Microblog

Fall colors were starting to come in as we cycled the lovely Red Cedar Trail, starting in Menominee, Wisconsin.

Woke up to an unusually pink sky, presaging much-needed rain. Living in an apartment, we’re more aware of the sky and less aware of trees than when we lived in a house.

Roasted Brussels sprouts, deconstructed eggplant parmigiana.

On my cycle ride, foraged for local products that might be low on the nutrition scale, but essential nonetheless: Bauhaus beer (brewed in Minneapolis), Peace Coffee (roasted in Minneapolis), and Izzy’s ice cream (milk from Wisconsin cows).

Just noticed that, in my absence yesterday, my water bottle had been repurposed for plant propagation. Occasionally, with permission, Dwight comes home from his volunteer job at a greenhouse with cuttings that would otherwise be composted.

Flew to Chicago, walked, flew home. My “find” was the Thompson Center in the Loop, a postmodern building, with a huge atrium, a teardown candidate. Later, at the Chicago Architecture Center saw inspiring winning entries for a competition to transform and

“Discovered” the docket app today: it displays all my immunization records logged by the Minnesota Department of Health, back through decades, whether I went to a clinic, a mass-immunization event, or a pharmacy. I’m impressed.

Cycled downtown to pick up meds. Before cycling back, looked up at the Foshay Tower (1929) framed by buildings of the IDS Center (1972). The Foshay was the tallest building in Minneapolis at 447 ft (607 ft including the antenna mast) until the IDS Tower (792 ft) was built.

Took delivery of a wheeled, recycled plastic industrial pallet for our indoor garden. Dwight will come up with a system of risers so the plants can be at different heights. I’ll be concealing lights, irrigation tubes, wiring, and electronics inside the pallet.

Spent the afternoon soldering sockets onto cables for moisture sensors for our indoor garden.

Kept cycling. In Minnesota “No Trespassing” signs must have “either the signature or the name and telephone number of the landowner, lessee or manager.

A worker congratulated me on my braking when I screeched to a halt, inches short of newly poured, molten asphalt. There were no warning cones, but I tend to swerve around them, anyway, if the coast looks clear.

Posted Backpacking in Japan with Our Nephews: Flights.

Picked up samples for a carpet runner in our hallway. They didn’t resonate: to me they seemed rather blah. Decided one option was to do nothing and leave the floor bare. So often, with stuff or with life, nothing is better than anything.

Cycled west, out of the city, then along the Luce Line Trail for several miles before turning back.

Dwight assures me it was mint green. He’s probably correct.