Microblog

Staying in Avalon on Santa Catalina Island, 30 miles from Long Beach by ferry. Avalon is the southernmost town in Los Angeles County, and a mythical island in the legend of King Arthur.

Got on board a westbound 747 (actually an A320-200)/ Didn’t think before deciding what to do/ …/ Seems it never rains in southern California/ Seems I’ve often heard that kind of talk before/ It never rains in California/ But girl, don’t they warn ya?/ It pours, man, it pours.

Last appointment of the day: haircut by Emily. I’ve known her 30 years and look forward to our conversations. Earlier, managed to sandwich GED tutoring between a radioactive tracer injection and a whole-body bone scan. All those activities were on today’s walk: I choose to live as normally as possible.

There’s 9½ miles of skyways in Minneapolis. My goal today was to find a section I’ve never walked before. This section, running through Thrivent Financial’s headquarters, was new to me. Until 2013 Thrivent only served Lutherans; today they serve a broader market.

Started collecting stuff for a trip to LA. The TAP transit cards have sufficient value on them for all our Metro rides. The extension cords will be useful in an old hotel on Catalina Island. The remaining items reflect the new normal: we choose to mask-up on flights and transit.

Walked with a friend on an icy trail we’ve cycled many times. Stopped for lunch at Malcolm Yards, a grown-up, cooked-from-scratch food court. The developers stabilized a ruined structure, and built a complementary industrial-style space within the facade.

Crossed an icy Mississippi on my walk to the University of Minnesota where I signed paperwork to participate in a Phase 3 prostate cancer clinical trial. Grateful for the lovely walk, grateful for promising treatment options.

Afternoon chamber music concert at Orchestra Hall. The first half was European (that’s OK) and the second half grabbed my attention with pieces by two American women: edgy contemporary by Du Yun, (born in China), and more traditional by African American, Florence Price.

Cleaned the oven. OK, it’s self-cleaning, but it still required technical knowledge: I had to turn two knobs.

Posted Twitter Migration.

While Dwight drove his mom to her home up in Fargo, I planned my quick trip to another distant place, at least in my head. Ramen at the counter of our local izakaya before the Guthrie crowd, then home to a mythical Japan, an anime movie from Studio Ghibli.

Today’s Twelfth Night, so followed tradition and took down Christmas decorations.

Falling snow continued to soften the dinosaur skeleton in the kids’ playground downstairs. Abandoned all thoughts of a walk, rode an exercise bike.

Snow was falling, about an inch an hour, as I walked.

Broke my no-coffee-after-midday rule. It was just too tempting at Dunn Brothers Coffee in a former Milwaukee Road Freight House. Now energized, walked home as snow started to fall, the edge of what promises to become a major snowstorm.

Enjoyed a slice of my mother-in-law’s excellent fruitcake. I grew up in the UK where most people seem to love fruitcake, not so much here in the USA. The BBC Website instructs cooks to feed the cake with alcohol every two weeks until Christmas. That might explain the difference.