Boy the 23rd and beyond (and even a bit before) hit home like none other, be it birthdays (many times over plural), various kinds of fall and food fests that included the Phipps, and then the Wild back (and the Badger) again, and more.
And I was so overwhelmed that I sat out much of it. In a way this matters: I had to “rest” up for yet another birthday, come the 29th, to round out those in the “rest” of the family, of my father.
It was about 6 O’Clock on a Saturday (the most recent) and I suddenly became very tired, as the overall nature of this weekend across the region hit me. May have had something to do with the Wild — did I first say the word World — opening up the next day and the rush followed by an anti-rush that accompanies it. Or on a related note the fact that it was so many years ago on this Saturday at PD Pappy’s that my eyes were first opened, forever, and how was it that it was not before? But more on that at a (much) future post. There is, and continues to be so much that is again new, going on.
— But the band names at Bacon Bash boggled the mind. And only started with Feed The Dog, which could be showin’ how to shoot a combo of Hair of the Dog and Hunger Strike. But likewise, the band Mojo Lemon sounded like (1) their great choice for a Happy Hour fruity drink and (2) the second coming of this combo, Mojo Nixon and John Lennon. They even add Kevin Lombardo to like-sounding five-letter five-star-or-so acts. But bacon, as it does not spoil easily, will be seen in dishes Everlast. Keep that in mind further food fanatics for another foray-day far beyond just the fest. Scroll down to the next headlined post. And see the whole slate, in Picks of the Week, and beyond. —
But Saturday night’s sleep was not sound, although in degrees deep. So I hit the couch. At length, the daylight neared. And it was about now that The Good People Of The City were returning from the various forms of New Richmond fall fest, and there were occasional small, clunky sounds, from the Kidz in the Hallz. They and their parent or parents do not go out much, but like so much of this area, when they let loose …
Come actual daylight, the bumps and dweebles ebbed.
But since there is enforced (to various degrees by municipality) a semi-sonic closing time of 2:30, where did all those people go? I’d bet around the region. Because there was Bacon Bash and more music in River Falls, and thence between there and here and its German fare, the Oktoberfest as celebrated with house brew(s)in Hudson. Where there is Perkins/Denny’s that are, by turns, open 24 hours, to pack in more pounds with things like their great cheese and yes, bacon fries, for just a few bucks. And that time you can also hit the cafe in downtown New Richmond, as a return, and if nothing else grab one of my Signs on the Wall, also known as a bulletin board. And if that was not running the circuit enough, you could have started the night before and hit the various high school and one small college football games — I recall a former neighbor talking to another early in the pandemic and noting he had not seen the Friday Night Lights yet, at around this time of year back in that day — and hoped for the blessing of flip-flop starting times and possible overtime.
And before all of this there was the triumphant (the Hudson paper and its only one true and geek-out reporter proclaimed it so!) return, for the first time, of Yam Haus to the Phipps Center Fest also held just before fall began.
And then there was the birthday thingee, that dominating the 23rd itself, getting back to that.
My mom gave birth to my one blood brother on that day, just over a month after she had done so with/to me.
What a way to celebrate your 57th! So it was told. To him. As a joke. Over the phone. If going into labor in bookmarks to Labor Day can be funny. So don’t tell it to him in person.
To wit to Tom: It all started in a hospital for both of them.
A quite hot day, the origin of this joke was, but not too many hours later it became very cold, as fall came in with wrath.
Like this year.
And back at the Wild Badger, The Question: do I look good for 40? As slippery a slope as provided by lots of body lotion, but no I can safely say that you do not, and I will not be drawn into the thorny discourse of nuance, as that battle and that’s what it is, can be won, but it usually goes very bad.
But thusly, she was wearing a sash that called attention to that very number. So there could be a (partial?) ruse and the clarification behind it, that she could be 30, but that would mess things up with one digit of her sign. So meet halfway and write on your sash 35? Just take great care not to be dyslexic.
So how do you say yes, you look 32 and want to defend that judgment, as such a thing is needed? Is it safe, or is it still creepy, to issue a complement such as this, as of course a marker for looking youthful. You have stately shoulders, or arms, (but don’t say luscious as that might going too far. And don’t directly say you love their look, as why does your opinion matter?) So be more general, and suggest it is viewed that way by most in the general public.
Just beforehand was a 30th B-Day revelry. So I will only tease that now, and come back to that story later. Maybe next year? Same time.