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Glanced out the window toward Gold Medal Park. Cyclists, out for a group ride, were relaxing in the fading afternoon sun atop the mound with the spiral path. I smile when I think of my nephews running up that hill, then rolling down the spiral path on their scooters, again and again. They were so young then. Now, at 16 and 17, they’d rather drive their cars.

The Dyson was making random unfamiliar sounds, so today I partially disassembled it and gave it a clean. A YouTube video advised me to clean a fine-mesh filter with an air blaster outside. I decided this was good advice as I stood upwind while releasing a toxic cloud of fine dust. While I was at it I also cleaned the canister vacuum.

While Dwight baked these almond biscotti, I stretched out on the couch with a novel I’d checked out from the library on my Kindle, Sir Kazuo Ishiguro’s The Buried Giant. The Remains of the Day is still my favorite, but none of his novels has disappointed. Early samples of the biscotti didn’t disappoint either.

After school, I enjoyed a delicious, runny fried egg sandwich for lunch at Mill City Museum. In the winter, this lobby of the former 1890s flour mill hosts our local farmers market. Next door, hundreds of school kids poured out of the Guthrie Theater after a special performance of A Christmas Carol. I asked a teacher about it. “It was awesome, awesome!” she exclaimed, her arms raised in a celebratory gesture.

Wandered through the Toaster Innovation Hub and the School of Architecture at the University of Minnesota with a friend. At the Toaster, makerspace, conference rooms, and focused students filled the space. A whiteboard invited workshop ideas.

During my walk through the North Loop/Warehouse District, I discovered a new mural hidden in an alleyway. It depicts a general strike in Minneapolis in 1934. The phrase “One day in July” is a reminder of the violent clash between armed law enforcement and unarmed strikers. According to the Teamsters Union, this strike marked a significant turning point for both the union and the entire labor movement.

Took a long way home after resupplying at Seward Co-op. My bike route led me through the Milwaukee Road Historic District where a new interpretive sign has appeared. It reminds us that it is possible to stand up to the Federal Government and emerge victorious. This neighborhood is a testament to such efforts.

Made a 24-hour chicken bone broth which I filtered four ways this morning. Now it’s setting up in the fridge, waiting for me to skim off the fat. I’ll freeze it in smaller portions to use in dishes where I want the flavor and smoothness to shine. On Friday, I picked up chicken parts from an Asian market; of course, I couldn’t resist grabbing some Japanese KitKats while I was there.

Picked up ingredients for a braise, including one each of these gnarly beauties: a rutabaga and a celeriac.

Near the end of my bike ride, I passed by Gold Medal Park where school kids on a field trip to the Mill City Museum were letting off steam during their lunch break.

As I walked toward the Center for Adult Learning on Lake Street, a sign thanked us for voting in favor of a property tax levy that will raise $20 million annually for technology in Minneapolis Public Schools. On Tuesday, we had voted to approve the levy and elect school board members. Inside the building we maintained a safe space where no one discussed the election.

This morning, the downtown view from our home is completely obscured by mist, but it will eventually clear, of course. Knowing our rights are vulnerable, we got married four years ago today, a right that was won over the objections of many in our country. We don’t count this as our anniversary, our story spans 37 years. We met in a time when people like me were routinely turned away at the border.

At Open Book, a building dedicated to all things book-related, The Minnesota Center for Book Arts had set up an antique letterpress machine. How could I resist pulling the lever? I’d ducked in from the rain for a coffee and donut at FRGMT Cafe. Today, the building is also serving as our polling place, though I’d already voted by mail.

A random walk through Downtown, guided by traffic light signals, led me to Philip Johnson’s 1972 IDS Center, a testament to its enduring design. However, Johnson’s past as an ardent Nazi supporter in the 1930s casts a long shadow. He publicly admired “Mein Kampf,” attended the invasion of Poland, and described it as a “stirring spectacle.” While he renounced these views in the 1940s, his earlier actions forever tarnish his legacy.

Movie night tonight! The blockbuster anime “The Boy and the Heron” is finally available for rent at a reasonable price. Today, I’ve been skimming the 1937 Japanese coming-of-age novel “How Do You Live?” (in translation, of course), which apparently provides some of the philosophical underpinnings of the movie but not the plot. Interestingly, the novel also makes an appearance within the film itself. The author’s backstory is a lesson for our times as we slide towards authoritarianism.

Went on a journey from despair to celebration with the Minnesota Orchestra. The opening piece was based on W. B. Yates’ dark poem, Nine Hundred and Nineteen, reflecting the turmoil of Ireland in 1919. The concert concluded with Prokofiev’s Fifth Symphony composed in 1944 Russia with notes of celebration in the final movement. Time will tell if there are parallels with the upcoming days in the USA.