Of staying outdoors and running alongside fall fauna, or drifting downstream.

— One of the more notable motorcycle runs of the many that continue to be held this fall was well underway on early Saturday afternoon, Sept. 14. , the Dennis Bursch’s third annual Boob-a-luscious rally to benefit the New Richmond Cancer Center. Although the run started and was slated to end at the Star Prairie Sports Bar, it saw many riders cruising the highways running along the St. Croix River in groups of two to five, for the most part forsaking the bars along the way to be outdoors and enjoy the moderate fall temperatures, early-on sunny skies and autumn scenery that is just starting to unfold. By contrast, a full-size party bus parked alongside Woody’s in Bayport to take part in another kind of mostly indoor enjoyment, which was much different than that chosen by the cyclists. Their party as rains came in would eventually move indoors, too, and continue on until early Sunday morning at the Star Prairie bar.

— Speaking of Woody’s, a call needs to go out for people to buy up what of late appears to be an endangered species, the derby duck. Two or three days had gone by since last Wednesday without any being snapped up by patrons, said a bartender in a offhand manner that seemed to indicate this was a calamity (just kidding). So please help save the rubber duckies from extinction. Next Saturday, Sept. 21, all those who had been bought will be floated down a small stream that runs under culverts and past yards through several blocks of a residential neighborhood in back of Woody’s. The quickest quacker wins. For details, or to forego that last drink and use the money to save a duck, stop by the bar.

Share the Post:

Related Posts

My mom has told me not to be a potty mouth when I write, as she certainly would not appreciate hardly any of the standup humor on say, Comedy Central Radio. SNL maybe. But after 11:30 p.m. … But there comes a time where a man must make a stand. And for this jokester, it was now when he had to choose whether to pass on the opportunity that would otherwise bite him in the butt, for in front of and behind him is the Mother Lode. Or should I say load. Or “Mothers” of Invention. Heh heh, heh heh, Butthead, look...
So the wall is down. Of letters, that is. Not down by Mexico. Cemented into the concrete. Of the Kennedy Center. Where music has sat. (Near where a now defunct wrestling arena rusts in peace. Or a bloodied White House lawn. With leftover paper cups and plates, more likely bowls and small utensils, anyone?) Or more ornate than inside? A tarp the size of Pennsylvania, the predominant battle state, covers workers as they chip. So geez, how big are the letters? Four times 50 living workers high? But now none remain, or so we are told by flunkies. Or is...
A few years back, I wrote an article about Hudson Deacon Tom Kroll and how he did so many extra dutiful tasks, his living out the Gospels tirelessly, when his wife was ill, in addition to his regular job. I was inspired at the time to pen this, about my own lovely, disabled wife — we were separated briefly but now back together with our 40th anniversary this month, as wholehearted caregiving has many strains — and how an atypical view of standard roles, out of necessity, made things work, as far as our approach to work and home that’s...
What do fishing, maybe in the dark, thus a Texas ranch, snakes of various types and do they come or stay out after dusk, eating either and only fine food or snacks, and a game of cards — likely just one each — have in common. And no strippers or Chippendales. And an only half or quarter, not full Monty. (Who is Monty anyway?) Or cowboy or cowgirl hats. Although there was some dress-up. More Barbie than boots on, I think. It’s an easy answer, connected and conflicting, but not in all or dirty ways, bachelor and bachelorette parties. One of each...
It was clear to me at the most recent Jeff Loven music show in Hudson, for Memorial Day weekend, that there has been a changing of the guard. The sword has been passed. New blood, like Yungblud, has been brought in. And, I must say, loyalty — amongst the devotees who travel frequently and all across the two-state area to virtually all of Jeff’s shows — has been rewarded. They are the royalty, in what just makes good business sense that I can appreciate. In a significant but not unprecedented altering of course, I was not one of those asked...
Trial by fire. My broiling heart in my efficiency flat still beats a bit, in concern over those boiling over in worse apartments in a Chicago tenancy, or on an ocean island instantly-burn-your-feet beach or dessert, or forced to endure ice baths just to keep cool — or simply be offered no way to maintain an ice-dripping body other than also read a non-cookbook at the library, or select not a big steak you can’t afford but a 73/27 burger from a freezer and slap it on your forehead. Just not too hard. All these things are ones where you especially today either burn or...
Scroll to Top