State Fair

It got off to an auspicious start -- I was too late on the draw at the ATM and the machine sucked my card back in, thus (I found out later) destroying it, then our GPS device died the second we got on the highway. Thankfully, we were able to put our collective memories together and successfully find our way to that most essential of midwestern summer events -- the State Fair.

We entered at the west entrance of the grounds, which turned out to be a good thing, as that's where the livestock barns were, so we were able to get "seeing the animals" out of the way right off the bat. First stop was the Miracle of Birth Center, which featured pregnant farm animals of every shape and size. If you hit it just right, you get to see the miracle of birth. If you don't hit it just right, they have the miracle of a continuous video loop, showing you what you missed.

We didn't hit it just right, but the crowd notwithstanding, the girls seemed to like it:

While they also liked the other livestock barns, the Swine Building was far and away the biggest hit:

We spent the rest of the morning navigating the sea of humanity, with both girls staying completely in character and not wanting to do anything that was too loud, too shiny, or had too many other people nearby -- which included every ride on the Kidway. Even the Butterfly Garden, a seemingly safe bet for both of them, got Ellie freaked out.

Eventually, we found our way to the KidFarm, which replicates the farm experience -- tend to the livestock, gather the crops, take them to market, get paid, spend the money in the store:

That being a big hit with both of them, we had resigned ourselves to calling it a day when, from out of nowhere, Ellie broke from the script. We were sitting on the curb, outside one of the food buildings near the base of the gondola ride, and she says, "I wanna do that." So up Kim and Ellie go:

And first thing Ellie says when she gets off is, "I wanna go on the big slide." So . . .

Then of course, she wants to do it again. But by that time, we'd spent just about every cent we brought with us, primarily on food -- which was the only thing they wanted to do up until then. Lesson learned for next year.

And even though food was consumed throughout the morning (including the hands-down best french fries I've ever had), I've saved it for last because it's here that the fair experience truly offers something different. The Tilt-A-Whirl's the Tilt-A-Whirl, god bless it, but you can always count on the food vendors to go above and beyond to create something the make the fair experience memorable. (Note that I didn't say "pleasant" or "nutritious" or "non-vomit inducing." Just "memorable.")

In reality, we didn't stray too much from the old standbys -- popcorn, lemonade, Pronto Pups (simply a corn dog), etc. -- although Kim went for it and had a deep-fried Snickers Bar on a sick.

Here's a short list of things we could've eaten but didn't -- I'll leave it to you to guess why:

• Deep-fried cheese curds
• Elk burgers
• Pickle Dog (quarter dill pickle, coated with cream cheese and wrapped in pastrami)
• Walleye on a stick
• Pork chop on a stick
• Cajun seasoned alligator sausage on a stick
• Scotch egg (hard-boiled egg wrapped in breakfast sausage) on a stick
• Spaghetti and meatballs on a stick
• Corned beef and cabbage on a stick
• Teriyaki ostrich on a stick

The record shows, I took the blows...and walked the Skyways

I had to spend a few days working downtown Minneapolis this week and came across what would likely be called one of the city's defining features (aside from the Mary Tyler Moore statue, which I also saw).

The Minneapolis Skyway System connects virtually every downtown block via a series of covered walkways, accessible from each building's second or third floor. Take a look at this map and you'll see just how far you can navigate the entire downtown without ever stepping foot outside -- you can go from the 4th Street Garage all the way to the Convention Center (near 12th Street), albeit not in a straight line.

We walked from the hotel where we were working to a restaurant a few blocks over, and it was basically one long, never ending shopping experience -- restaurants (both fine and casual), banks, newsstands, clothing stores, nail and hair salons, you name it. It's like some forward thinking civic planner way back when convinced every building owner to gut every second floor in the downtown area to build (with apologies to the Mall of America) the world's biggest mall.

It's not hard to see the benefit here -- while we have yet to experience our first Minnesota winter, I can only imagine what it must be like having to walk the downtown streets to get to and from work every day. The fact that each walkway has a different design is also very cool.

I couldn't help but wonder about the potential downside, though. What is the effect on the businesses at the street level? How does it affect the foot traffic that is so essential to a vibrant downtown?

Think about what Boston might be like if you could get from, say, the State Street T Stop to the Theater District by walking through the second floors of every building in Washington Square, with every potential need available without ever going down to the street. Great in the winter, sure, but wouldn't something be missing?

Well, it likely wouldn't work in Boston anyway. Minneapolis' grid layout makes an endeavor like this relatively easy to pull off -- Boston's cow path layout would make it a nightmare.

Hitting the wall

It happens eventually. You can go only so long commenting about the relative trivialities of living in a new place before the new and interesting becomes the day-to-day, and suddenly there's not much left to talk (or, in this case, write) about. It's a big reason that these posts have trailed of in the past few weeks.

And it's started to creep into the phone conversations we have with our families:
"What's going on there?"
"Not a damn thing -- same old same old. What about you -- what's new there?"
"Nothing really . . ."

Just today, I had complete conversations with Carl and Arline that went pretty much according to this script. Then just before I hung up, Arline got on the phone and said, "Oh, tell Kim that I've stopped smoking." (Three weeks so far, she says, so way to go Arline.)

I told Kim that this would happen at some point -- eventually, the major topic of conversation on the phone will be the weather. Then, at Christmas, we'll come home and hear something like, "Well, remember a few months ago when your father fell out the window . . . ?" and we'll say, "WHOA! You never told me that!" Meanwhile, the little relatives will have grown into young adults, talking and dressing in ways we couldn't have imagined, and we'll be astonished at all that we've missed just being away from the day-to-day.

Unfortunately, it's unavoidable. And it just may be the toughest part of being away from home.

By the way, it's raining here. How is it there?

Breaking in the new: Severe Weather Siren

This is a new one for everyone. I became very accustomed to the sudden onset of severe summer weather in Indiana -- watches and warnings were extremely common, for severe thunderstorms, hail storms, and even the odd tornado here and there. But the means of finding out about these situations was always on TV, as when a blizzard hits Boston and every channel has news and weather people in little tiny windows, while the rest of the screen is taken up with maps and crawl graphics.

We'd heard the town siren before, but always in the middle of the day. This time, it went off a little after 3:30 this morning, freaking Kim out and sending to both of us into the kitchen to see what was up. (She's got a thing about tornadoes, as would most normal people, I suppose.) Lo and behold, we were in the middle of the most severe rain we've had since we got here.

This was major stuff -- wind bending trees, rain almost horizontal to the ground, rapid-fire lightning that made it seem much more like a fireworks display. Chikage Windler (formerly of Channel 7), sans makeup and in a deserted studio, showed a Dopplar radar map that was almost exclusively red and covered in little lightning bolts.

Truth be told, we need this rain badly -- the only positive thing about the incredibly dry summer we've had here is that the low levels of the Mississippi River aided in helping the search for victims of the bridge collapse. The siren, however, will take some getting used to.

We're OK

Thanks to everyone who's been checking in via phone, email, and by way of family and friends.

The 35W bridge is about 10 highway miles from our house, and we use it only when we venture into the city.

But with 6000+ people working at my workplace campus, the company is bracing for at least 1 or 2 'close-to-home" instances.

Family birthday wishes, poolside

Thank you Hap

Hap's present arrived last week and the girls put it to use on Saturday. It didn't take long for the boys next door to start loitering on the fringes of our yard, and fortunately the girls are good sharers.