Prince fans at the drug store weren’t in any sense looking to become Zombies:
— Prince fans who last year were going over to the first-of-its-kind Vigil at Paisley Park — the kind that soon would become a regular ritual there — ended up making a detour to, of all the far-flunge places, a Hudson drug store. Yes, we know what you are likely thinking, all they were interested in purchasing were a few snacks, then getting in their bright car to make a run past the border. The story of their odd sidetrip came to the fore again in local conversation when law enforcement authorities made an official announcement about whether any drug provider would be prosecuted — for anything other than bad choices of sugery candy.
— The Bad Wolves group on the jukebox lately, with their version of the fittingly named Zombie, first done by The Cranberries, also brought something back to the fore, again bad news. Let me explain. A friend of mine has noted, spookilly, that in his occasional concert-going days, two of the last acts he saw live have experienced recent deaths of band members.
— Think spring and the cars that come out for it on the boulevard, and not even after your usual $10 off an oil change. I can think of five overly bright, neon colored cars, that I’m assuming are vamped up that way to garner attention, colored gold, (yeah), lime green, yellow lemon, purple and all-out pink (do we see a trend in color here?) But the cars were small in size (maybe we should compare them to what’s holding the steering wheel to drive them). Also seen was the three-wheeled cycle much like a low rider, and a car late night at Freedom Value Center that was no higher with its top up than the proverbial local band 4 foot 8. These short in stature cars and cycles are in a better place to negotiate the rather low railroad bridge from North Hudson leading into Hudson, the subject of the signs that have been erected as far away as the towntown as having a 13-foot, 11-inch clearance (I guess just an inch makes all the difference. Or he said).
— To go in or not to go in. That was my quandry about the negotiating the small breezeway at Buffalo Wild Wings. The hostess, as usual quite attentive, asked where I would like to be seated. I said I was just checking a few things first, if a friend of mine was there, if there was room at the bar, and perhaps most important, if the home team was winning and shown as such on multiple TVs. None of these applied, so strike three, and I apologized before choosing a have a beer that night. Turns out, she said, this decision-making quandry is not unusual before people step inside: “You’re just fine. No worries.” As so many servers — formerly — have wrapped up their phrase, in being like an Aussie. But these days the salutation upon finishing your order has become a simple word “perfect.”
— Bed and breakfast proprietor Brooke Fleetwood had more notoriety than just being the owner of a totally bright pink house. Her namesake, Fleetwood Mac, will be playing live in the Twin Cities soon. Also, she found herself on the cover of a regional magazine, and it was not just her Little Pink House (OK maybe not as small as in the song title) on profile.