Ok, so I pulled a weed or two (out of the entire colony of millions that have taken residence around our house and that we've ignored until they reached gigantor proportions) and now I'm quite proud. Right now, Chester is painting the hallway (of which he learned to do from Karate Kid, he says) and telling me about how if I had gone to the Pride Parade like he did this morning (he was in it, figure that one out) I would have had plenty to blog about. Apparently Al Franken made an appearance, as did some candy.
My brother and his lovely girlfriend were in town this weekend, so we (Chester, me and little brother Casey) took them on a Minneapolis adventure before we headed to the 'burbs for a ValleyFair extravaganza. I put on my decidedly uncool purple Nikes and we trekked (on foot, like hobbits) to and hopped on the light rail to the mysterious Cedar/Riverside stop. We walked again to the Triple Rock Social Club for their legendary breakfast (incidentally, this was not our first trip with David to the Triple Rock--we'd already seen the Real McKenzies' lead singer's sub-kilt, sans-undies buttocks there). People-watching was most excellent (I have not yet stumbled across another place where I can sip coffee and admire mohawks, von Dutch neck tattoos and quite fancy handlebar moustaches).
We also checked out some stores (Savers and Target, wow) on Lake/Hiawatha. I unwisely contemplated purchasing a coat tree and lugging it on the light rail and walking it the 8 blocks from the light rail home. We found Casey some fabulous 80s garb for a party he was going to later that night and I found some t-shirts that will help encourage my attractive farmer's tan (as well as some books to encourage my attractive brain).
I have pinned back my bangs so that I and my prominent (but lovely) forehead can once again wage war on the renegade weeds. Over and out.