Looking down at the low-to-the-ground powertakeoff on a seemingly out-of-place tractor, parked just down the way from Ziggy’s music club, as I walked down the street. Could this be the Farm Aid concert all over again?
Trailing behind it was a trailer that could have housed a pony such as a Shetland but not a full horse, as not even this occurrence with its need that I will show you below has such horsepower. But it was adorned with logos of dozens of sponsors, but for what cause.
The potent plague that is Parkinson’s. As it is seen not necessarily from here to eternity, but from here to a far coast, as there are victims everywhere, more and moreso.
To summarize. The tractor was being taken on a trek from a start in the lower Midwest, to the upper Midwest, then all the way westward across several states.

– And what, there’s even more such need afoot? You know a benefit is for a worthy cause when it gets the Dweebs to play for a full four hours. Springsteen style length. Even more than the local tribute band for The Boss.
Larry Larson is battling stage 4 brain cancer that Mayo was not able to fix, although he’s been back and forth after an initial surgery, and there will be a fundraising event to help him live out his days as best he can, on May 25 at Big Guys BBQ Roadhouse, just up the road from here. As there will still be a long road for Larry and even moreso his family.
The longtime legendary show band that like many has only gotten better and rockier with time plays from 7-11 p.m. And if you think you are worthy to be an opening act — and hey I am not worthy so will not grace you with my presence, unfortunately, only bow down to others who are killer — there is karaoke from 5-7 p.m. And plenty of BBQ dishes, five by my count, during and after. Raffles too.
These days it seems to be a truism, does it not, that as times get tougher for just about everyone, more and more the financial brunt for families hit with a sudden need comes down to such benefits, and we’re not talking just a brunch. You can see the writing on the wall by looking at the changing pace on just about any bulletin board, at places like nightclubs and what have you. And we have come to need them all.

And so many of the backstories just tug all the way back at your heartstrings. And one seems to top the previous one, as more announcements are crammed into the limited room on the spongy, squared spaces. Larson, for example, recently retired and also then married the love of his life, Erin. And now they face this. Relatedly, news of the first benefit of doubtlessly many for slain deputy Kaitie Leising, she only 29, has just trickled past this desktop.

In all cases, about these losses that speak for themselves, enuf said. –

Bringing back in the tractor, it isn’t that big in size, but it packs a big punch. Medically. Emotionally. Physically. Actually, both of these things do.

This bright green tractor is no partially broken-down old Farmall H. It would have to trek on until Washington, D.C. or the state on the other end of the country? (Help out in a corn field along the way?)

Hey, the Parkinson’s it strives to battle can be a real pain. (Imagine if you are a farmer?) People are only now realizing just how painful.
So says Ozzy and so many other rock stars who now have it, at an advanced age. There must be some common theme in their genetics.
But someone has to drive those things like tractors cross-country. Like over-the-road truckers. (What other kind is there?) So pay them more than a historical farmer’s wage.
The hiring wars have come and gone and evolved, and the way they were fought changing as conditions changed, although how much may be a matter of degree. But right now, hirings are on again.
At Brick’s Pizza, they need a dishwasher. Since they have their completely own take on pizza pie, this is a position requiring special skill, (or would that be the chef and/or cook). Other places have the help wanted sign placed for a whole host of other job descriptions. Some of these ads are shown on legs and on placards, some quite small, out on the sidewalk, or taking up a meager part of a glass door. But they are big enough to list in full phrases all kinds of work that needs doing. Shown in type with 72 point letters?

And concerning nearby San Pedro Cafe, they are looking quite descriptively for “passionate” line cooks who make from scratch and who are looking to hone their culinary skills. Call or email or stop in.
These days you might carry out such applications via one of those annoying (unless you are looking for work) small square boxes with black and white squiggles, and even designing such boxes might get you six figures, I would think. I first noticed the newest big but small thing a few months ago on the side of a cab.
Or you could just go the old school way, with two words melded into one to display “arbysjobs,” complete with quirky consonant use mid-word. Reminds me of the “handle,” again an old school term, of one of my favorite music commentators, kirawasareactor. Can she get a handle on Handel? Or that former and now embattled politico hopeful in the Twin Cities, by the fitting name of Warsame.
And lastly, now that we are long gone with the hirings that creeped up near the $19 an hour range when there was a change in prez administrations, WalMart now has partially reverted, and for main and non-overnight shifts where they compensate you, I think, for not being able to take in live bands, to a mere rate of $15!
Here is another matter to wrestle with. Live wrestling back in Hudson, and not out at the old JR! Its downtown baby.
And for you techno phobes like me, this is in-person, not on pay per view. The guy at the counter confirmed that for me, and then glanced over and downward and nodded to the flyer of announcement, also seen all over town. I was angling my glance also, as to anecdote that mere PPV was indeed not on the card.
It was Thursday night in the Hop N Barrel parking lot, and the bout, or series of them, was on. Customers filled the expansive concrete and blacktopped floor and were evenly spaced out across it, including food trucks and the like. The ring itself, which I saw being erected earlier in the day as roadies were actually measuring with tape and such, the overall height of the ropes, was pushed back into a far corner — beyond the great big and high UHaul truck that had them housed and strung them.
So had one thought. There was not far to fall if you were thrown from north and east side, as there literally was brick wall there. On the west and south side, there was a farther fall and — again — a cement floor to smack.

What makes a song timeless? Give me some water, if I’m rocker Eddie Money, because I just shot a man on the Mexican border. Or might as well have.

If you’re Ozzy, that may be a shot in the dark.
There are refugees, (so many are children and we’ll walk you through that later), or could be called foreigners in some contexts, not only trying to cross over at Mexico, but Canada. And in all parts unknown surrounding the Ukraine. And all over Africa and its various enclave boundaries. And more. The context can even be framed by the old Statue of Liberty now crumbling with its stone-shown justice. Bring me — or at least have us tolerate — your tired, your hungry, your poor, your naked in need of clothing at least between photo shoots, your huddling masses waiting in desert areas for a possibly last cup or chalice of water and once getting past the more immediate need to be hydrated then resume their quest to be free, your most disenfranchised, your voting-rights robbed, your cell-phone-taken-back yet again as others come about by the parent company or corporation, etc. And the Title-shown need whether you call it 42, as today, or 142 or 242, is not going away.
What to make of it? Let’s go back 1,000 years, or make it 2,000 years. Or least when it thus was written and so should be done.
So OK, what did Jesus Christ have to say about — stereotypically — having over for dinner and maybe staying for breakfast the impoverished and reeking of dirt and more Mexican farmer with no teeth to eat with anyway? Be a good Christian family and live that scenario out.
Anyway, back to what Jesus said. (He was a man of complexity and you would not like him when he is righteously angry. And some things riled him more than others).
Leading the list was not to do to those little ones — of all ethnicities: And for he, or she, who would harm one of those children it would be better if a millstone were placed around their neck and they be cast into the sea. At least their boat got that far. And as has been written before on these pages, war always affects children worst. And the crux of this rant: Jesus was almost that irked when any of God’s people, especially the powerful and those with means it could be argued, hardened their heart and did not help out the foreigner in need, or being discriminated against.
OK, these days the situation with our and their borders — both sides of them — it has been wisely said by many different people the situation is messy and layered and complicated, and there are more than ten fingers to be pointed at possible culprits. To address such a situation it becomes all the more important to have words to live by, whether coming from the lips of Jesus, or Mohammad, or Buddah, or Ghandi, (OK maybe we’ll take a pass on Crowley). And not all such sages need to be religious figures, but I’ll take them over politicians. (There could be a referendum on paying more heed to the band of Baldwin brothers. But in my home state, Tammy Baldwin might have more merit, and common men and women. And from the mouths of babes).
Now my main thrust. Maybe we should Listen more to the Likes at Large of Ozzy Osbourne and Geezer Butler, and their Ironman hero-villain. There is an Easter egg here to be found in this ultimate messianic anthem, of a slain savior who rises from the dead then returns to earth to finish his work.
Biblical themes run through it, and one of them stands out as being maybe a tale of these times. I do believe that early in the song, there is a reference to the parable of the good Samaritan: “Is he live or dead, has he thoughts within his head. We’ll just pass him there, why should we even care.” This stanza seems to be linking the critically injured man in the ditch, to the lack of aid given to a messiah who is put to death. Two remaining important events in our history. OUR history, whether we be religious or not, downtrodden and downgraded Samaritan or high-falutin pharisee.
Underscoring as far as justice is a just-seen a Metallica in-concert video played out in Moscow in 1991. What were rank-and-file Russians subjected to around that time by their government, at the very least lacking freedom?
The song was Creeping Death, the deliverer, and we’ll let the first line tell the tale: “Slaves, Hebrews born to serve …” THEY were then the foreigners. There are so many parallels here, only starting with faulty pharisees and pharaohs. The crowd was getting riled up, more by each chorus, hundreds of thousands of them, some of them standing under U.S. flags, and the words were not even as aggressive and brutal as the guitar, in-your-face demanding justice (for Hebrews and Huns alike) and nothing less, screaming for vengeance. The chant grew much more bold by the syllable, “die, die, by my hand, die, die first-born man …”
As I watched this crazy scene just as if there, one thought kept creeping into my mind, as there was so much that could be gained by these ideals but ironically, there was one suddenly underclass that (also) was excluded from this parade … the lines of military police standing with hands at their sides and trying to stay stoic with their gaze. What about them? What if this mosh pit turned into a mob? These men, invariably very young, sometimes were caught in the middle of warlike politics, so was their service completely conscentual, or contentious conscription?
These policemen had to have been scared to death! What if the fans would all gather in their whipped frenzy and march on THEIR capitol. No dozen tanks could have stopped the surge.
The power of music. Especially potent metal.

These patios are killin’ it. Now live. But where does Megan Fox as a killer superhero reside? Temporarily and (mystically and mythically?) mixed and absent from The Agave.

“Brother will kill brother.” Tables will be stacked on tables, intertwining. And chairs across the land. Or at least the patios. “Something I don’t understand.”
Why, blood brothers and even twisted sisters, do these favorite spots of our watering holes ever have to close, although I concede the cold.
But in addition, has an era closed with the downgrading of that big Fox superhero with “S” photo, perched as my girl for well over a decade on the wings of the wound stairs of what had been the Twisted Grille? No, the tender Derek told me, it was just one of many memorabilia posters shelved for a while after a renovation that with cherry picker closed three or four parking spaces below for three or four weeks. Soon to rise as a captivating canine again, when there is space made on the walls among the many dozens of others. Someone tried to gain this image of goth, maybe, by theft and then bring it back. The server’s friend was also obsessed with the poster, so the wing man purchased another one as a gift. Collectively, there were scratches on paint and cracks on frame like those popping sounds being referenced in a music video as we speak, back in the day of vinyl not far back of when Megan reigned as a Transformer.
Though so enlightened, we take in at The Agave the White Room now there. That had black curtains — with a partial absence of chromos that also can be compelling, but remained within view (i.e. decorating dartboards and the walls they’re pushed up against) — and more tints. Its in the Bullpen. That upstairs cantina at the Agave Kitchen is now much brighter in look and tone and maybe tune, this new ivory tinge is way past Cream colored. But fellow bartender Allison said the color is so cool, except when you’re getting too chill with the lack of shadows, (as a buffer?), before accepting last call and heading into the night.
But to further de-digress, this and other patio-type places are now fully frontal functioning, but all the way to the back also, where they may be housing a dartboard or three. All but a few tiny tarps have been taken off the seating. Flowers are in bloom, and their garden boxes no longer topped by spurts of inch-high snow so you can view dirt, and even a few trees show color beyond buds in places. The most noteworthy such treatment is a wall of greenery that separates the south patio of Hop N Barrel and the north one of of Ziggy’s. These venues are among those getting it going first in 2023.
But as far as that, you can’t beat the new Bennett’s and its patio inside a patio — or better said, enclosed by four high walls going way up. Those walls of gold …
Make your tap tremendously tasty? A parked SUV-size van adds that they’ll clean up the beer both before and after you. Didn’t you think those glasses of brew came from somewhere, pouring forth after running through feet of plastic tubes and trying to avoid any forgotten filthiness. So there you have it, unfiltered.
Other patios are not ground level, which means some are enclosed, or at least partially. Not everyone knows, deep inside Mallory’s and down, not up to the very high rooftop reached with multiple sets of twin-stairs, there is a rather small Speakeasy with its fireplace in place, small bar in back and one fairly large room, dimly lit like the old way of the Agave. A commentator said that he was schooled by his son, who had worked there for months and knew well of what he spoke, having logged time up above but knew little of the Speakeasy. And I have only now noticed from a northern view, back windows could be seen surrounding a couch, and how the south end of their wall had plenty of lights on curved wires, and almost as many platforms that could be used as stop-offs, and one edged by a fire extinguishers and the like.
A likewise look at Champ’s in New Richmond makes it seem like a champ, with all the grooves and turns of boxlike machinery like turbines you can see — very like Pier 500 at its top — from ground level. But the Pier is the pinnacle of the nearby pier. With its broad umbrellas and its stones that form a long and high wall, the pieces so much bigger than you otherwise see. You can even spy the speckles from the street.
As far as the new seasonal completeness of its multi-faceted look with various amenities that include more than one set of stone, its Dick’s Bar. For sheer size, and the number of umbrellas if only down below, its the two-level Smilin Moose. For the urban-ish streetscape of an attractive three-story brick-based wall, to nod goes to San Pedro flowing into Pedro del Este.

Here follows yet another requisite, relentlessly rambling, retro-ish Cinco de Mayo, and then Rodgers redo.

Wholly holstered as an NFL Aaron in TD mode QB metaphor.
What, none of the Modelo that a (non-native Wisconsin?) man ordered? No problemo?
Only Corona to give. Not Coors. Could he get? That’s a different field.
There was, per signage still shown at Dick’s Bar come later on that Sunday night, its max of a weekly Mex entree. Minus Tex? Riding next to me? But only on Thursday.
Cinco was on a Friday. So if you got there in time for the cook on Thursday eve … There was still 2.5 hours after midnight — hey this is a weekend you dummy so you got until 2:30 — not two minutes before. But by that time, all you could get was a frozen pizza, and that’s only if its unusually slow as it has been at times, as the kitchen has closed for the night.
But did he not speak the language, as it seemed and was said by the server, in true Yoda speak?
This solitary Mexican man had sipped, walked around back to the darts area, sipped then walked around again, then quitely quietly left. But the two bills tip was cool.
This branched off into a discussion of the AI, used for both letters and language, that the server said will kill off all writing such as this. (More of that breakdown in a later post).
So yet another one bites the dust, this time at our end of the state. Thus again, all here and there really look like Rodgers, with his deftly trimmed and tinted and Aaron’s-not-going Amish, State Farm and not-a-long-string beard. Who kinda, to back up here, looks like Jesus. Or Queen? Various members.
An all-in appeal?
Pitino was, it turns out. As another in a string, he’d accepted a college coaching gig at St. John’s University, introduced by a good father with a collar and telling the padre he was all-in with what the institution offered. I guess that will include every Sunday Mass.
But to a bit more recent draft and its asterisks. Such as the one alluding to “secondary compensation.” And the next time referenced, stretched out to a full seven words of description. Seventh inning stretch? For a futbal-to-celebrate-Cinco owner who it was read “would be out for a few weeks.” Do we even have to give that bit of info for the team’s owner too? Even if its of the St. Paul United Team that’s ranked as the 41st-highest-valued soccer squad in the world?
And to care for and nurture such fields? They are bigger in soccer. Even if its the money of US Bank and its proprietary field with their tallies … $48 million over the next year and $280 million over the next decade, Strib-stated. Too many concerts tearing up the grass? Or not enough to raise the dough for more grass seed and more? Need reunion tours?
Or even enough to just buy fluffy muffs for everyone’s ears, before their buds are aflower? That’s what was worn at Hudson Tap when there still was somewhat of cold, by a couple of women shooting pool, along with fingerless gloves. And more to the point, showing lots of bare midriff.
Fickle flaunted fluff?
But now such looks are everywhere. As at NFL in NY training camp gunslinger sightings, on the groupie-ish green-grass sidelines? Therefore, reference another almost omnipresent sports guru, productive traveling talker Scott Van Pelt as he may again hit the pop-up stadiums in virtually every state.
Then we spin off to other recent styles, still with weather permitting, but curiously only after Winter started ebbing. Set the stage with the Agave sign on May Day: Last chance for April specials.
The women at the mid-town corner qualified. They trended by wearing comfie boots that were sturdy and stout and also flashy, and one praised the other’s newfound functionality while she stepped over the street-curb on Main.
That was south of the Mason Jar shop, where it was mentioned, one woman to another, “there is no beer anymore.” Was there ever that kind of frothy stuff put into their jars?
Alas, to take this piece full-circle, but before Cinco, a salsa queen as her red sash proclaimed, sashayed this way in the very early afternoon. With killer also-brown boots-flats, but these had what looked like dozens of laces dripping down. Boot to the head for the functional.

First there was Favre and now this.
The ghost of Curly Lambeau is rolling over in his grave. He never would have forsaken The Pack.
At least Aaron Rodgers did not go Purple, so on goes their plight to purge at that position.
But now past his career’s apex, the Big Apple awaits. And the former Green Bay QB is going to take as much of a bite out of it as he can. And he has been at large. Before officially donning the green of the Jets and the green it will bring his bank account. He has said he’ll be at half — a majority? — of the New York practices, at least for football, come training camp. Take that to mean a mere 51 percent. Half-staff as other adventures beckon. (Ask actress Alba, who was not fully known by a compadre while at courtside. A cornerback not the quarterback).

– The mind boggles with this latest sandwich eight-item-entry into the warm-weather market. See it in Picks of the Week.

And we are more in sync with Cinco de Mayo, sort of, even though as the Mexican population in the U.S. keeps increasing — and a buddy of mine and I just had a silly discussion on the new and milder-skinned minority — rank-and-file American foodies and drinkers more and more are steering away from this independence holiday.
But this is what you need to know if you do celebrate, then worry about the siesta later since it is a Saturday that follows. When even the most standard Mex-made-out-to-be drinks usually go for more than just $3, you can get that real good stuff on special on Cinco for that price at the Wild Badger in New Richmond, in an atmosphere that is more club than just standard pub.
But no definitive word on the local presence of mole poblana, the actually definitive max-out Mex, based on the history of the Battle of Pueblo, where Mexicans gained their freedom from a country that gets dissed again, that being France, (but not from American borders).
Turns out, forego tacos and margaritas, actually Mexicans on this holiday mash in ingredients such as sweet bread, a walnut-based cream sauce, pomegranite seeds, a chocolate blend with chilis, and even something I’d not heard of called papalo herbs.
And that mole poblano, it is baked with corn leaves and banana husks, (oops, I got those two greens transposed). –

As this is His indeed Coming Out Party, like we have never seen, and an Aaron party it has been. Taking The City That Never Sleeps to another level. Taking in more than one sporting event a night? And if overtime is needed, so much the better. There will still be a last call after that last period. But there would be no (early eliminated) Bucks, although he (now) has the bucks to splurge for an Adrian Peterson-style get-together with a hundred or two of his closest friends. And even in downtown Hudson, the relatively frequent sightings of Rodgers lookalikes has picked up, although some have a grayer (in takes) and longer beard if taking in, what, a ZZ Top tribute band in town? And that guy over at Hudson Tap was also in this vein, throwing out a John Wick take on it.
Back at the start of all this lengthy rearrangement, and you could say it goes back as far as grunge, (just kidding), there was the signing of a first key wideout as part of the messiah series, so you’ve got The Jets Lazard in what could be compared to The Jesus Lizard. The bard references an old alt band.
Of course that was only the start of such signings, of all considered Rodgers friendly. Linemen too. Backs of all kinds, half and full but no quarter, playing all kinds of positions. And a new QB coach? A full one-quarter of the players in the NFL were considered to be brought in, (again just kidding), as when you are in football as long as Rodgers you entail an elaborate entourage. So many having played with Rodgers and could be part of a Super Bowl run, which was not thought a possibility a few weeks, or months, ago. About the only one still holding out is The Waterboy as in Adam Sandler (just kidding a third time).
After the third day, the groundhog saw his black shadow. Oh wait, that was the much more cerebral signal-caller coming out of His First Darkness Retreat, (and give him kudos for coming out with that action in a largely non-thinking society). And Jets flew overhead. Being piloted by Rodgers himself? But no, as even Aaron cannot fly more than one at once. But he had reached a state of enlightenment after being in close consultation with … himself. Now Jet City Man. Just watch out for (hibernating) Bears in that cave. As we waited for his decision for what seemed a whole (post)season.
But methinks during his retreat, Rodgers could not have read the Jets playbook to see if playing into his future was long passes, not easy screens, because after all … he was in darkness.
Just contemplate the meaning of life. And rich football players in it. Talk about living in a cave.
But back in Titletown, the replacement QB in Love got a contract extension, show him some love as Jordan, but not as Rivers, as in Philip.
But the extension is only for one year — and the Green Bay brass has said they won’t expect Jordan Love and his style of play to be another Aaron — so maybe they think Rodgers might indeed play a Favre and come back?
However, recently, the Jets have declined their option with some players at other positions, but not as vital, although indeed bulky.
But for now, as in last night, Randall Cobb comes clinging back, too.
What goes around comes around, like a hook and go.

The people at Table 65 Bistro, nearly smack dab in the heart of New Richmond, want you to know that in addition to hundreds of menu choices, they’ve found it best to offer breakfast beyond the basics too.
This not your typical coffee klatch. Although it’s served in a cozy and relaxed atmosphere, like you would expect, all in their venue that still has lots of room to sit, tucked away just off the main drag.
Thus the most important meal of the day, and served up as so, does not necessarily mean the ones occurring later in the day, although they have those too.
So this is the backbeat to the Bistro. It also caters to the night owls taking in the nightlife several blocks to the south who also become early-risers. (Because they have so many entrees in their bistro menu, in sheer numbers they utilize way more than the second and fourth beats of a backbeat. You also get everything between. Thus I’m drumming up this way to double your dining pleasure, by not missing a beet, as they have them sliced too.) And it’s not far from the New Richmond music and other entertainment zone. So if you’re from, say, the Twin Cities, and lodging overnight, you might want come for the music and stay for breakfast. Or eggs over easy for any other reason. Or lunch and brunch or dinner?
So treat your taste buds to a better breakfast, with lots of savory ingredients that go well beyond, and more of them in total on a single entree. For example, come dinner, you can even have portabella mushrooms with sliced beets, and all the rest of the fixins, as shown abundantly in the all-in omelet.
For those who just want to have a short-order pick-me-up for breakfast, maybe after getting up following a music-filled previous night, or just to complement their other dishes, there are sides available for between $1.75 and $4. And maybe they pair well alongside the maple compote for just $5, so you get to partake in a warmed apple, with raisin, craisin, walnut and all-out pure maple syrup.
Also, the breakfast panini wrap adds more bacon to the Italian sausage, mushroom, egg, spicy aioli and provolone cheese; the avocado BLT for breakfast gives bacon, as in Utecht’s brand, lettuce, over-easy egg, tomato and garlic aioli; Bourbon Street morning wrap boasts in addition andouille sausage, creole sauce and queso; another wrap also piles on ham, Swiss cheese, spinach to accompany balsamic glaze with tomato. The incorporation of sourdough, steak (on two different sides) and onion also is offered.

– There are also a bevy of beverages, both nonalcoholic and also non-virgin, and desserts of all types and this is why they also call themselves a gelato cafe. As in last night’s special on their sign: Dessert cocktail, three squares. –

Later, the Thai peanut veggie wrap, for only $9, teams sauteéd zucchini, sweet peppers, pineapple, asparagus, shredded carrot, brown rice, cilantro and their spicy Thai peanut sauce.
For going Orleans, there is Bourbon Street fritatta with eggs, queso, sweet peppers and andouille sausage baked in a bed of zucchini noodles with a side of spicy etouffee.
Upping the ante is the Very Veggie Frittata sporting asparagus, carrot, sweet peppers, onion, much mushroom and parmesan baked in that bed of zucchini noodles. The Italian-style sausage fritatta finds mozzarella, sweet peppers and onion baked in a bed of zucchini noodles, as well.
As for omelets, going back to breakfast, there is queso, sautéed crimini mushrooms, red peppers and Chihuahua cheese. The avocado bacon omelet brings in tomato, and the Greek shrimp some feta, black olives, spinach, fresh tomatoes and garlic, and for $12 the ham, onion and provolone, and likewise the crispy hashbrowns, Italian sausage, bacon, mushrooms, Chihuahua cheese and spicy aioli. It can also be avocado or garlic spiced.
And there’s the all-in omelet, and Phoebe’s Toast Toppers with options that include both Feta and goat cheese, and red pepper with the egg. Two entrees each provide goat cheese and — what’s called the Oh Yeah! — portabella for breakfast that’s sauteed, along with that treatment for onion, peppers and spinach, and ham topped with semi-soft egg and provolone.
Then layer onto The Portland, for $14, sautéed portabella and peppers with brown rice, spinach, asparagus, onions and all the rest. The Traditional French toast pours on two pieces of cranberry wild rice. With the pancakes, with local syrup, add chocolate chips or blueberries.
When it comes to the bistro filet steak, typically eight ounces, add two eggs with a side of chimmi churri.
Sharon’s French Toast finds three slices offered.
As far as uptown entrees, the bistro fillet medallions are also served with Thai chimmi churri, seasonal veggies, and baked mashed potato with cheese. You can add, count ‘em, five garlic buttered shrimp. Camille’s chicken tenders with baked mashed potato with cheese have lots of sauce choices including raspberry chipotle.
The mushroom marsala risotto with lemon chicken, speaks for itself, but there’s more. Its chicken picata with lemon zest served over creamy mushroom marsala risotto. Grilled ahi tuna (it can be seared to medium rare, if that’s your style) is also given such treatment.
You can also toast to roasted red pepper asparagus. Incorporated into entrees is creamy basil pesto, with fresh seasoned tomato. All these are served with baguette.
And hark forth jambalaya! This time of year. Shrimp, chicken, and andoullle sausage, etouffee (a trinity of green peppers, onions, and celery), simmered with creole spices and served over brown rice with pita. Spicy!
As such, there is a Thai entrée for a mere $11. Amazing, they say! Mango, sweet peppers, asparagus, and zucchini tossed in their Thai chimmi churn with brown rice. There’s also an alternative with rice noodles topped by cabbage, crushed peanuts and cilantro.
The Robust Betty gets its name from steak medallions and three shrimp. Add veggie hash and mushrooms caramelized with pit barbeque sauce topped with fresh jalapeño, and more. Cauliflower risoto blends in a special bleu cheese sauce to what’s garden grown.
Here’s how we roll. Noodles cannelloni is $12 and is pasta rolled with ricotta, mozzarella, parmesan, chicken and Italian sausage, and your choice of red, rosa or alfredo sauce. You can get a version with butternut squash and more sauces.
Deck some steak out with crimini mushrooms, asparagus, red and yellow peppers, and parmesan cheese. Zoodles too. And use of raspberry chipotle.
Again the sides rule the game. Cheesy baked AND mashed potatoes, root veggies, mixed greens and fresh fruit are available for between $2 and $4.
More and bigger salads have artichoke hearts, talatel (GF) and live tapanade, wasabi, tamari ginger sauce and pickled ginger (both of those). And they’ve got their I65 creamy parm, so you don’t have to hit the road for it.
Both soy and ginger grace your broccoli Bowl. And consider that Cuban chicken has sweet pickles, and the hummus has parmesan.
The New Yorker feels like you are right in the Big Apple. And some dishes add apple also. Dried cranberries and sugared walnuts, anyone?
To top off the Greek burger, you can add gyro. Your street taco can come in a box, and conjured up are camarones (i.e. six split shrimp) and at times ciabatta.
There are also plenty of beverages, nonalcoholic and also non-virgin, and desserts of all types and this is why they also call themselves a gelato bar, and we’ll deal with those in later post.

Their address is 729 N. Knowles Ave. and the phone is (715) 246-7657.

The fun and funky 4-20 female knew all that a good clerk should. And she could even poke fun at her industry. Her store had sold out of CBD-infused drinks, as a hurricane had hit their supply center ceiling down south. And this was April 20, so she added that they’d been highly busy all day. No rest for the wicked.
She said this with an expression showing equal doses of exasperation and exhaustion.
So standing only hookah-length away, I made the first joke, between us, to avoid any interloping vape interludes. Maybe the workers were high enough to reach ceiling level and beyond. So they can fix it fast. (See this post’s last paragraph for the commonality). Or maybe not.
Then she threw it back my way: Maybe they didn’t even know that which was missing.
They might, or might not, if Colorado workers. Like my former neighbor who, one of two, took the pandemic as a chance to move there and work at, one of many … pot farms. But their book-keeping at times went up in smoke, so to speak. I’ll let you, dear reader, finish the joke. OK, I will. Were their problems stemming from quality control? Or was it done too often, stoners doing overtime.

– Is gray, as in Wolves, the new black as far as sports-bar jersey color? Or green yields to a bit orange or red? This crew, and not the Brew Crew, might leave you black and blue if you diss their metro team(s). Just where was this Wild vigil of many colors?  To get the answer, visit the department Where Did You See It. –

Another thing that required right timing, just today on cell phone, tell me my slightly stoner buddy where you are parked alongside the park, lakefront side, taking in the new, majorly flooded street scenes.
Stationed north, or south, up or down along the watermark? Not sure? His pix would tell.
Thus, I’ll take you back to a couple of decades ago, the last time the waters hit this level. Each year I’d check them as they rose, and contribute a couple of paragraphs to newspapers such as the Eau Claire Leader-Telegram, or even the Milwaukee Journal (that was the paper’s name back in the day before they merged with the Sentinel in the same city) as part of their coverage package. And when waiting for the water to rise even more, when the coming rain would soon make for a big finish, I hung with a college J student who was clerking at what was then going by the name More 4, as the waters lapped at its back docks and doors. The only grocery store in the downtown, it was open 24 hours.
I got a great photo of a women wearing a slim off-shoulder pink blouse taking her dog down to the rising edge of the river, now reaching to a level where the dike road was close to under-water, as some people in the background still wandered and gawked. And a park bench in the foreground had liquid lapping up to its top rail.
That photo never ran, space reasons. But it told the story in many forms. I still have an old print of the image, gotten at the local pharmacy chain, since that was back in a day before digital pix.
And I don’t have to paint you a picture, all the cool clubs in Stillwater’s waterfront are edging up to their barstools underwater. Keeps away the rowdy types, as this is indeed Minnesota side, that Stillwater has become known for?
And in Hudson, the fittingly named Pier 500 is no longer local, as it was dislodged by floodwaters from its perch a block from the St. Croix River and then was floated down to the Mississippi as far as a Des Moines lock and dam. (Just kidding).
Up a few blocks and bars, was a video was being taken (for recordkeeping, and/or insurance adjusting?) of one of the wind-and-rain-damaged lots and cars. (No power trucks). Or doing a selfie. As he soon was joined by another videographer. No wait, they’re just playing on their social media devices at length. Frogger, joined by mallards, in the wet-grass side lane? At least they no longer have to worry about slabs of slushy ice falling from eaves — sometimes from more than one spot in a doorway.
A sign along the way was describing what they could do for your cable. Install it? Fix it? As it is likely down recently. But the need for such repair work soon would fade, and that sign since went poof. Replaced by this one: Suns out, solar panels in! We now have sun-powered Flix Busses.

The specials will abound around a theme, as Thursday comes around, at the newest such shop in the area, New Richmond Tobacco and Vape on the south end.
They call it their Spaced Out 420 (no hyphen or colon) sale, and you won’t want to forego this one, as part of celebrating the special holiday (non-official but observed, by those who bow to Black Sabbath and Sweet Leaf) again on April 20 for all stoners, known to all who have relatively clear memories as 4-20.
Mystery bags will be for sale, so you have to be trusting of the staff’s selections, among their bigger than usual inventory that includes some very hard to find products, among them the delivery-method merch that when fully loaded allows you to enjoy their other merch.
This is just like those offered for years at Pudge’s and Emma’s and other St. Croix County bars and liquor stores. One had to look at the prices, which varied by venue but usually not by much, to see if a deal was likely to be had, and match the alcohol percentage tallies of bottles of their off-sale booze — and we have to invoke the impact of profit motive and the unloading of product that just isn’t selling.
Back at NR TAV on April 20, you can buy two disposables and get one free. The same ratio exists with most Delta products, 8 and 9. But why would you want to dispose of such things? Or why not?
Being creative with their specials, you can also get a bottle of (juiced) juice with purchase of any nicotine device, saith NR TAV.
There are so many “delivery” options, broadly, to facilitate getting your stuff inside you, in the Amazon era.
Buy any glass product and get the second one for 50 percent off, at NR TAV. In case you Shattered the first one. The Stones, with Old School smokers like guitarist Keith Richards and their smokin’ music, should know.
(The) first three people to spend $100 at the roomy venue located on Knowles, South rather then North, will win a free prize, (is that not why they call it a prize?) Like a Vegas poker game to win, by getting to the three-digit dollar level, so you might want to up the ante or amount.
There will also be on-hand a crew of lobbyists, topically, fighting for your right to party with the newest and biggest option that’s on the legislative table(s) for legalization, and explaining how to get a bill passed to stoners. (Just kidding for that whole sentence).
Also, the first trio inside the door win a free door prize. One thinks of music by The Doors and such.
And that flavor of music, like Pink Floyd, might be an inspiration for the other vape and more shops in Rivers Falls, Hudson and New Richmond — the Devil’s Tri-Tone? — to plan even well in advance, so you as a consumer don’t always have to wait until The Twentieth, their raffles and other 4-20 amenities. Amen.

As its another weekend, renewed spackles of snow. Tiny constructs with their constraints on the cold concrete.

So my mind backed up to where I was at the start of the April First blizzard. To the first woman of us at dawn who tried to plow through with our subcompacts, would there even be any point to the effort to get going? The blizzard blast was already piled more than three feet high at the front of the driveway bent to the street, anyway, due to the plowing already on steroids. So where was she going to travel so urgently? She was emotionally snowed under by the need to get to work.
That lady, said my brother as the key mover whenever a push was needed, had her parking brake on the entire time they were trying to move her suddenly-seeming-vast vehicle. Gimme a break, he added, like said to Diamond Dave in the Van Halen song.
But between a full three of them, pushing and pulling, they made a bit of headway, eventually … Then falling back though.
So the pails of sand to use from the quite old apartment building at the top of one level of stairs, and bottom of another, would thus not be needed. Yet.
I saw her much later, I thought, as we finally were able to leave the New Richmond lot, only on foot. Oops, a different Asian woman. You are someone else, but I am still right here, perched on the snowbank’s crest.
In a place a short piece away, the license plate Out On The Street said APT 1931. Plausible for the year of construction, methinks, buried parking lot and otherwise.
When we got back there early that evening, after delivering the goods to Hudson via U-Haul only, as the main car with snow almost to the hood was still right there. I checked my text messages, and the latest one said that the gray van would be ticketed and towed come Monday morning. That would avoid someone having to put in more overtime, I’m guessing. But could you take the towing plow and push us, please. We’d welcome that.
The leasing company was an entity WE had reached out to early in the morning, but following that time and their assurances, many texts followed that, for another time, threatened they’d tow you out of the snow to an impound lot. On just that day, I counted almost a dozen since the morn.
They were serious about their craft, so inside the place, get right what they will have to view at inspection. As I vacuumed with my final thrusts — yes I will do that — I kept finding that the cord was getting caught in the underlying grooves in those winter boots, then would not pull loose. So, I thought, reposition the way you step, hit a different spot on the bottom rubber sole. Hey, do you know how many grooves there are at the bottom of most every boot?
Or trees to stomp on with those grooved boots. There would be that too, when finally leaving New Richmond. As we progressed southwest, the number of trees and their bowing became greater in number, dropping and crossing further and further into the edge of roadways.
The Sub House woman later provided to these hungry movers … subs. But almost not. Just info. They would normally open at 11 a.m., but this was a different day that brought lots of power outages, including at the new apartment, however only overnight. But the Sub House wasn’t able to fully open until 1 p.m. and that meant their daily bread would have to be baked fast, with one ear given to the customers at the same time.
Fast forward to the Smilin’ Moose version of the outage. It fried their sound system, the deejay said, so the music volume was low as a subtle bass line. Tell that to the new bride with her cowgirl party who just wanted to dance. I approached her and joked that her hat should have been black. But all she wanted to do was dance, and the softer music just wasn’t doing it. So could I put in my pitch for greater volume, but was told it wasn’t going to be. Sorry.
How about greater control of my aching muscles? Mark the pharmacist plays Dr. Phil. Twice. Could all this moving, some of it weighty furniture, be aggravating to my Tourette Syndrome muscles? And what about the stray voltage past, fry those neurons? I got one “no” and one “don’t know.”
And what’s that roar? Vacuum running guy. No boots this time. Out in the parking lot. Remove tree trunk residue.
The snow on them might melt early, then freeze as evening fell. (Thus became efficient for smaller couples to do their thing early. These were dads and their young daughters parading in holiday pastel dress.) The same process to follow on from the weather pattern was shown with customer traffic in downtown Hudson going through the next week — and into the party zone it becomes most every weekend that introduces Easter.
At the Moose that Friday night, it was a few gaggles of college kids who were home, and three who looked like they could be their parents.
So we are in Wisconsin, so let’s party, spring being nature’s way to promote it, Agave Kitchen said. Where else did they learn? The retort: “What else is there to do in North Dakota?”
Across the aisle, a frat guy was wearing a Journal Sentinel T-shirt, and the Milwaukee paper said “No Sweet,” an apparent reference to the bevy of Badger basketball bounty, or bust.
I had to wiggle past the guy to get out the door, for my way home. But as he turned around, it was a differently shirted guy. Boozy and chatty. To say something, I told him I used to write for the MJS, and all he wanted to talk about concerning my industry was this: “So what to you think of what AI has done to it?” After internet.
Just basically left with blathering blogging, bloke.

It reached the mid-80s today. I personally like the 80s to be my music, to quote one-man-bander Jeff Loven, not the temps. If the 70s, then light and breezy. The sidewalks and dike walks, and park walks and riverfront and lakefront walks — no cake walks quite this soon — were soon abuzz with people, and places that serve them all over either were doing final spring-early summer prep of their patios, or opening them for service, and early, and not as in the season.

As this was a far cry from less than two weeks ago. As a friend just noted to me, in this state you can have snow and boiling sun all in the same seven days. And on such a fateful note …
We all thought but didn’t tell each other that moving across-county to my new apartment on April First, just as the midnight hour occurred to bring about such, might yield a late-season, snow-season disaster. To the point that power went out due to tons — as far as either the pounds or numbers — of downed trees on one end as you trekked toward it, and there even was a tornado cited on the other.

– So we now refer to mid-April, then April 20 and 22, for our haul/trek/trip back to live music. Heavy on Ziggy’s, for two straight Fridays.

So we start at April 15 at Ziggy’s, the Hudson version, with the mostly country, musical act Nathan Hansen, (and we are not talking about the old boy-band by that name). But this guy rocks the muscle shirt even more than most of the carefully coiffed for video country acts. Those big biceps can really play that guitar that he holds thigh-high, colored with equal doses of slightly-swirled black and white, the two main cowboy hat tones, although he is not wearing one.

On the following Friday, April 22, there is another new act at The Z, named the Generation X Jukebox. Bet that genre bends, but stays classic. And if you can’t fit that name onto the marquee, just shorten it to Gen X Juke. Do they play mostly three-minute songs to accommodate such?

What? We just blipped over 4-20? We all know why and what that is. See Picks of the Week, soon if I’m not slacking, to pick up the pace on that party. –

At a nightclub plopped between them, in this ongoing tale of two snow-shutdown cities, the Blackout band was playing — if they could go on. Maybe we should have taken that as an omen, although because of snow we passed that point hours later than planned.
And you might have (rightly) thought that Ye Ol’ Ice Boulder, at the edge of that months-troublesome street in front of my former place — as yes we were able to eventually complete the residence transfer — as pointed out in a pair of past posts, was bad and big?
And what did that grand groundhog see in early February, near the start of weather things? And the idea that March comes in like a lion and/or goes out like a lamb? Who cares! As its more importantly an April Fools Day joke. What a fool believes.
Were we that? My mother and brother had traveled cross-state to move me into my new place, and Tom almost stopped and got a motel after rain turned to sleet and then snow as Eau Claire turned into Menomonie.
So I am the man, or the son, with the van. Buried in my … And it would take more then one car and truck or two. And not just for making the move, but even supplying the sheer torque to get it to go, as we as in our various vehicles got stuck in the snow at least four times. Lost count.
The snow level was measured at a couple of centimeters below 13 inches, so when I’d guessed a foot I was close although overly kind, so even if making it through the parking lot then down the alley, there was that avalanche of snow waiting at the entry to the street, as THOSE, city plows had already been through three times per my mom’s count. She knew because of tossing and turning all eve, all the while worrying that the local-corporate apartment lender (Lowcal) would announce at hey, you got about the length of an album side to move your moving van or it would be ticketed and towed to enable plowing.
That would be 10 a.m., they said. But then it came 11 and 12 (high noon or midnight? OK, that’s an exaggeration). So what to do? Find someone with a snowblower. It took a while, but through networking with a neighbor I had never met, we even got a big ol’ blade. But even that got stuck.
In hindsight, should have hit the guy up when I first saw him out with his (much smaller unit) of a snowblower at 7 a.m. when the sunlight was soon starting to shine again.
But come noon, when it became clear — trying to be clairvoyant as far as the plowing pace — we would not see any light at the end of the snow tunnel anytime soon, I got on my boots that were made for walking and hit the street to find another neighbor with a now very popular such unit. And it was good that I tied the shoelaces carefully, because it would be a hike.
First guy blowing out that I saw down about three blocks down — I told him it was two for expediency sake — kinda blew me off, saying it was not for he that he was doing the service, but a neighbor, and can’t you just shovel it yourself, as it would be hard to get the snowblower, and it musta been an ultra mega like the regional old band name, down that far and he did not have a truck. I backed off and said I was sorry for asking, but that time was of the essence to make the move, and it would take many hours for us to do it by hand. Then I thought, hey, if it Getting There is the concern, we do have this still empty U-Haul …
So back around, then turn south a jog. On foot of course. But that guy it seemed might have to be more reliant on his kid with a shovel then he’d wanted. His snowblower, though currently chipping away, just might not last to the end of the driveway before breaking down.
Knocked on the next door up, no one was there, and to boot, their snowblower was sticking unused into a snowbank. A woman drove slowly past then parked, and methinks she might be the homeowner. Nope, just getting out of her car to take some photos of an unrelated house.

Then there was pre-Easter salvation.

So a last ditch effort, back to the early morning blower, but it was his wife who answered the door. She said he was at a local funeral home, which employs him to plow snow. She did not know when he would be back, but added that she’d flag him down over the phone and describe the dilemma. Sure enough then, it wasn’t long and he pulled up with full blade and went to work. Not just one pass over the driveway, but also its edges, two then three times … My brother and I worried he’d get in trouble with the apartment leasing company if proceeding much further. But after minutes our end of the driveway was cleared, and it looked like we we in the clear. But a last pass (was attempted) do get the car out also.
It was then the guy got stuck. Can someone even push back a blade-fronted machine? He became a beneficiary, in reverse, of my brother’s Suburban and chain, and bro told me he’d needed to do the same thing, jerking his chain, to remove the U-Haul from its parked space back in the Hudson lot, or no trip at all. And as far as the man with the plow plan. What was his name? Ryan, or Bryan, or Hyman? We agreed we’d just stay forgetful. Meanwhile, the lady of that house stood by with her and hubby’s solution, should things get any worse: A plastic jug of chicken grits. (What ???) But this would get mentioned again later.
But it would soon take more than grits to get unstuck. Back up the van, anyone. Got it a ways, but no more. What followed was an unbalanced attempt with many levels of levers to get the job done. Beyond the usual push and pull of forth than reverse in quick tandem. Two pieces of cardboard done twice, one for each front wheel. Digging out with shovel and feet and even hands. On all fours. Almost crawling underneath the main van structure — with a nod to make my head fit. Alas, no further motor movement, to or frow, to speak of.
At this point, who comes to the door but … the funeral home director! In full suit. Checking in on us before and/or during our metamorphic death. But for now, grits would save, he said. Love to make small talk, but I must help my Blood Brother. But wait, aren’t you from that old home across from my way back old workplace, the Hudson Star-Observer? Reliving the days of the building reconstruction that followed, as a break from digging.
After the car slid back to where it had been in the lot, through the help of all and Iam and Allah, we managed to load everything into the U-Haul and be on our way.
A past political placard said it this way, Winter is coming and with it higher fuel bills and linked to that grocery, too, and the like. But 18 billion inches of snow? This is not the south shores of Lake Superior or the north pole.
The another ye ol’ sign says it all. It was up for about a month in the worst of it, Winter I’m breaking up with you because its time I start seeing other seasons. Since then, post April, it said, Winter I’m sorry for what I said. They may now take back taking it back.