings are when the wild turkeys strut across the backyard, including a brood of chicks. There's my nightly conversation with Rocky, the raccoon who comes out to chew the acorns under the oak in the front yard. Hummingbirds and dragonflies you've already heard about. To paraphrase Ray Kinsella from my favourite movie, it's not heaven, it's Minnesota.

  We're entering our final few days here, after which we'll make our way home after our summer-long journey of discovery. We can't wait to see everyone and we freely admit this trip has been too long by about a month. But, oh, what memories! I think I've got one more installment to write, but it will wait until we're on our way.

Labour Day Weekend

   The Labour Day weekend has passed so it's time to catch up. It was hot here, by Minnesota standards, in the mid-30s. Rather than work up a sweat we laid low for the most part. Our weekend started with a United Nations dinner. Since neither of us felt like cooking I headed to the grocery store to put together a dinner of snacks:

• Italian cheese and olives
• Polish pickles
• Japanese sushi
• Chinese BBQ pork buns
• American crackers
• Mexican guacamole and chips
• Moscow mules from a variety pack of pre-mixed cocktails

  A balanced meal for sure. Protein, vegetables, grains, fruit... and alcohol which is also a vegetable. A vegetable? Well, if you're playing Twenty Questions which category does alcohol fit into? It's not animal or mineral. I rest my case. Dinner was great, by the way.

  Saturday started badly. First, September 2 is the beginning of duck hunting season in Minnesota. Since we're surrounded by lakes the hunters were out in full force at sunrise, blasting away with their Remingtons at flocks of unsuspecting fowl. If cats aren't waking us up it's rednecks with shotguns!. That was followed by the news Jimmy Buffett had passed away. I've been listening to him sing of the stuff of my dreams since 1977. It was like losing an old friend and it put a damper on my entire day, which was topped by watching the Blue Jays lose an eminently winnable game against one of the worst teams in baseball. Saturday. Blech.

  Sunday dawned more brightly as I was awakened by a particular cat that will go unnamed at 5:00 am, proven by this picture taken from the front porch:

  We spent a large part of the day enjoying the A/C (did I mention it was hot this weekend?) and snacking on the remnants of the U.N. Dinner. Once things started to cool off we headed out to the cool tub (I turned off the heater in the last episode, remember?) with margaritas in hand to toast the late Mr. Buffett. Well, they were actually mojitos. I'm saving the margaritas until last.

  Labour Day was earmarked for a trip to Minneapolis. We're only an hour away so figured a holiday was a good time to head downtown and check out some Atlas Obscura stuff. We hit up Spotify for some Buffett tunes and headed to the Sculpture Garden as that's where large, weird things are located and, well, we love large, weird things, like this:

... and me with a giant cock.

Made ya' look 😂😂😂. And this...

  You've likely seen it in Philadelphia, New York and other locations. Apparently Robert Indiana made a bunch of them and this is just one. Not the one.

  From there we decided to head to the Nicollet Mall downtown. Before we go further it's important we have a common frame of reference. When someone uses the term "mall" to describe a city street to me I conjure images of people walking on a closed street with shops, outdoor cafes, street performers, etc. Yes? No.

  The Nicollet Mall is designed that way, ie, closed street, lots of walking space, etc. but there's nothing there to see or do. There are many homeless people, if that turns your crank. There's the Mary Tyler Moore statue:

  It depicts an iconic scene from a classic 1970s TV show but, having stood on that very spot, I have no idea what about this place made her so happy. Maybe it was knowing she could go back to Hollywood after filming it, I don't know.

  You see, the secret thing about this mall is, it's indoors. Wait. What? If you look up you'll see the famous (sort of) skyways that link all the surrounding buildings above ground. There are no storefronts, restaurants, etc. at ground level, only the stone faces of office buildings and hotels. There's lots of stuff inside all these buildings at the mezzanine level but, because it was a holiday (did I mention no one was there?) they're closed. Bummer.

  So much for hanging out for a couple of hours with umbrella drinks at the sidewalk eateries watching street performers. We did get to see a disturbed young woman wearing a onesie with the trap door open screaming about how she didn't want kids, so there's that. We also managed to find the Bob Dylan mural, depicting the Minnesotan as he evolved through his career:

  I also spied this building which might be able to help with Penny's aversion to Miracle Whip:

  With that experience behind us we wondered how else could we blow some time here in the Big City? Why, the Mall of America, of course. To be fair, there are lots of lakes, parks, hiking trails, bike paths, etc. around Minneapolis but hiking under a hot sun on a humid 35 degree afternoon wasn't appealing. So we headed to the air-conditioned mall.

  Before I go further I feel it's important you, dear reader, get a feeling for driving in downtown Minneapolis. You see, the city streets are laid out in a bit of a random fashion, part grid and part jumble. In the 1950s and 1960s, when the government was building the Interstate Highway System they bulldozed large swaths of cities to pave them over and it appears Minneapolis's design didn't jive well with this method. It seemed every time Google instructed us to turn at an intersection it was immediately followed by an urgent command to cross four lanes of traffic to turn left at the next intersection fifty yards down the road. Fortunately it was a holiday as I can't imagine dealing with that during a busy rush hour. Oh wait. We're going to a Twins game next Monday. In rush hour. Can't wait. Anyway, the mall:

  I fear the picture doesn't do it justice. It's big. How big? It's the biggest mall in the U.S. and second to the West Edmonton Mall in North America. It's four stories of retail space with a hotel on one end and an office tower on the other and a two acre amusement park in the middle.

  The entire third floor is devoted to food courts and restaurants. It's big. It's so big that we aborted our tour through it because we were worried we'd get lost, roaming its miles of hallways deep into the prairie night.

  We did get lunch there, stopping at a Shake Shack. If you think that's a familiar name, you're likely remembering the scene from Grease with John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John at the amusement park. That's where they got the name. Now you feel educated, don't you? While sitting at a table in the food court I noticed this:

  I'm in favour of recycling but the idea of people sliding on this table wearing bowling shoes previously worn by hundreds, maybe thousands or others put me off a bit.

  With our big city experience behind us we sped back to our rural hidey hole for some peace and quiet. The Blue Jays won. We drank Palomas. The hunters ran out of ammo. All was right with the world. The heat wave is expected to break after today so cooler weather will get us out hiking and back on a golf course before next weekend's Jesse James festivities. If you didn't check it out after reading the last episode I'm not going to explain. And, "the dog ate my homework" won't cut it either. You'll have to stay after school and bang erasers together. I mean it. Later.

If You Build It He Will Come

   Ok, I stole the title. I admit it. For those of you who haven't seen a movie in the past thirty-five years it's a famous quote from Field of Dreams, which is my all-time favourite. What's that got to do with our stay here in beautiful Montgomery, MN? Well, have a look at this picture of the house we're living in and substitute corn for the long grass:

  Right? I'm thinking of asking the owners if I can build a baseball diamond in their yard to see if Shoeless Joe makes an appearance.

  We've explored the property, which is bordered by a WMA (Wildlife Management Area) on three sides and extends to a small lake:

  You'll notice the area has been mowed. The owner has a tractor with a mower attachment as well as a ride-on mower and makes good use of them, clearing paths through the grass and around the forested areas so you can walk without fear of picking up ticks. Wasn't that a game when we were kids, Pick Up Ticks? I digress. I'm a bit disappointed that I don't get to cut the grass as driving a tractor sounds like fun. In case you haven't gotten the picture (sorry), here's a view from beside the house:

  As well as two cats, we are responsible for a small colony of hummingbirds which, along with a billion dragonflies, supply us with our evening's entertainment:

  It's all pretty cool although the cats are a bit of a pain, as cats can be. They are outside cats... mostly. They spend the morning and evening outside and sleep inside during the afternoon. One, Bongo, is partly deaf so needs to be in at night as she can't hear well enough to detect threats. The other, Radar (yes another one, see "Welcome to Prescott Valley"), insists she wants to stay out all night but climbs up on the porch roof to meow at the bedroom window around midnight, so you have to let her in. Then she comes to the inside of the same window at 5:00 am to meow to be let out. Cats. Sigh.

  Anyway, they have warmed up to us enough that Radar will jump on the bed at 5:00 am to wake us up to let her out. How nice. Bongo has also warmed up to us. She even let Penny touch her yesterday. I'm sure that, by the time we leave, she won't hate us anymore. Here's a couple of Radar pics as we'll never get any of Bongo:

  The homeowners are both very interesting and accomplished people with whom we share a lot of interests. It's funny that I'm saying this as we haven't actually met them. We arrived a few hours after they left and we'll be leaving a few hours before they return. Our conversations to date have all been by email and I expect we'll establish a more normal relationship with them in the future as, like most of the people we've met on this trip, I'm sure they'll invite us back.

  Aside from the house we've managed to do a bit of exploring. We went into Northfield a couple of days ago to get tickets for the upcoming Defeat of Jesse James Days event next week. I won't spoil it for you. You'll have to wait for details.

  We also wandered around Montgomery. I say "wandered around" but there's not much "there" there. Most of the streets have been torn up for re-paving and there's only one short street in the "business district". We did note the main drag has five bars and only one restaurant so it sounds like the residents aren't too thrilled about living here. There is, however, one thing the locals are proud of, according to this mural:

  Kolacky. It's the Kolacky Capital, actually. We saw one bakery and they specialize in these things, whatever they are. Ok, I Googled it:

    (kəˈlɑːtʃkɪ , kəʊ- ) nounWord forms: plural kolackies or kolacky. a type of sweet pastry or bun with a fruit, jam, or nut filling, originally from Poland or Czechoslovakia. chocolate cherry kolackies. Whether you fill them with fruit or cheese, kolacky are very popular cookies.

... so you don't have to. You're welcome. By the way, locals describe it as "a little bun with some fruit stuff in it". No one can accuse these people of verbosity. Typical Minnesotans (see "Fargo" for more detail on this, movie lovers). If the bakery is ever open, as most of these businesses seem to be closed whenever we go by, we'll pick some up and let you know if they're worthy of a mural.

  Across the street, next to the pizzeria (the only restaurant) was this guy:

  He's Big Honza Giganticzech. Really. Apparently, one of the locals was tired of Minnesota being the home of Paul Bunyan and who really thinks a ninety-four foot tall man with a blue ox is believable anyway? Instead, he commissioned a chainsaw sculpture of this guy, a character he made up. He's supposed to be representative of the Czech immigrants (remember kolackies?) who settled this area, except his creator decided he needed to be twelve feet tall, able to chop down a tree with one hand and skin a mule with his teeth. Oh. And he likely makes wonderful kolackies.

  So, let's review. Montgomery is kolackies and a big wooden Czech who's not Paul Bunyan. We're done here.

  Oh. Montgomery has one other noteworthy attraction, its golf course. Now, I feel like the owner had delusions of grandeur when he named it Montgomery National Golf Course, a la Augusta National, home of The Masters. I'd say it's not quite in that league, more akin to your local pasture track than something claiming to be "national" in character. It does, however, have something that makes it unusual -- The Beatles. Wait. Yes, you read that correctly. I know The Beatles weren't known as big golfers but the owner is a fan so they're all over this place.

  From the entrance:

... to the signature, eighteenth hole with a new log clubhouse under construction and its own Yellow Submarine:

   This is an unusual spot well worth a few hours recreation. All the holes are named after Beatles songs and, according to the guy in the pro shop, the first hole was recently renamed. Apparently one of the regulars collapsed on the first tee so one of his buddies called 911. A passing off-duty EMT showed up and resuscitated him, then arranged for a helicopter airlift. He survived and the hole was renamed "With A Little Help From My Friends". Cute. Also, they correctly named the ninth hole, "Number 9". Check the White Album if you're not up on the Fab Four.

  The next few days promises to be hot with temps in the mid to high-30s so we're thinking of turning off the hot tub heater, buying some of those pre-mixed margaritas and hanging out in the little backyard pool while we watch the hummingbirds. I'd read that Minnesotans are a hardy bunch so we're doing our best to fit in. Cheers!