What to do if trying to go home for the holidays and your flight is canceled from to be topical, the DC or NY or LA areas, or wherever, for snowy weather or other reasons that could broadly in some cases be called market, or Congressional, conditions? Forget Planes, Trains and Automobiles. (A last and late political shutdown euphemism, before I get shut down.) Simply hop onboard Santa’s sleigh, as he’s been seen taller than reindeer’s antlers above the brim already, because he and it have been spied in Wisconsin and moving southward in the form of a rooftop decorative scene. He’s actually up there, and I recall he was wearing a big floodlight on his stocking cap. Give him just three steps towards the chimney. Or maybe he’s a Grinch, I couldn’t tell as the near-Rudolph speed of the driving family member was 30 mph. And Santa and his scene are also adorning, in a painted-on way, every inch of a nearby garage door, up and down and across, the double-wide kind. The other direction? Another rooftop Santa with sleigh, led by a great big Frosty the Snowman!

— This is a small thing to top off a big appetizer I unveiled at Thanksgiving on these pages. I was in line at the grocery store buying some of those both jellied and berried cranberries to make the previous dish — I think that’s when I got them — and a few other things, and it was going quicker than usual.

The cashier smiled and quickly ended up telling me and the woman behind me about a trick of a dish that her sister had mastered. I wanted to use it and asked her to repeat the instructions as I walked to bag the groceries. She did, even though to listen I had to waylay a minute and felt I was keeping the next lady from her appointed holiday rounds.

First, say on Christmas Eve, slice up apples, maybe those remaining from dinner that night, and put the slim wedges in the freezer. I recall that she said green ones are the best, but not mandatory. The next morning, for a quick snack after gifts are opened, or to add “fresh” flavor to a main dish at a second holiday meal, maybe for a set of other guests, take the apples out of the freezer and sprinkle brown sugar (and maybe the regular kind too) and cinnamon on the top. This latest is my take on her take. If not added to the cranberry dish, by the time for dessert the temperature and therefore texture should be even better, like the sugarplums that danced in your little one’s heads. The main part is a healthier alternative to go with Christmas cookies. —

But hey, the Coneheads have it. One such orange traffic cylinder, borrowed for a good purpose from a nearby construction zone, was plopped atop the head of a snowman, Frosty style, but taking the place of his top hat. It melted before I could check if the Conehead had matching corncob pipe. No carrot nose, either, again market conditions. This Frosty facsimile was taller than your average human, meaning the effort to get the head up was superhuman. Half man but fully divine? Or half man and half machine, like in movies and song?

Meanwhile, the cones on top of shopping markers, delineating by the dozens the cart corrals over and above snow in store parking lots, could also be seen as serving a similar faux top hat motif. But hey, I know that parking lots make you see red, in more than one way, these days. And the streets that linked them sported piles of pushed-aside-of-a-car snow that looked like manger with sheep or more sleigh with reindeer scenes. But they were alas, piles of crusty snow, some pushed higher than others and nothing intentional. However, that white sparkling nose, to go with the rest of the body, might as well have been bright red, for sure not a brownnose. Or to further get a leg up, go with a sci-fi creature with more than one nose, of different colors. And maybe add to the motif, having five nostrils. Note the odd number.

Then multiply it by 2,000. That gets you to the 10,000 Lights, and days and nights, that represent the total number of travelers that the local area Chamber of Commerce, and Tourism Bureau, hope will still come through the introductory initial gates of the state on I-94, head north a mile and peruse the brilliantly beautiful lighted scene all through Lakefront Park. (The target figure, as that’s what these entities create, might be off by a zero.)

On the main drag, in one of the many antique shops, there is a brown (boo) Bigfoot creature that’s two feet high, shorter than any average Frosty or Abominable, gracing the front window for many a year, that has been relegated to the back part of the front to make plenty of room for the really cool Christmas decor. Every shop window, and some have more than one, are on a different sub-theme of the overall holiday theme. What did Zeppelin sing, “the snow drives back the foot that’s slow?”

Lastly, for now at least, in the below freezing temps that had come to mark the winter weather, basically until Christmas Day itself, when over here the degrees might hit 50 – unlike the number of PhDs that will now be generated in this country just south of Canada – a Starbucks told the tale. There was the usual long drive-through crawl at the local one, originally, before Target added another, but nothing to write home about, or curtail you from getting your cup of driveup joe. Still, on a cold day, a couple parked a full block away for the privilege of going inside. Not that noteworthy, except for the fact that she was wearing several inches of bare midriff, temps not frosty enough for frostbite, but … Why does this theme keep “cropping” up? And why do I continue to write about it? Because it’s there. Two days later, when an even thinner woman way at the back of my across-state bus strolled off during the 20-minute break, she wasn’t wearing much more, and no raspberry beret either, as we were headed east and a bit south towards the Blues Brothers area of Chicago, not west towards Minneapolis. Couldn’t she have taken the time to put on her coat? Gotta make time, fast, so I can get that extra cheeseburger so I will put on a few pounds, since I am named Applonia, as the holidays and their feasting were not fully here yet.

But hey, drove past the rooftop Santa-Grinch and the one on the garage door again, but again, had to make time so I got no further read on it. And back at the homefront? Christmas cookies galore, including some of rocking horses, which my naughty nephews turned into saddle-wearing by use of candy sparkles, as the holidays approach. And a single sprinkle for Rudolph, in the absence of a Candy-O nose. John Candy and Steve Martin? Get it?

But when the celebrations are here, enjoy in the best way you can.

Thanks for reading. Joe

Remember the big and thick old Sears catalog?

And those of competitors, too. Divided if I recall from days of my boyhood into summer and winter versions, thus differentiating between the times where there was an occurring of the equinoxes and solstices. Might as well be that popular venue among metalheads and classic rockers alike, the televised spring pagan theme of a Blue Oyster Cult concert. Is that when the clams mated? Bred?

Of particular interest here is the latest Montgomery Wards catalog I got in the mail, and how there is a “wholesale” new approach to an old favorite, a 180-degree twist from how they used to advertise. That is wholly “wholesome,” taking a page from the book of a series of quaint rural-life magazines, long published right here in southeast Wisconsin, in a Milwaukee suburb.

— Metal musicians from Dio to Halford have done, or redone, Christmas favorite songs, mostly under the radar. But the first such song from the Skillet, a metal band identified as Christian, is perhaps the only to raise controversy, as some will associate anything with loud growling vocals and guitar as demonic. The first part of the song, O Come Emanuel, is very traditional in singing and instrumental and the video is at times gripping and in a church setting, but the last minute or so is all out metal, showing scenes from a recording studio and live guitar footage. The group has denied any bad intent, saying they hope people will get a positive message and find the song as inspiring as they have. —

These pages, in both these sets of publications, are chock full of small boxed images and blocks of text, packing several on a single page, that delve more into arts and crafts, and home decor and cheese, then what they used to lead off with — hundreds of pictures of women sporting dresses and underwear, some of whom were shown several inches high and took up the majority of a page itself. Some of the design elements like font and point size are often changed up too, and the current catalog is less then 100 pages. Some of these more modeling-type photographs, rather than stock quality, featured women together in a shot, often turned toward each other, and now you don’t see that pose. The number of pieces in this shopping wardrobe are a scant few, scattered about amidst other products at midrange through the catalog, usually portraying no more than someone lounging in a full-length robe, but standing straight up in front of the camera these days.

Social mores and ad strategies have changed … Or is it just the method of delivery?

The older catalogs showed dozens of pages of women in lingerie — as you didn’t need to be Victoria’s Secret to be sexy. But other bras paraded in front of you were downright matronly. Even in the bigger garments format, there would only be spread over three columns, the product designees A through H, typically to order, not stopping at D.

Separately shown were coats and pantsuits and shoes too. But ouch, almost ala Epstein-ish, some of the skimpier and more daring shots featured very young looking girls, such as on a beach with even the occasional see-through bikini top, and a small group of teens running through beach waves with their arms around each other, in a tack they do not show today and appear to consciously steer away from. Groups of some of these pages were glossy and thick, but some were dull yellow paper, running consecutively in sections of at least eight to accommodate the printer.

The newer versions, with maybe a half-dozen shots showing a full-length outfit on a grown woman, have about twice as many males pictured, selling the menswear they wear, in what appears to be a carefully chosen marketing move. Now we’re also more likely to see a bunch of cheese and sausage trays minus the person serving them, and I was surprised at the overall disparity between these different kinds of product photos. Of course, there were all the tools and small implements taking up the back, as the total pages numbered near a thousand.

In that same day’s mail, there was the pitch from the US Postal Service about how they can help with all your holiday shopping and shipping needs. Their photo, run quite big, harkened to a different kind of nostalgia, with the carrier wearing a trench coat and bowler hat, personally handing a package to a housewife standing with door open at the top of the small stairs of her brownstone.

President Trump was seen to flub the post-turkey day toss test at the Army-Navy college football game, making it a rather flat non-spiral, although maybe oscillating, over and over attempted, not end over end and going ’round and ’round, like a spun Ratt mic. Feathers (that continue on) in the cap of many a social media mogul. And for that of writers of bad headlines that can’t even master verb agreement, and their takes on this latest Trump flap, of the flippant, traveled the gamut, falling along party lines left and right, like hashmarks.

This of course, from the man who had minted His own coin, with His likeness not Caesar’s, and pay taxes essentially to thus and His pet causes and conflicts, as ’tis the season to quote Christ. So I myself vetted myself, as I have been asked to occasionally flip it before (although by newspaper publishers and not grid game sponsors, although they can be in cahoots or one and the same.) And just maybe sing the National Anthem, though my tenure as that kind of tenor might prove temporary, thus a flop right at the time of the flip. I tossed my own coin, and took care to ensure I made it a quarter, one of my few, as I have more pennies but since they are going out of style and put out of service, are about as useless these days to flip, with their small diameter, as anything but a dime. The Congressional Mint, otherwise known as the lawmakers lounge, is a place where they’ve bantied around the idea of a 15-cent-piece over nickel coffee, but that bill would take decades to pass, and in a year or two be surpassed by a two-dollar coin.

So there would be more and bigger turns, as needed with my Tourette’s and haplessly horrible fine motor coordination. But I adjusted and got the spin right each time, of all five I attempted, and couldn’t end the rotation if I tried. (Unless I brought the thumb up by an extension of the arm only, then it had a prayer to flatten, like a budget should.)

Maybe if He quadrupled down and took one of His own gold dollars out of His pocket, where I’ll bet He carries enough of the prized pieces to fill a gilded ballroom, and then gives them out to homeless people out on the street outside The White House — just don’t go for a totally budgeted, mean $99K, or God forbid double it to near $199K, or provoke a line item veto, or do I need to flip it in form — followed by persuasion to vote for Him for His third term. But it will take that value, per billionaire, for people to care for their neighbors in this bad economy, with most figures simply holding steady or worse going into the holiday break. He of the Bigger Headed Coin than the Monsters could not create such an endowment, in a measure large enough for rich people to snip their hedges from.

But that doesn’t help us now, from the mismanagementness at a much greater morgue than is Fort Knox, another reason he should be able to make it spin without falling. Yee of coinage made by inept cobblers. So, yes, He flubbed the coin toss test, like that of the countess. And then to the tune of starving millions, this is a man who believes he knows a sure thing when He sees it, who knows it could be another Bitcoin. Or five golden rings. Or biomedical adventure, and we won’t get into that nasty additives thing, although it could do double-duty as a cure for mister maladapted medical malady and His hobbled hands. And He who would be king said Biden had vexing health issues in his vortex, an OCD He can’t seem to get past. Give that new main man a hand. For future coin tosses.

For context, it is tradition for a sitting president to attend, and toss upward and out at, Army-Navy games, and Trump has never missed one while in office. You’d think that He would have gotten the gig down by now. But He probably had bombing Syria on His mind.

How many thousands of flowers have there been, sold in her shop, mixed together in even more combinations, and including stone-based ensembles and other art pieces, to go with gifts or standing by themselves this holiday season, of more than one celebration. Especially if we do not gloss over its reds and greens? They’ve long lovingly added as accents blues and yellows and oranges. And include winged and often shining and sparkling — or ivory white — cherubs and angels and maybe even elves. Or a bit darker theme for the right time and friend, for example, are continuing to provide others with laughter through Erin’s gift shop. All now being sold at auction to aid the originator of these creations and many more, who unfortunately has been seriously ailing, so the shop she loves has to close its beautiful doors. Plans to add even more pieces and expand those types of lifegiving smiles have been shuttered, in favor of others literally and hopefully somehow lifesaving.

Erin Powers of Bo Jon’s Flowers needs our help! The following phrasings, a call out, tell the story best, as only a family member can, of the will to endure and fight on through multiple surgeries and medication changes and trips to Mayo. And we must not forget that her loving husband and father, Jeff, is by her side, and also has been very sick. So I humbly add and quote, what has been penned about their current online auction and GoFundMe page, to provide a more full description of their story.

Cara Powers for Erin Powers

Donation protected

Hello, my name is Cara. Many of you know that my mom, Erin, owns Bo Jon’s Flowers. The intention was that one day I would take over the flower shop; however, health issues between both my parents are forcing us to take a different path for now.

My brothers, Liam and Jonah, are helping me with this GoFundMe as all three of us are overwhelmed with the idea of doing it alone and failing. Our mom’s last open-heart surgery totaled around $140,000 for the surgery alone. We tried to do a GoFundMe, which raised a mere $50.

What people tend to forget is that there were many trips from Hudson, as that is where we lived at the time, to Mayo. Many of them were overnight stays. Between gas, hotels, food, medicine, insurance, plus insurance deductibles, we were financially strapped.

The other obstacle that most people don’t know is that with our mom’s conditions, she can’t take most medicines that would be prescribed for her various conditions. For example, she has severe rheumatoid arthritis that not only impacts her joints but also her soft tissue. There are some days during a flare-up that she has it in her eyes, lungs, and heart. There were eight different medicines she would be “allowed” to take because of her heart condition.

This was painful to watch as we quickly realized that the medicines were making her worse. Her quality of life declined rapidly. Then there was one last medicine; it was new, but Mayo said it was promising. So far, no one had any adverse reactions to it. Yay, there was hope!

Then there was the part of how those meds were administered. My dad had to give them to her. He often said the needle might as well have been a harpoon because of the size of it and how much pain it caused my mom. A few weeks later, our mom started having major allergic reactions to it. She was the first patient to have a reaction to it.

Here we are today, doctors are thinking outside the box of what she can take. Unfortunately, most of the time that this happens, it IS NOT covered by insurance because it hasn’t been FDA approved for the way that she is using it. That means our parents are paying out of pocket for those medications.

My mom has Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy (HCM for short). Quite simply, her heart likes to grow extra big, oftentimes creating its own obstruction. My mom’s last open-heart surgery was eight years ago. The doctors have been holding out as long as they possibly can to do another open-heart surgery because of her scar tissue. They say this will be the last open-heart surgery that she will be able to have.

Eight years ago, my siblings and I watched our mom hardly be able to walk from the bed to the bathroom. She was sleeping 22 hours a day as she was so tired. At the time, her body was only getting 12% oxygenated blood. She was passing out all the time when she did try to stand up, oftentimes injuring herself.

The surgery was extremely hard on our mom physically and mentally. Mentally hard on our dad and us as well. There wasn’t anything that we could do to help her. It was devastating to watch. It was frustrating as we went about our lives while our mom continued to struggle with pain and healing.

Fast forward to today, our mom is waiting to get into Mayo. The Mayo Clinic knows our mom’s medical history. She has so many rare combinations of things. We have had doctors look at her medical files, say explicit words, and walk out of the room. She is a complex case.

My mom has gone back to passing out several times a day among many other things. We aren’t capable of doing all the things that we need to do to survive the day, let alone run a business, so with that, we have decided that we need to shut down the business. Sadly, our last day open will be Friday, November 21st.

Our mom will NOT be able to work while recovering from her surgeries. The length of time for her to heal between these surgeries will be longer than most normal people because of the complexity of her health conditions. During this time, my dad also needs to have several surgeries.

Their care will fall mostly onto me. I am not quite ready to run Bo Jon’s on my own, never mind having to do it with one, if not two, of my parents down from a surgery. That is one of the decisions of why we have to close. My brother works a full-time job that is demanding and requires long hours, meaning he won’t be here to help. My other brother works but can’t drive, so I will have to give him rides to work, get my parents to and from appointments, while finishing my last year of high school. (I have extremely high standards for myself as far as my grades and my work. I can’t let that slip now.)

We have watched my mom pour her heart out to giving so much to the community and surrounding communities. She is an incredibly caring and giving human being. I know her not being able to do more and take this time for herself is eating away at her. She’s just that kind of person. If you know her, you are fortunate. (Chad Trainor of Urban Olive & Vine, Blooms for Rooms (688 rooms), hundreds of care packages to deployed soldiers, providing food for families in need, plus so much more that isn’t seen or mentioned publicly.)

My brothers and I are asking for you to share this as much as possible. If thousands of people saw this and donated $1, it would be that easy, but people have to see it and want to help. We want to reach a point where my mom can focus on healing and recovery, not going into the operating room stressed about how we are going to afford the simplest things in life, let alone the medications she has to pay out of pocket for.

She has debated not having these surgeries and just living the rest of her days, not being a burden on us but helping others as much as she can. The truth is…

We need our mom! The community needs our mom! She is a symbol of a fighter. No matter what hand you are dealt in life, you don’t give up. Over forty surgeries in her life and she still finds a reason to smile. She is a beacon of light for many, a sign of the good that is in this world.

Thank you for taking the time to read our story. If you take the time to share this and/or donate, thank you with every ounce of our beings.

Cara, Liam, and Jonah Powers

Cara PowersOrganizer

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This fundraiser mentions donating through another platform, but please know that only donations made on GoFundMe are protected by the GoFundMe Giving Guarantee.

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Organizer and beneficiary

Cara Powers

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River Falls, WI

Erin Powers

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Created November 19th, 2025.

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Bo Jon’s Flowers & Gifts Inventory reduction sale Online Only Auction

Solberg Auction

222 N. Main St

River Falls, WI 54022

 MapOpens in a new window

Date(s) 12/15/2025 – 12/22/2025.

Online Bidding will begin Monday December 15th at 11am. Central Bidding will begin to close on Monday December 22nd at 6pm Central. Bidding is now open in this inventory reduction sale, and it is online only in its auction format. So join the line. Thus shipping is available, in case you are in some far-flung field and need to buy something that should in the case of a perfect place, ideally, be available in your locale, too. But now this is your Christmas option.

This one was not a bust. It came for us! In that you can trust.

(And things almost got a bit dangerous for some pedestrians, like me. Read on down, about where the biggest snow was like the icing on the cake, concerning its ability for removal.)

I got victimized for not doing so, as in trusting, in the gray midweek afternoon. That’s following the latest predicted snowstorm, which actually hit this time. Fools like I had been lulled to sleep by the apparent shoveling that was taking place and the fact that we’d not yet been fully prepared, mentally mostly but also physically and emotionally, and especially budget-wise and planning-wise, for a near blizzard in early November … Here and there, but not everywhere in the city, had shovels been quickly turning.

— We would get more Staying-Alive-while-walking-I-Will-Survive faces bewildered by my face plants from tripping over my feet, in coming days, with the temps below zero. Maybe 10,000 Days worth. With partiers in T-shirts and less. We’ve kinda-outta-season even had feet long icicles, despite it being too cold for melting first. And my new-home-owner nephew in early November faced working snow blower issues. So can’t virtually speaking move thick snow, by conveying virtually I think, transactions online done virtually that same snow day. What wasn’t virtual, was it being supplied free through the help of a co-worker. Helps to know engineers. And mom had heating issues over the entire most icy eve, until her furnace then kicked in, but not until late morning, with a little help fixing from the tech’s cold hands. She just has a Christmas wish that it lasts the winter. Or two.

Reports said that some municipalities in the Twin Cities, even larger ones, had budgeted for four such blizzards a season, and we’ve already had two. My mom this month had been having multiple turkeys and the like looking in her patio door. Notice the past tense. Too cold for strutting or walking, unless you have boots made for it, like a cat or dog, keeping it the family’s pet kinds, but too cold for consideration of continuing this comparison — although I could …

A text I sent to another, who replied he passed the word around like a holiday bird, read that in the Green Bay-Denver football game, there would almost certainly be snow on the field no matter who was hosting. Or just cold turf? Some pre-holiday air travel has been shut down, and even ICE buses likely had to return to their base, as they could not get much further than the county line with their deportation. Depends which direction they go. Through Chicago? More in-county miles. Just stay in Hudson and train. Haha.

As Sunday turned into Monday, at midnight, the city plows had been through and there were only three cars parked on the main drag, which had not been ticketed. (There was lingering a big wisp of snow, presumably at least in part from the plows, drifted over onto the sidewalk in front of Mallory’s.) But still, the occasional siren wailed. —

The morning after the winter storm warning, that saw a few straggler flakes, the downtown was digging out after close to a foot hit, depending where you are, and it would prove too much for my feet. The sidewalks were mostly clear on the main drag of Second Street, but just a few people in the late morning still were turning the spades, making it a good reason to shop downtown. There were people to be seen already around town, and not just the clerks but shoppers and a few barflies. (I volunteered to help the last person standing, in front of such a place, but she declined, as she’d only a few more scoops although large to make.) No ice cream scoops.

In Minnesota, just over the river, traffic even on the main roads was at a crawl early in the day of this snow emergency. One professional driver said he only made it seven miles during one particular hour, in the Cottage Grove area.

— By the middle of the next day, virtually all walks and lots were cleared of their snow, although just for a first pass or two. Like comparing main traffic arteries to side streets, where there’d been cars parked, the snow was still present at sideways angles to bumpers. As I finish this typing, just before bar close, I can hear nearby the sound of backing beeps, as plows pushed away what was left. —

Then on the snowday, there was the busiest part of The Hill in Hudson. Some walks were clear by late afternoon, or at least a foot-wide path made on which shoppers could sorta scurry, but other walks were still buried, in what was a drag only a mile from the main drag. The cash registers were not really at full throttle for this time of year, with just a handful of strays taking a break at Buffalo Wild Wings, all at the front bar and none at the dozens of tables, however a filled circular barrail was found at Green Mill, but virtually no one dining by use of table seating. Still, some were snacking at the bar itself, but because of the busyness there even the fast-moving staff was having a bit of trouble keeping up, and in one case a woman who did not get her appetizer brought before the pizza complained and ended up receiving a free drink or two. On the other side of me another woman was telling her companion a long and detailed sad story of losing a battle with a plow, so to speak, and I interrupted the speil by pointing out that on the TV news, they were dealing with such a matter at the moment in St. Paul, to lead off their nightly coverage. “Hey, you could be telling your tale on there!” But it would make for too much time elapsed. She chuckled at my joke, then continued chattering …

Anyway, in this general area the snow was thick, especially if you were walking further westward. The same spot where a drift duster had proceeded along in the previous week but didn’t remove snow underfoot — as also pointed out by my cabbie, and you know it’s one of the three occupations where they know everything going on for miles — this time had crossed the snow and laid it down. Only a fine dusting of fickle flakes remained. (My barber and bartender were not available for comment.) But I was going to patronize another grocer, up the street, and it was the same news, only with thicker tires making their mark where the rim had nearly touched the snowbank. Places existed where plows big and small had pushed the crusty stuff up against a curb about where it made a 90 degree deviation, resulting in a pile of the stuff almost as tall as a person by some corners. They even did it for temporary where-with-all in places where it could be a no-no, like up to fire hydrants, as an example, as hey the snow will melt. (But a few feet away, you might see another sideway still pummeled with icy snow.) That’s where things got treacherous as pedestrians had to either try to hurdle the big snowy mass, or wade through it with two or even three footsteps driven down deep before the crest. I fell three times trying to negotiate such conditions, and once while hoofing it along the icy shoulder instead.

The worst dilemma of these types occurred at the southeast corner of Stageline Road with its relatively light traffic and the behemoth that is Carmichael Road — where there is no good place to push a button for a “walk” arrow. At this intersection and another nearby, for the seldom used route I was taking there was either no button for going a particular direction, or one almost buried with a snowback, especially out front at the point sidewalks criss-cross.

But the worst was still ahead, when heading due south along the west side of Carmichael. A parking lot or two offered for a better journey, but then at a sidestreet the snowbanks remained basically impassable. Thus I fell for the first time. A guy all bundled in a hooded parka was trudging the other direction. I could see his face enough to tell he’s a Mexican. Hey, wading along between two restaurant districts, he might be used to having made walking hard labor. Despite me tumbling in front of him, he was unphased and just smiled a bit, all in a day’s work for him. It was maybe unnecessary for me to tell him I was OK and not hurt by the fall. A white guy, who couldn’t jump either, would be pissing and moaning.

After about 100 feet, I was very tired and decided to try the shouldered edge of the street. When signals sent traffic toward me, I turned to face it and leaned against the snowbank to at least increase the distance between me and the cars to almost three feet. I’d walk, quickly, when the traffic flow ebbed and I could make some headway. Eventually I dared the make brief spurts on the street itself. When I got near the left turn lane, and the plows hadn’t yet paid any more attention with their snow-producing patterns, I felt the safety distance narrow and thought I might be in danger of being struck, so I went back to the deep-snow sidewalk, with the piles getting higher as I approached my destination, near another intersection and increasing because of the greater square footage created by the turn lane.

When I made it back to the main parking area, to do some shopping — thank God I timed it right and did not have to carry significant groceries a bit earlier — and once done my cab was running late, so it was a welcome factor to take turns not in a road, but standing in front of a heater in the store’s entryway, and then ducking out to check if the cab had come yet.

I did several of these short flips, and toward the end a man who apparently was just off his work shift walked up and turned off a switch. Did they turn the heater off!! That would be like killing Kenny. Actually, even though I was in a side entrance that would close in two hours, the switch was on a machine that was the size of a small Cub Cadet garden tractor — and had a broader purpose besides providing heat. After eventually picking up my grocery bags set next to a short street light and climbing in the vehicle that finally arrived, I couldn’t stop telling the cabbie not my whole story, but fixating on trying to find words for a size comparison for that wayward machine! But his wayward machine was the gas tank, which seemed to be needing more gasoline than is reasonable and required a fill right at the moment he was scheduled to pick me up. But pushing the limits of the needle on empty was not an option.

As I was not his last fare. We had to jog back the other direction for a priority ride, that being a disabled man in a wheelchair. I had known him from years ago while writing for the local paper, and remembered doing a story or two about things like him and family being key advocates for disability rights — indeed some of those who were behind the push for having this kind of affordable public transportation. It took him a moment, but the man remembered me also. So I was able to catch up on things because of the fact the ride had caused a slight reshuffling of schedules, turning my head as he needed to be strapped into the back part of the van. I’d not been to the house that was the destination for many years, having done at least one interview there. The trip around and about also gave an opportunity to look at wonderful Christmas lights in more than one neighborhood, on either side of the freeway and up behind the high school, in places where they really deck the halls and more. Some decks were really decked out, one overseen by a lighted cross in the lategoing.

But another key question here is why the streets and crossings are designed as they are, and where they are, for pedestrian accessibility. For instance, there are some major intersections where you cannot by-the-rules cross all four different ways. The planning needed to be retrofitted where too many streets come together at a single place, one of them being a freeway frontage road and ramps, and not the kind helping disabled people enter buildings. It goes back to the era when the failed local greyhound racing track needed traffic accommodations for a foreseen influx of visitors. One wonders what it would be like if the track stayed in business.

By the middle of the next day, virtually all walks and lots were cleared of their snow, although just for a first pass or two. Like comparing main traffic arteries to side streets, where there’d been cars parked, the snow was still present at sideways angles to bumpers. As I finish this typing, just before bar close, I can hear nearby the sound of backing beeps, as plows pushed away what was left.

Near feet of snow? Check. Santa outfits? Check. Holiday prices? Same old, and it’s getting old, with some buys to be found. Not like of old, for any of the three questions.

To start this Christmas Is Coming spree, we talk about snow, mostly in somewhat firm pellets that came down several times this last week or two and was whipped by wind, (not enough to call it an actual blizzard), but also not strong enough to create drifts. Add in some actual flurries today, again in a.m., then quit. The total accumulation of the groupings was not far away from a foot, I would say in centimeters “46 and 2,” (they got much more down in my holiday home of Milwaukee, bogging down my mom’s bird feeder with snow twice as high as its ceiling), those being the numbers of measures used in composing a well-known Tool song. Another half-foot, depending on where in Minnesconsin, is due Tuesday night, with winds almost as brutal as before, with gusts up to 35 mph.

There are some, however, in other places like New Richmond on that end of St. Croix County — to flip the north/south pattern — who say the first winter storm warning proved to be a bust. They’ll be Riding The Storm Out, or wait it out until actual sunshine returns.

— Haven’t hit up the hits at The Empourium for a while, and they are not Some Shitty Cover Band as they by that name are not on until Jan. 10, even though I have known a trio of guys for years who run the circuit, so to speak, with different ways to negotiate the route including a freeway, between there and Ziggy’s Hudson, which is undergoing a transformation. But over eastward in the township, there are two bands with interesting names coming right on up. The Express Band plays this Saturday, (back again), frankly a vacuous name, but check them out to see if they can energize you. Burning Daylight is on next Saturday, and with a handle like that, there have got to be hot licks. The venue has announced a slate of bands through early May, unlike many who are hesitant to do so because of possible band cancellations. There main advertising outside of word of mouth and onsite has been slim and none. —

All this has made shopping difficult, and I’m sure the local dollars spent were down, but not in spades or fists full of dollars. However, it was cold and icy enough that if you dropped that turkey before you got to the car, it would bounce and slide like a bowling ball.

Why, do you need to ask, do so many vary their routines these days when out partying, or also out while working? (Not while working out, as is obvious from the new Claus of that getting even fatter man in his weight-loss-performance contract with fitness coach Rudolph — but still seen out on the town in Hudson in small groups, such as the seven Santas crowded around a single table in the front room of Dick’s Bar on Saturday night, and then closing it down. These men and women were wearing the St. Nick hats that drop across the ear and attract fashion magazines, but may sport the color of not red but …

Orange, of Halloween and all its (Dopey) creature characters, (like that shown for weeks on the scrim in back of the deejay spinning records in New Richmond for diverse karaoke), or the harvest along with its brown, or green, the season of spring, and importantly of renewal? Reminder, gotta revise the incentives in that contract before New Years!

(All in a holiday season where one bar and grill is open on New Year’s Day and late on the eve, but was closed all Thanksgiving, countering usual trends, and another is shelved in an a.m. that was usually a prominent though holiday morn. To wit, regarding Thanksgiving not Christmas decor, until recently, there were yellow gold and red flowers to be seen, alive along with green leaves and stems, on flowers on my building’s patio and around the downtown. My even-though-southernly Milwaukee mother did not have such luck, as in staying power, in her garden even just a bit after the yellow orange of, again, Halloween.)

OK, there also were white Santa headgear, shaded tassel-tops all around while slamming toddies, and sometimes on the trim too. Thick fabric. Thus stocking hats on heads, rather than chimneys with stockings. We won’t get into the fashion etiquette of Santa’s beard, also making it hard for him to drink his beer, since the icy sickles attached didn’t create any shrinkage of its length.

Or, this could be the Grinch. I would bet if I was a betting man, he thus is dancing and prancing around. Maybe at the poker table. Heard Donner and Blitzen play a mean game, betting all the elves could scrounge, thank you Don Henley, on a single one-in-a-million desperate blackjack shot, so they could note save, not prevent, Christmas.

But then Rudolph showed up, with his bright red-light nose, and couldn’t keep a poker face, despite its flush that was straight.

So no word on whether they have succeeded, as what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. Or Turtle Lake. Maybe not.

But you can still play slots at the local pub. Call it Dick’s.

Witnessed while there, to quote the Dire Straits (hereafter referred to as DS) song, as this is going that long a way, when writing, for a gag …

(And not the one in mouth that keeps a rogue reindeer from biting a little kid who ventured onto the roof on Christmas Eve, the teeth bit that kept the child from being leg bit …)

Anyways, here’s some more BS, ripped off from “Industrial Disease” and forged into the jukebox, of the DS band, adapted …

Seven men say their Santa,

Six of them must be wrong.

Get it? Know the reference? Google it.

By the way, the last man, excluded, is on fentanyl, per the jokester Smilin’ Moose doorman who had a smile like the hangman on his long face.

The seven were getting on a party bus, not a sleigh.

Yes, there were female not Mrs. Claus but actual Santas (is that gender bending allowed these days?) all around town, and at Dick’s they were doing a vigorous Santa dance, consisting mostly of hopping up and down like a bunny rabbit, not Rudoph, or a hyped up reindeer trying to rise toward the skies.

I observed them prancing on all sides of a table (OK most sides), women in red stretch leggings — made of fur from arctic lemmings? — to match their hats.

I then saw the first of the ugly Christmas sweaters, shaped like a Christmas Tree, and if you look at the human body, that shape of its branches is in reverse order.

We were not ready for the bigger than usual, but not unprecedented snows, with Minnesota getting an opposing thumbs down inside warm gloves over Wisconsin, having to deal with a fuel oil shortage. This is the most recent time of many, in politics or culture or sports culture, where one of those two states that when wound together comprise Minnesconsin went wayward and dissed the other. At least we didn’t rename the local hockey arena.

Sidewalks all over were snowbound with more than a few inches, as shovelers must have been snowblind, and on one concrete stretch you could see no snow moved but twin tire tracks rolling along. A cabbie with better wheels said he had seen a sweeper churning through, dusting no flakes. It was travelling between two mega-stores, as locally would qualify, full of large-cart-wielding shoppers, most of them unbelievably friendly though toward the end some seemed indifferent and rushed.

In Walmart’s holiday-feast-sponsored display of heavenly could-thus-order-online food delights with tunes too, shown going on at length and very pleasant to interrupt computer streaming of Christmas carols and the like, it focuses as much on decor as on what’s on the table, and there are more salads than Christmas cookies. Maybe a marketing move. The long reel is followed by a tongue-in-cheek late commercial filler that calls for at last silence, as he returns to Mt. Crumpet. Non-Grinchlike gag. Didn’t recall seeing any crumpets in the reel, but plenty of other decidedly attractive dishes, as the camera floats from one in the center to another.

Plucked turkey …

Back on Thanksgiving, as a marker, some prices were up and some down so again, these days you cannot afford to be product specific in your shopping. Foodies can’t be on food stamps.

But turkeys were said to be down a bit per pound in a Trump holiday, we don’t know about other forms of staple meat — although Arby’s had on sale roast beast — and he made the dubious claim that at Walmart, your feed (most) of the family pre-made meal was much lower than under Biden. We’ll have to fact check that one. Still, my organic big holiday turkey was $71 and change, and for the ready-made meals you can look at shelling out a $100 bill, and that’s at a bit under the benchmark price, which ranges up to $200, and features relatively cheaper kind of meat, weighing in on feeding 4 to 6. So close to $20 a person, with potatoes filling in that sort of gap.

Still, Trump again is random with how he applies things, and he has done some sorta good ones. He chopped a little bit off the fee on a Christmas Tree and cord of firewood, at one dollar apiece, to attempt to back up his claim of a more affordable Christmas, and has taken a handful of other such actions. Still, without rule of law guiding things, tariff considerations rule the day.

We remain wondering just what is the core constituency to which he is catering? He pardoned, God forbid, a Democrat down in Texas — not in Georgia but with a soul to steal — who granted other than alleged bribery did have a more Trump-favorable stance on some border policies, but a Dem?!?

So more …

Leave it to lily white Hudson, which literally also bleeds red that is darker (not brighter) than maroon, to go where not even Chicago and Washington D.C. will tread. (Insert rattlesnake logo.)

Why its rod and gun club, by a vote of the majority of its members, is seeking to fulfill a proposed contract to accept pay that would in turn grant ICE access few have — to their building and land north of town for purposes of being training grounds and a storage facility. The club would get top-dollar as in $4,000-plus rent per month from ICE for its maintenance. But wait, it’s not a done deal yet, there are details to be hammered out, we’re told. Well, if you have been covering local government for as long as I have, you know about how much stock to put in what’s said to be just pending. So ram the rod of your gun up an immigrant’s butt with your club, OK that is simply a metaphor. What is not was the protest outside the Democratic headquarters, to put local ICE on ice.

Meanwhile, KARE-11 is reporting that ICE is present and working in Minneapolis. Really? Hadn’t we all just assumed they already were … Get ’em to shovel snow. Heat-loving immigrants from Mexico might have hesitated.

Since we now have temps so cool, that even cool people in big clunky-for-snowbanks boots still need to run to their vehicles, if they’re in a bit far afield parking lots — like the young woman the other night who left the Smilin’ Moose and rushed to a pickup truck, hurdling drifts, in the big kitty-corner lot across the main drag and run by the city … Now that’s cold.
But fear not, because there are still nightlife options for outdoor seating.
Leading the way is the heated rooftop patio at Mallory’s, located near the north end of the Hudson downtown entertainment district, but not feeling at all like the North Pole. Although very high-up, they keep the temps warm and your beer cold. Chestnuts roasting …

— Arthur Christmas, I think I remember him, is making an early appearance at Hudson Cinema 12 on Saturday, Dec. 6, helping sponsor a free movie event and a free soda and free popcorn there. Movie is at 9:30 a.m. Gates at 9 a.m. Arthur is enabling the event as its featured act, a holiday treat in itself, and Santa will be there too, for what’s billed as a movie with him, but even Rudolph is unavailable for what’s called the lead role. Apparently working on (already) last minute toys to benefit you. But you can also meet the Pepper Fest King circa 2026, as their club is also a sponsor. So Salt ‘n Pepper.

Across town, there is Christmas gift wrapping and treats on Saturday at First Presbyterian Church from 6:10 a.m. to 2 p.m. as a team sets its sights on a February national competition to be held in Orlando, Fla. Donation accepted to support the trip.

So plan to hit both. Santa likely will, the North Pole news service says. —

After going up a decorated series of bending stairs in the middle of the establishment, this space is about as spacious as you can find, for a heated rooftop patio, with the main thrust of it running roughly east-and-west and pointing toward the St. Croix River. Some of it is undercover with huge awning, like the seating at the bar.
There for a few years were a couple of great big sofas on the west end on which to rest while enjoying your drinks. There has been a recent retooling, and another one prior, making for a long stretch of tables lined up for the same length of many a bar-rail, that point toward the border with Minnesota. That’s where the third floor segues into forming a fourth. From these and other high-up vantage points, you can clearly see the clear-frozen St. Croix River and the still-somewhat-present browning leaves on trees on its bluffs, if they be oaks, as well as that entire middle and end of the downtown.
When walking northward through the well-used back alley between Dick’s Bar, which used to have its own such four-season patio open, and the old Bennett’s steakhouse, and Pier 500, you can see its big glowing named sign up above, which still doesn’t diminish the beauty of their riverfront view. The back stairway and its other side showcase strings of bright white lights, on multiple floors that include smaller patios, that make the look appealing for those walking to their cars — although that back stairwell is closed down. A U.S. flag often too, is draped along the awning.
A big placard is often placed on the sidewalk to hawk the rooftop’s heated availability. Mallory’s also often has a footwide white-lighted and circular insignia floating around the walkway out in front, pumping also its speakeasy that’s Down Under. This is opposite the three-stories-upward-at-midpoint floor of their rooftop patio, which features a bar that’s long on length and thus is unlike the speakeasy, which has cozy chairs and a fireplace and is a very intimate setting — the size of which bands say they love to perform at.

Other venues now detailed:

Dick’s Bar

Ziggy’s Hudson

Smilin’ Moose

Pier 500 igloos

Casanova’s and The Nova

Hop ‘n’ Barrel

(RF’s Mel’s Midtowner)

Ember and Bean

Dipsy ice cream

There are many other patios with a fair amount of space held open, keeping the tables and chairs, during the winter, largely so people can have a smoke, or just hang out for a while before the cold makes them again go indoors. Ziggy’s Hudson has this set-up with scores of tables on two levels, but they may or may not offer wait-staff drink and food service there during the winter, a sign from the interior said. At some point later in the season, the staff may pull out some of the furniture, but there will likely be a holdout for this, because the open spaces do not fully face the windy winter elements. There is a similar-sized, square patio on the north side, with a big sports TV, weather permitting and if too cold draped with a flag, and also a back, second-story smoking patio pushed up to close to the bluffline.  
The Smilin’ Moose has long since closed its downstairs and maybe upstairs also, two-level patio out west for the season, also with great views of the river but maybe more of boats than ice shanties, but they do offer a two-foot-wide, five-foot-long heating lamp near the entry door. Even though up above, it’s warm enough that you can feel the heat even when walking past on the broad sidewalk. And a barometer of how cold it is, can be read into the record by if doormen, often checking IDs, are standing outside or in the gathering area. During nights where the customer traffic is hot, when it used to bring in many hundreds, you can be in a loosely formed line for quite a while before being let in, so that lamp is as much your friend as that fave bartender. As such bundled-up doormen at Ziggy’s say, and they typically open the door for you so you don’t have to be chilly before you go inside and chill, they are always cold this time of year, and it’s only going to get worse, but it’s a part of the job — made easier by shuffling their feet back and forth to take their mind off the temps.
Pier 500, as its name suggests, is located on the river, and the side of their huge, two-direction patio that faces it has dozens of boulders cemented together to create ambiance, which can still be enjoyed since they annually offer several big weather-protected enclosures without any gaps for wind. It’s erected around Halloween, made of thick plastic held together with foot-wide triangle bars — and not that big one that was offered elsewhere on the patio for summer drink service — as to resemble big igloos, or those structures saw in an old James Bond thriller set in the arctic. Ice caves are cool.

Speaking of …
Casanova’s Historic Liquors had hawked their theme for a number of years by also offering in back The Nova, an outdoor music patio set back against the bluffline, but they’ve now moved the indoor seating closer to the street, usually with two big picnic tables, two full-size tables and three smaller ones on the wrought-iron-rail enclosed patio outside. In some past years they held it open as a 12-season patio, a cashier said, but later it was there for use by patrons, even if not actively billed as such.

Hop ‘n’ Barrel in some past years had pulled their usual patio gear and added a couple of woodfired and very wide metal-rim barrels, surrounded by four benches, one in each direction, and a couple of end-table-type things that could hold cold beverages while people kept toasty.

(Hint: The long-standing wall separating that patio and the enjoining one at Ziggy’s, a venue about 90 feet to the south, has been taken down, and the parking lot abutting the nearest polar vortex sidestreet to the north side of Hop ‘n’ Barrel, a venue set in the middle, has been renamed as Ziggy’s parking. That fuels the two-month-old rumor on the street that Ziggy’s is expanding as part of its new remodel, and may be taking over at least part of the Hop ‘n’ Barrel building, which has removed its big trademark logo-paintovers for its many craft beers, which were released about every other month, from the large windows that form a semi-circle around the main bar area, way back from when it was a car dealership, then a bank. This highly involved rumor continues that Hop ‘n’ Barrel may be closing in a month or two, at least at its current location, with its huge brewing vats possibly being transferred to another place. Got all that.)

At around the same timetable, at Ziggy’s, the lower stage has as its backdrop, behind where you would place a small drum kit, a flickering fire — not from a fireplace, but a moving photographic display. Outside there were still all winter colorful flowers in patio planters — but I doubt they are real either. However, still flashy.

(Down in River Falls, Mel’s Midtowner has added an outside bar and significant outdoor seating, about four years ago, making it one of the earlier ones, much of it under a bunch of awnings. The main aisle is uncovered. The prime area is kept open as long as feasible into the coming of the dead of winter, ask the waitress in shortsleeve shirt on the front sign. It is a (cold-weather) football referee’s shirt.)  

Bevy of benches …

Downtown Hudson has seen a large growth in the number of park benches in the past few months, with a couple now being taken down for the cold and icy snow, and others shifting location or retooling their specific design style or overall makeup. The latest one, added in the last week, near the south end of the west side of Second Street, is perhaps the first to feature thick, bronze colored metal, making a contrast with the bright red trio of wide benches on the downtown’s north side, and even one beyond that. Wait add another recent, as in the green and brown colored alongside-your-back concoction, set up midway.

Prominent among the growth of benches, with tables, is outside (and at last check still was) Ember and Bean (not Beam) coffee shop near where you can find the bronze one. You can’t make full use of the up-top umbrellas, again wind cited, until spring. It started with one humble two-seater next to the door, but then more benches were gradually added, fueled in part by the addition of the Dipsy ice cream shop 30 feet opposite it last year.

And yes, the ice cream is served up all 12 months. As of last notice; prior to icy snow dump.

(Editor’s note: A half-length version of this post ran in the Hudson Star-Observer last year, by the same author, that being myself.)

Ah. November. The season of holidays. (Religious, secular, family-er, decorative, foodie and commercial/consumer.) Holy, holy, holy. A collection, from the month, not of money. But first …

End of first week: Still up were the mass remnants of Halloween, namely the still-on in yards decked out creatures, in unlikely places based on prosperity, such as villages and towns, but more in the Bright Lights Big City. “Hulloween,” as per a sign, lives on in Hudson, Wuscunsun. Meanwhile, “Chrustmus” trees had already been on sale, even up in front of stores. Boughs in, and in cases there well before, early October? German beer and sauerbraten and brats, weiners or otherwise, fine wine on the Rhine, were weaning down, in the land that created the Christmas tree. More on that below.

End of the second week: First viewing of most Christmas decor done by actual people/customers not Walmart employees in back then put out on the rack, such as the small sports car with a wreath on the top of — of all places — the back window even though it had a roof, not a full-on 4X4 truck, tied me down where it kissed that roof, (been listening to too much Hendrix, as in the above headline, to tie it all down), already all lit up with tiny electric sparkles. Meanwhile, without sales you don’t have such, so a bounty of boutiques and bizarres were hath set and announced, some ongoing. One, to take wreaths and porch pots and run with the idea, is at 2321 Jack Breault Drive, but it doesn’t give a name of the place or venue or even the establishment, saying simply that there is also commercial space for lease, so blatant plug? Over at the seasonally-based sale of the St. Croix County Development government group, prairie plants and compost bins, community oriented, on opposite ends of flora, to be delivered later, are teamed in a sentence in a promotional flyer. Out the window, there are off-white flurries, or are they another Canadian import, that being a few wildfire embers, at a rate of about one speck every ten seconds against a backdrop of two out-by-front-window green pine trees.

End of the third week: Air travel is back to usual routes, such as they are post (back-to-pre?) shutdown, but are all traffic controllers back at their computers/windows? So they can’t use the lavatory, unless it gives them a room with a view? Of these holiday trees?

Relatedly, is politics a holiday? Congressmen do take a vacation. As it is near end-of-year, ‘Tis the season for … economy stats. Labor costs are likely at their highest and increasing. All the more reason to keep cheap immigrant hires. They raise your turkeys, which actually are not as hugely costly as you might think. Depending on which big shot politician — or me — and not the one who actually bagged it with a en-sure shot, sure to make a body drop, you’re talking to. Is this an Ozzy farewell concert promoter plug? Because …

Bird flu outbreaks lingering doesn’t help the grocery prices, which are at their highest, depending again, on the product, (see below for post Black Friday.) So don’t ruffle your feathers, as also pointed out, as our single-year grocery price increases were highest in 2022. (That may still change this year.) Riding the wave of the pandemic, which soon later was largely curbed, and also swelling due to other world war pig factors, such as the “conflict” in Ukraine. (We are now, like it or not, isolationist or not, a global economy.)

The food prices in one 12-month period rose 11.4 percent in 2022, but saw some relief late in Biden’s term. There was steady, continued rise under Trump. so a takeaway, they’re likely at an all-time high for our country right now, even when adjusted for inflation.

That statement requires some context. First, in earlier times, many or most people lived on farms, so even if they were in poverty, there usually was a ready food supply as close as the barn or the fields.

Also, the annual goal for where to set inflation (by The Fed) was, or currently is set, at 2.0 percent. (It can chnage overnight.) The latest figure under Trump is 2.7 percent. Bah humbug!

End of the fourth week: Inflatables inflate to a new level, all over, with the biggest Santa to be seen (full human size), showing a far-bigger-than-snowman-as-in-a-carrot nose. Grinch-like? No, Scrooge. But only a few reindeer seen. It’s early in the season.

In the game between The Eagles and The Bears — I think a tie so it became The Beareagles — there was a player by the name of either gobble or gander, I forget which one. Either way, take a gander.

Meanwhile, Lights are up in this Bright Lights Big City, to again milk a joke, both next to the freeway for passersby, and all though Lakefront Park, again for passersby. My neighbor lady was set to go out for a walk with her dog, to tinkle while they twinkle.  

Is that guy who said famously, via bumper stickers on His truck that is always parked Out In Front Of The Building: Trump, Make America Great Again, (T-MAGA) or maybe redacted to Bring It Back Again (BIBA), not (Nib) just settled in his bed inside, embarrassed, like before the Ghost of Christmases Past and Present?

Coulda been like the guy, not Santa, on Drunksgiving who was plopped outside the Smilin’ Moose in a stupor, back slid against the wall and legs across much of the sidewalk, and after (shots) and a couple of minutes of coaxing, rose again. The weather was ice cold, but don’t worry it was to no avail for Mother Nature, as people out in not too much more than thongs were out in throngs — unlike the balmy weather of the Earlier In November Light Up Night and semi-accompanying bar crawl — which also drew throngs, including a couple of guys who looked just like the sirs the cover of the Mr. Monopoly gameboard.

Bonus coverage, new feature, first two days of December:

Went on a bar crawl, real one, and tried to cross the four-lane street where you’re not supposed to — no lights but there were street stripes — and got a branch stuck in my eye (no not needle) just before my head veered an inch or two, and don’t worry city officials and council and attorney, (the only one that matters), I’m not going to sue you.

I saw, on ice, not On ICE, a whole gaggle of robins (a partridge in a pear tree?) all strutting about, just alongside — a sheet or two or three of ice. Last worm-gobbling stop before more migration.

If you are trying to beat holiday prices, the latest grocery store flyer received, touted things like potatoes and cranberries — which in bags as opposed to cans are both $2.49 and good luck if you just want to buy a few single berries or buy by the ounce, or by the pound — not the beef that is at its highest in the history of our grand land, and that goes back to pilgrim times.

So that is my collected loosely — like my post-holiday and questionable-turkey and gravy-induced stool, nevermind — grab bag, like stuffing mix.

Don’t be like the last four stories. Happy holidays!

This Thanksgiving, why not avail all of yours with ample amounts at authentic Azul Tequila? That being their real Mexican food as well as various celebratory stuff like drinks, including low-costing Mexican beer and margaritas. (After all, here at HudsonWiNightlife, we’re all about finding alternative ways to celebrate your feast and fest day with the whole family. Hey, we’ve done it before, priming your pump and plate with ideas on earlier holidays.)

The Azul Tequila portions are plentiful and make good use of seasonings and ingredients, and the main ones number as high as 11 or more (15 in one case, and it’s stated below) different kinds in some of their items. And there are 25 or more main ingredients across all of their various entrees. Azul Tequila also has a festive atmosphere and real Mexican music being played, in their elaborate bordering on ornate decorative establishment, (you gotta come in and see, and stroll under, the cool off-white, big Roman-style arches), and hearty supplies of all the right kinds of Mexican spiced-just-perfectly bean and rice combos, and the meats and cheeses and savory veggies, too, as this is the time of Thanksgiving. And check their SaveOn coupon for money off.

— The Dweebs are back in even full(er) force, as their new profile picture shows a force that apparently has swelled to a dozen-or-so dainty ditty doers, of both sexes, some of them younger people, and almost half of them wearing assorted forms of wierd hats to go with just as strange shirts. But the varied-genre musicianship of this decades-long band is still top notch. They’ll fill a gap in the four-day holiday weekend on Friday, Nov. 28, at 8 p.m. at the Gaslite Bar and Grill near Ellsworth, in a recurring gig that generally brings them to this place about twice a year.

I think I’m turning Japanese for Xmas, I really think so. Basically Bonsai, as most of what you found right before Thanksgiving in front or retail stores were needled trees a foot and maybe a bit higher found. (At WalMart, there has been for a week or more a big tarp that says “live trees coming.” Really. Despite apparent supply shortages.) Some in pots, so a couple of inches taller. (Especially as you inch your holiday way south toward Azul Tequila, for example.) You could see some medium-size trees at one place, mostly picked through, and birch Yule logs and decked out wreaths. I did see the first trolling out there of a Tom and Jerry mix special. —

Back to the bakers of burritos, their specialities that come fully vetted, and more. Take for example the Volcano special of grilled sirloin steak, grilled chicken breast, grilled shrimp, chorizo, fried jalapenos, fried green onions and grilled cactus with your choice of red or green sauce, all served in a volcano rock and smothered with Chihuahua cheese. Served with rice, beans, lettuce, guacamole and tortillas.

Or another specialty, a made-right-at-the-moment (bold claim) with fresh avocado, red onions, tomatoes, cilantro, salt, garlic and lime juice, entree of Mexican chorizo sausage topped with melted Chihuahua cheese. Stuffed with chicken, spinach, black beans, corn and peppers, served with chipotle ranch sauce.

And the food’s not too hot, just the right temp, because the older dads that this holiday caters to would want it that way. And the lengthy well-built menu gives him and others plenty of choices, so even people who aren’t into Mexican food are sure to find something they will enjoy. Some of the quick hits, such as the Speedy Gonzalez especially, are suited for kids on Thanksgiving, and there is a kid’s menu with seven choices.

Presentation is a specialty, with things such as tortilla chips arranged in the round to compliment a full plate of food. Duly noted is that there are many different ways to appreciate a burrito (10 different varieties) or birria. Some ala carte items and salads are less than $10, in some cases much less. Some forms of tacos go for $3.99 each if ordered singly.

Fajitas are served in either single or double size, and there are also hot sandwiches and desserts, beyond just the fried ice cream and churra, as well as a bar specializing in beers and margaritas.

They have more than one location in moderately sized western Wisconsin cities, namely Hudson, New Richmond and Eau Claire, and a roaming food truck then is parked for providing service, as that tends to be the thing these days, in places such as River Falls.

This downtown Minneapolis outing found that out there in the big city was not only our comedy arena, filled with many hundreds, but across an alley where kids shot baskets near one end was an extravaganza that was even bigger in scope.

That entailed a comedy show I just attended — with a Prince tribute Broadway-style production and all it encompassed going on next door — so we all can laugh, and sing. And despite all the throngs, at our spoken word performance by Sarah Millican, most although not all the people, depending on where they were sitting, could hear all the silly words, as this was not sullen deathcore.

— An idea for Thanksgiving/Christmas, even if it’s a Joe Food “recipe,” if you reconsider your original plan and want to make and bring this version of something easy. This way, you can add it for a cheap holiday treat, so try it and what you would change or replace.

Purchase a can of both jellied and whole-berry cranberries, as you might need to buy both to get the advertised deal, and put them on opposite sides of a medium-sized dish, preferably oval. At the point where they touch, place a few halved orange slices or better yet mandarin oranges. Consider sprinkling all over the top both the juice from the unused segments, several broken pieces of pecan or walnut, and bits of apple, either red or green, or both, (eat the unused slices later yourself, or to treat yourself), these the Christmas colors, will work. Put whole slices of the fruit, either kind, or another kind, at each end of the dish. Add a bit of brown sugar/cinnamon? Ta da. Twiddle dum. —

Finding parking was an adventure, even though my partner in crime if the humor she recommended was bad, had called the night before and bought a stall. (Yes, those type of jokes would follow soon.) But finding that slot did not come complete with instructions. So there was a meager meltdown before we made our way to laughing along with the menagerie of slightly malicious jokes, in a good way.

We found our way out of the parking ramp — what are we rubes? — and the door handle to get the hell out was slightly tougher. But still, we had a couple of hours before showtime. Soon, the line singlefile with no one trying to edge past the one in front of them was a couple of blocks long, as concertgoers were more than happy to hum tunes of sugerplums and have them dance in their heads.

We passed by those bad — theme word here — three-point shooters, and felt not any urban-based fear on the part of us suburban types. Wanted to say to one, hey, good shot man.

Now to find an open bar. We ambled across the main drag, such as it was, looking for a place to sit, and encountered a club, but we were told it was basically by invitation only. Around the corner and down was a bus booth with more “urban” types, which we had no problem with, but the only seats that were to be squeezed into were too tight for comfort.

So back across that main street we went, and — soon? — ambled into the main hall, and immediately encountered that I’m sure acclaimed Prince show of shows. I say so because there were literally hundreds of photos/big blown-up newspaper article reprints of him, but not all of them fawning. From metro papers, mostly, over and over from the same ones as reviews live on and on with their replication. (I do say, wondered for a moment if anything I’ve written about The Purple One was in the mix, but nix, unless back in a far corner, where you could again not find an open bar.)

That was a Symbol, but wait, there was one as part of a restaurant, and the bartender was totally cool. She looked very young but still was a veteran of the bar wars, like is often a truism, and we compared notes about working in the downtown of Minneapolis versus the downtown of smaller-scale Hudson.

The big act …

So finally now, it was off to the main show. We were able to weave through the many people, and find our seats pretty easily. There was a big build, like at a rock concert, then a “man” came rushing out, and wait a minute, introduced the head comic and did not feel threatened. I must say I enjoyed his take on comedy even a bit more than hers.

Then she came on, to massive cheers. Her gags were very baudy and even a little vulgar, like possibly only a woman could get away with, and funny though you can only twist a vagina reference so many different ways. She carried on and on with great stamina — like a porn star who just doesn’t stop banging away — in a very long show, which even needed an intermission. So this admittedly pricey show still gave you your money’s worth. Interestingly, she mentioned only quite late in the show that she is married, and didn’t bring her hubby into the mix of the jokes. But the “physical” comedy did come into play.

There were occasional loud exclamations from the crowd, often just a single word shouted — and not vagina — and the woman who was the most vocal piped down during the second set.

What I found most impressive was late in the show, when most people would be tiring, Millican would ask for someone to again, shout out the most unusual thing in their purse, and she’d ad lib for a minute or two, on the spot. Taking a take on the game show or comedy shop theme of the same name, or if not maybe should have been. Or at least that’s my takeaway. 

The most unusual thing exclaimed, I thought: “Umbrella!” From she who sat next to me. Take that one and run with it, to ward off, to use a phrase, Purple Rain. Stuff from (such colored?) dresses were referenced, bending the rules.

One rule that was broken, even if it’s just where we were sitting, underneath a big Ballroom Blitz-type circle of ceramic tile in this vintage theater, about 40 feet wide: The acoustics were bad and it was hard to understand some of the punch lines. But the show still was good enough to keep anyone from wanting to punch somebody out. This is not a mosh pit.

On the long way out, with longer lines then when we had come, a main gag was revisited. One of the centerpieces, dwelt on for about ten minutes, was which are you ladies, someone who is sitting on the sidelines of sex when growing up, or one going for it. Each approach was summarized with a buzz word or two, printed on a button for your lapel — which could have been one of those things shouted out in the purse gag.

As one of the doors was jammed with people — I swear I recognized a couple — an usher handed out more such buttons to the decidedly older crowd. Bring one home for your hubby?