Microblog

There were no takers for pre-show drinks outside, where it was a sweltering 90-plus degrees, but inside Orchestra Hall, the AC was doing a grand job. Following medical scans this afternoon, with more lined up for Monday, a glass of wine and an escape into the world of Britten, Beethoven, and Schumann were most welcome.

Walked home from the U through smoke after consenting to a Phase 1 clinical trial. If tests over the next week continue to qualify me, I’ll receive a “Tri-Specific Killer Engager” (!) immunotherapy agent that may harness my immune system to kill tumor cells. I’ve been on Phase 2 and 3 trials; this one is more experimental, but I’m hopeful it will kick the can further down the road.

Mapped circuit breakers to outlets, appliances, and lights on a floor plan, then added a QR code to the breaker box linking to it. There are a few orphan outlets left to figure out, but adding them to the digital plan later means I won’t need to update the physical QR code.

On my steamy cycle ride, I noticed a newcomer to South Minneapolis: the Debre Selam Medhanealem Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church. While I work with Muslim Somali adult learners who lived in refugee camps in Ethiopia, I don’t recall ever meeting Ethiopian Christians. Because they first arrived in the Twin Cities in the 1960s, they are generally more established and dispersed than the Somali community, which first arrived in the 1990s.

Cycled home from Stillwater. At Duluth Junction, a nod to the rail trails we were riding, we stopped for a water break. There, we had a nice chat with our photographer: a woman who lives in a seniors’ building and was out for her daily 15-miler.

Cycled to Stillwater, off-road trails all the way, taking about four hours. It was scorching hot, but the trails were often shaded, and we cooled off at lunch in a dark dive bar. We’re spending the night in Stillwater, then heading home tomorrow. Here, we’re taking an after-dinner stroll, about to cross the St. Croix River, looking toward Wisconsin.

A bag of rice arrived today, grown in Niigata, Japan. Because Japan exports very little of its crop, I had to specially order it. In a traditional multi-course meal, plain rice is served just before dessert to be enjoyed entirely on its own. Adding soy sauce is considered rude. Having failed to replicate that perfect glossy texture and subtle flavor at home, I’m finally going to try cooking the real thing.

I’ve never seen so many homegrown protest signs as I have this past year. I spotted this one on the way to Seward Co-op to pick up veggies for dinner. Displays like this really help keep hope alive. Some historians tie the Humpty Dumpty rhyme to the fall of King Richard III at the Battle of Bosworth Field in 1485. We eagerly anticipate a great fall for our own wannabe king.

Came home to a tripped breaker cutting power to several lights and outlets, including the balcony. Workers had just applied a base finish to our balcony concrete that morning. The project manager was cooperative, and we agreed to wait until the finish dried. Armed with a multimeter and screwdriver I tried to isolate the problem, but no luck. Eventually, the problem resolved itself. Power washing must have penetrated the outdoor outlet, causing enough ground leakage to trip the modern AFCI breaker.

After a routine eye checkup, I walked over to the memorial at the site where a federal agent murdered Alex Pretti, a VA ICU nurse, six months ago. There were so many flowers and sad and defiant messages. The words of Anne Frank described Operation Metro Surge as if she had been in Minneapolis in January.

Cycled downriver to Minnehaha Park for lunch. Sea Salt Eatery has a cooked-to-order menu that is quite sophisticated for a park concession. We got the usual: fish tacos, delivered to our table, washed down with a local draft IPA.

Dropped our primary ballots off at the Minneapolis early voting office. The election judges were in a great mood, and one insisted on taking my photo. I thanked them for running a system we can all trust. 

Dwight headed down to the weight room, which gave me an opportunity to cook up a surprise for dinner. For one week only, it’s Sausage Sunday (as opposed to Sausage Saturday). No surprises there: it’s a variation on a sausage and cabbage theme. Here it is, reflecting in a slow oven for about 2½ hours, hopefully undergoing a magical transformation.

Filled out primary ballots for U.S. Senator, U.S. Representative, Governor, and all the way down to school board members. In doing so, we asserted our right to choose a government that “shall seem most likely to effect [our] Safety and Happiness,” as declared in the Declaration of Independence. I’ll hand-carry these ballots to a drop-off point, especially since the Federal Government is threatening to block mail-in ballot delivery in states that don’t accede to their demands.

Cycled around looking at preparations for July 4. Our celebrations are very local, so there’s none of the partisanship of DC. Here, several blocks of downtown are being fenced off for A Taste of Minnesota, essentially a food truck corral with a bit of entertainment. The number of garbage bins impressed me. Meanwhile, down at Stone Arch Bridge, preparations were underway for celebratory events culminating in fireworks.

The loud squeak when I apply my front brake is a feature; I’m loath to fix what is probably just a minor misalignment. Today the trail to the fish shop was blocked due to light rail maintenance, forcing me to choose between a busy road and the sidewalk. I chose the sidewalk. The moment I applied the front brake, people practically leapt out of the way. Cycling on the sidewalk is legal in Minneapolis areas zoned residential, but, um… I was definitely in a commercial zone.