Microblog

Rode shared bikes six times. They’re great for running errands around town.

Taught a citizenship class for former refugees.

Continued searching for former fire stations. We couldn’t find Station 29, but, found a currently operating Station 15. Discovered this building was originally Station 29, but it closed in 1944. Station 15 then relocated to the building. The number change is evident in the photo.

Walked my bicycle beside a single rail track that became a double track that became a quadruple track. Stopped trespassing before I would be in a large, active rail yard.

Washed our tires as we cycled alongside the channel between Lake of the Isles and Bde Maka Ska.

Bacon brats from the farmers market for dinner. Ice cream from Izzy’s later. Local splurge-eats.

Paid the $1 Senior fare, hung up my bike, cooled off.

Cooled off at an ice cream shop I’d never noticed before in the Longfellow neighborhood of Minneapolis.

Felt included.

Cycled with a friend looking for former fire stations. This unusual beauty was built in 1923 in the American Craftsman bungalow style. Former Fire Station Number 13 is now an architects’ office. One of the partners gave us a tour of the sensitively repurposed building.

Posted Living a Guarded Life.

During a refreshment stop from cycling, Dwight responded to what could be the last on-call-week page of his career.

Walked my bicycle down a dirt road behind the derelict Harris Machinery Company building at the edge of the University of Minnesota’s East Bank campus. I love this crumbling edifice, but until today thought it was beyond redemption.

I’m cooking basic baby back ribs this afternoon: rub with fresh garlic and a dry rub, then cook low and slow (225°F). The simple dry rub varies, but I usually include paprika, salt, brown sugar, and black pepper. A dish of water on the lower rack increases the humidity.

On my way to pick up meds at Walgreens, dismounted at the Central Library for Taiko drumming. A guy used a calligraphy brush to interpret the piece, “Impermanent Wind.” The drumming and my meds speak to my own impermanence, and that’s OK. Mono no aware.

Posted Antequera: the Case for B-List Travel.