Microblog

Filed my taxes, I’m owed a Federal refund: it’s time to make an all-expense-spared impulse purchase.

Went to a party in a house with about 30 pinball machines in the basement.

Posted Living in a Time of Shortages.

Viewed depictions of “The Tale of Genji,” the world’s first novel, at the Minneapolis Institute of Art. It was written by a woman, Murasaki Shikibu, over 1,000 years ago in Kyoto, Japan. Themes stand the test of time, including love, lust, and the disempowerment of women.

100 years ago, Scandinavian immigrants studied next to this fireplace in the basement of a Carnegie library. Today, Somali refugees study English, math, citizenship, and GED next to this same fireplace in a library basement. My Wednesday gig.

My old suitcase headed for the exit. It now belongs to a friend and her daughter. They make felt mittens they’ll display in the open suitcase at shows. I posted recently about this vulcanized fiber case needing a new home.

I ate the brownie in half the time it took to drink the cappuccino.

With 40+ miles per hour winds, and blowing snow, it was a perfect day to organize our nest, hang pictures, and enjoy this amaryllis. The plant was regifted to us by a friend, concerned it is poisonous to her cats. We were happy to give it a home.

“Disappeared” an electrical outlet. There’s an outlet behind the pillar, but the developer had added an outlet to the middle of this wall. Today I removed it and Dwight painted a cover plate. (Minneapolis building codes don’t allow drywall over a live electrical box.) Now, the wall, the plate, and the Guthrie Theater all match.

Walked to Orchestra Hall to listen to the Minnesota Orchestra. Downtown merged with reflections of the lobby.

On my sunny walk: the Weisman Art Museum, designed by Frank Gehry.

Walked in heavy snow to my Wednesday gig. Snowdrifts were surprisingly deep under this overpass.

Posted A Crosswalk in Nagano.

Walked over to the Cedar for a sold-out performance by Beninese singer, Angélique Kidjo. “We’re all Africans.” We sometimes play her music when doing household chores: she gets you moving.

Took a bus to the northern edge of Minneapolis. Walked back.

Unpacked our last boxes. Reunited with my favorite radio, ever. It originally belonged to my paternal grandmother. When she died in 1959, it became my bedside radio. I would lie in the dark listening to comedies and dramas from the BBC Home Service.