Yet another place is giving it a go, at another of those few places here and there in the Hudson downtown, evenly spaced apart, where they have trouble making the place stay open for very long. Maybe just a few months, or years at best. So cheers to the idea that this new one will be around for a while longer, as it has a different format than its predecessors.
There is just-opened, as announced with big painted letters all over its door and windows, a breakfast cafe a couple of doors down from Dunn Brothers coffee, getting going even earlier at 7 a.m. The previous owner had a compelling back-story to his business, selling Italian food, with their take on some of the classic tales we’ve grown to love, that were spelled out in a full-page article pasted next to his door, of having a number of family members come from the old country and work through much hardship, even when here, but learn cuisine along the way. The prior restaurant there was much like it, after a big redesign of the typically seen long but not wide building, called Little Italy with fittingly themed food and drinks, and was on-and-off-again affiliated with Agave Kitchen/Bullpen Cantina at the other end of the block. Yet another Italian restaurant will soon open in North Hudson, where that ethnicity is everything, in the big classically built-for-that-purpose building that had for years housed Mama Maria’s, which was also at a neighboring location a couple of decades back, and then was known as Mama Mia’s before there was a copyright strike.

This is called the best day of the year. So hailed in Wisconsin. And it is today.
You can get, through midnight if you know where to go, free beer on this often alcohol-free Sunday, historically, that being April 7. Because it is, ring the cymbals and plunk the tamborines and wail and hail the trumpets — Jericho will get you for that — National Beer Day!
So on this day only, the Convenience Store That Says Wisconsin, Kwik Trip, will give you a free can of certain assorted and just maybe rather sorid brews; Milwaukee is not prominently produced in the cad’s ad copy. There may be certain contingencies on this freebie offer — but not a full credit check, and only producing ID — but if all you want is a slight and free buzz … Then tastes just great.
But you only have about another hour before 9 p.m. offsale cutoff, so hurry. (But wait a minute, this is Kwik Trip, so depending on jurisdiction you will likely have until 12.
The deal of the day was announced to online important people, OIP for short, in their rewards club, at I think it was 6:57 p.m. yesterday — so do your Kwik Trip travel plan ahead — hitting my inbox as I am indeed a product of the Badger State.
This extravanganza rides on the coattails, or stumbles and steps on them, for the National Road Map Day. So if making that last-minute, close-to-last-call trek from the Twin Cities to Wisconsin for a freebie beer … Paper maps may be more reliable than GPS, and steer you needlessly far further into the state.
A last point that I am selling. A Man In A Prominent Position said about a month ago that he was already putting his snowmobile into well-paid-for storage for the season, tempting fate and/or bad karma. Let it rain on him …

Another set of bad jokes, in three parts, for the Easter Triudium …
Went to go see the doctor for the first time in years, for what is supposed to be my annual checkup but they had raised the premium like raising the dead (related?), to monitor my cholesterol prior to holiday feasting. So I sat down with the doc: “So, what brings you in today?”
“My 2005 Ford Fiesta, now that its running.”
But hey, as long as I’d gone this far across town, thought I should stop in at church for a change, too. Rev. Green was glad to see ya. “So Joe, happy to see you, it’s been awhile since you’ve come.”
“Yeah, I got the old Ford up and running.”
“Well maybe now that you’re changing it up, and changing your ways, maybe see you at Easter too.”
“I don’t know. Easter is early this year. And it’s Leap Year, which only happens once every four. Does that mean we’re in an off year, and Easter will not be held this time around? Guess we’ll have to wait until next year. Damn the luck. Oh, sorry reverend. Twice …”

The name of the latest Irish woman, after Sinead O’Connor, to make it big in pop music is Billie Eilish Pirate Baird O’Connell, (real as given to the bard.) What follows is an extended very bad joke of mine, on long names, that really flopped well before finishing, but that’s when I’d accidentally hit the save button!! This was meant to be a lengthy lead-in to the five-letter-long names of so many recent presidents, that is still coming — Vivek but not Baird yet — but they may have flopped too.
Just how bad is the humor attempt??

It helps to know the names of people, if not rivers and other places, far and near. The Irish-I-believe person living behind the green door of a downtown apartment, and with a big and cardboard, rounded-green-figure plastered onto it, said his parents are in one case Irish and German, and the other Norwegian and Danish. (If you take the latter ethnicity in both sets, you wonder if they needed to use a safe word — sorry — just don’t make it like the first choices listed in the paragraph below, as they might be botched like in the movie Eurotrip.) But his name, first and last, is a good ethnic-based choice for (March or even April), so (party on or carry on) Mr. Irish instilled, as all are five-letter nouns or verbs.
I think his real names — I know not which one to cite, since either to differing degrees, might be too long to fit onto his door’s nameplate, and the green leprechaun further down was also unaccommodating — is Abercromrubadub Ecstabalski. OK that’s more eastern European and/or African), so its more likely Smythe McSlay. Forego these added six-letter words, and take them each a letter down, so they could become like Smith and Jones, and then if we have one more letter removed, we could have two more Irishmen — but not Two Gingers — and its configured like both actual names of my man in question. And its not Bill. Could be a lass. Like Elle. But not two lasses.
Maybe take that act, when made bluesey, down in Sweet Home Chicago, and the city by that name has the main river flow backwards, done for that in 1900 by its engineers to keep industrial waste out of Lake Michigan, and those waters are also colored green every St. Patrick’s Day, like the tint given by dye to the big stream in Boston, one of the first places to accept in the Irish. And this is not from algae.
Is this where they got the term backwaters, and we do have some on The St. Croix, largely near the confluence with the Mississippi. “In Chicago, but my head’s in Mississippi.” Sung by That Little Ol’ Band From Texas. Where it will be warm on St. Patrick’s Day.
The temps for you, here, should be in the range of those on what was erroneously called the coldest day of the year, so becoming from 45 as a high, down to the typically seen norm of 25.

My neighbor friend Lola, in the late-going, was given a small bag of hot chips from, fittingly, a school-group-that-is-closely-affiliated-with — what else — The Hot Air Affair, as an adjunct. And she makes it well known that unlike the Barry Manilow song, she is not a showgirl, but this last weekend ours was the hottest spot north of Hudammond — “music and passion are always the fashion” — to merge a couple of burgs, as balloons travel usually to the east.

Hath thou there more cowbell? These and other items such as blue and white promo pompoms (and minus the red and more on that later) were given away outside San Pedro Cafe on the Saturday, (a flying theme of Pirates of the Carribean, to reference their food style?), when all as one were giving out such stuff outside, and I waited to see if there was a repeat once Sunday came and a balloon launch indeed went up.
My mom on the phone a bit ago chimed in on the volume considerations. Her phone bar alongside her cell was askew, and she could not hear me speak. Me as also non-techno (a term I have now invented?) tried to school and instruct her, but I could not raise the bar, on her end.
So, Laura of the Fosters greeted me when I was still a half-block away, and gave me a bright dark blue cowbell. I accepted, and as I walked down further, shook it at length, in a way some found just a bit annoying — some still smiled back at me in a manner that was more or less tinged with their lips, and brief or moderate in length — and with others it brought hearty laughter.
So Jeff Loven lives, even aside from his most recent area performance that was a substitute for his typical past Dick’s Bar and Grill gig on Sundays, this time being last weekend in New Richmond, as per his trademark call-up-a-hottie (as in HHAA sipping?) schtick, I coulda used more cowbell, and thus persuade her to clack on it all the more. Fitting, since I saw a duded up like Will Ferrell costumed dude earlier in the day.

Yup they went up in the a.m. The Sunday balloon launch that is. At 7:35, and I’m sure this number was chosen to reflect The Affair’s 35th year in business, and it couldn’t have been picked to be 6:35 a.m., for obvious dark reasons. Moonglow vs. field of fire the night before had been at pilot’s discretion, for they know which way the wind blows. And do your sippin’ ahead of time, as alcohol was not allowed at the launch site, so forget Fireball. And the prohibitions listed online now also include no drones, as they might interfere with the flights path(s). Thus plunk some of those many “penguin” mascots — oh wait, they are flightless, so this instead would be them “pelicans” that sometimes frequent our rivers. Moreover, watch out for any dressed-up-to-the-hilt “pirates” that fly rather than sail. Sometimes the best-dressed for The Affair include those.

The word of the weekend’s nights was “loud,” as in “live and loud,” with music, but that is three words, if not five. But by Saturday night the conversation volume at least, had toned down, as people had gotten their verbal barrages out the night before and were now hunkering down a little more, like balloons settling in for a landing. There had been a young man who walked down a steep hill to rejoin a mate and then singulary shouted, for reasons unknown, “help,” then “help” again. Maybe his balloon and burner had stalled.

When stepping outside my apartment building, a crew of partiers, I’m assuming, ventured around the corner and one, a large man said to me, “I bet that guy would take a couple hundred bucks to give us a ride.” I said that hey, I’d do it for a five spot. Or should I make it fifty? Or see our guy who does such things regularly, for a lot less — and I swear I later saw him at another corner, outside San Pedro of all places, wearing a Sigler-like black cowboy hat with big rims and talking with the same bit of twang. And maybe I’d add to the cart my favorite drink, as I continued, since after all this was Sippin’ With The Hotties weekend, and should we all meander downtown? (In my great taste haste, I said zipping, as I was going to try to squeeze in a reference to my website coverage.) The man in particular, kept on walking at a pace that was brisk for the subject matter, though he right away turned his head at a right angle and smiled broadly. Like a few of the neighbors at my building, who earlier had been watching the torchlight parade from various patio vantage points, one of them stating in response to my question that the balloon burners — and accompanying kazoos as this is very much a music-themed Affair — would soon be entering the street from a large parking lot juncture just to the south. However, this veritable veteran of the venue added, it is really only an exitway, and exceptions are made for special holiday occasions.

Hey ballooning junkies, you sorta might have to settle for a field of fire at the EP Rock field tonight at 6:30. Still fans, its fantabulous flaming fun.
Ouch, the balloons did not go up today, as in Saturday. When I awoke, I swore I could hear the occasional wind gust of more than 10 mph, but it could have been extra street traffic from all the extra people in town. (They could still possibly mosh to a full Moonglow at seven-ish.)
So maybe we go for a Sunday launch at 7:35 a.m. Word has it the wind will be in the acceptable range of 3 mph to 5 mph — I decided to not use the hyphen for clarity sake, as 35 mph would be a real ouch. Rain has held off, as the sun still shows right now, so nothing to contribute to more St. Croix River ice, which is something its dunkers did not have to fight earlier in the day. The only fighting is for the moved and reformed park bench outside of Dunn Brothers, to accommodate All The People, for any donut specials. Prized by even Potential Polar Lakeside Power Ploppers. Who ride Polaris? Or love puns?

The bench is the benchmark. One of the three outside of Dunn Brothers, parallel to the side street in the downtown, was repositioned about 30 feet closer so right by the main drag, at the point where the newly built bump-out now holds sway, so people could better see the many sights this weekend has to offer while they sit by the sidewalk. It remains in place up to this moment, being used by people who are passers-by and more, when they rest from their gonzo shopping experience that is this weekend.
Set where the bench used to be sitting is a street-closed barrier made of sliced wood, patched together, left over from the night before when traffic was steered asunder so balloons could launch their burners, so to speak, in the torchlight parade. And outside of a favorite night haunt, Hot Air Affair patrons that were even walking, are politely steered away from a striped no-parking zone by a plastic cone with a similar-colored look, just in case they had sipped a few too many in the weekend’s contest and showed a need to be reigned in …

Checking out the weather charts to see if it’s safe outside, and inside, don’t rain on the (yesterday night) parade, as the HHAA plays on. And while you’re at it, along the boulevard bestowed in a post below, and just a few feet away as you will see, check out and also such an endeavor, the Love On Locust Street prime promotion, with many serious specials to offer with Valentine’s Day coming up sooner than you think. There are close to a dozen businesses of a variety of types that have teamed up to play, going-on in such a way until V-Day, and they are all within a long block! Within a stone’s throw of each other, like a bunch of the 40-plus balloons going up much-together that have their related envelopes (the official term) so close they’re almost like (safety factor invoked) rubbing up against each other prior to launch. Like that in an hour for the (weather related) afternoon highlight of The Affair.

The signs on stilts are up and down the blazing main boulevard, which was burgeoning with foot traffic, sure to help the Masonic Lodge and its akin breakfast offering one block eastward, even though it was now brunch time. Their placard was ablaze with orange and yellow and red, and maybe even purple, as the Hot Air Affair continues to burn.

It is right now, officially, a full 32 degrees, and holding, so continue to Sip With The Hotties, as if you needed more warmth. But unrelated, directly, to The Affair, but building off of it barely across the border at The Bungalow, is a mid-afternoon chili cook-off. So you can still taste at it. Heat Up The Balloon Irons!

I’d think that John Madden would be even more excited than usual about my playbook for doing an audible on three-fowl Turducken and making it a five-meat entree, (see home page), like the centerpiece(s) of Thanksgiving meal grandma used to make. So methinks it could allow Madden, the longtime coach of the Silver and Black Raiders, to renew his popularity by another 40 percent, thus besting either Parton or Jordan, the first by ruling a halftime celebration in her blue-and-white Cowboy cheerleading outfit, and the last by putting together enough first downs for the green-and-gold to score 20 points by the end of the first quarter — and it could have been even two-score more, one of those being a missed extra point, to go up further on the lackluster Lions. Someone will be lionized here.

The news spread across Packerland, with headlines like The Future May Be now, and having someone put up a yard decoration of a small Green Bayer next to his huge inflatable gray Cowboy helmet, as these types tend to have big heads. This seen on Black Friday, in advance of Cyber Monday, with stores that sell these and other items already making it known they are extending their Black Friday specials through December. Between that and Cyber Monday, even if you are still heading back home after the holidays, and the number of flights may be unlike any other on record, you still can buy, buy, baby.

What goes around keeps comin’ round and comin’ round, baby right round. So this is an oldie but goodie that, if you have not read it yet, is still appropo with its fairly regular music auditions that continue until the land of ice and snow truly becomes such, with Frozen Tundra hosting its halftime shows. See below how you can march on in and join up and play.

So it is, or could be, with El Paso Days, near River Falls for you Twin Citians. Via my cabbie/musician. (There seem to be a lot of them out there.) And I REALLY hope they all can flow with an extended joke.

He was a possibly founding member of the marching band in that little burg. El Paso as in Wisconsin, not the rapidly growing RF. It at one time boasted a full and quite impressive 75-or-so strut members, but in these days of often poopy pop (so popular to rake on it) is now looking at adding Replacements, to keep their music alive. That number of blowers and more on such instruments is said by a bad joke census to be a possible 27 percent of townies, as the exact population may come and go in a very small town. But give they and theirs credit, these numbers are pretty spectacular. Like those these burgs see on their ballfields. Selling burgers too, when not in the bullpen.

How tied to my theme of being obscure with dates, and El Paso Days? Where the band has headlined in the parade and such for decades, I’m assuming it is. The fest was in mid-August, and since then there have been and maybe will be open auditions each weekend until the snow flies, as even with this being Wisconsin, they need to sign (to their new record label?) another rythme tuba player and backup bass bassoon. OK I made up that whole last sentence. But this much is true, the band will live and march on.

Oh it does indeed need some added players. So if you’re interested, take the New Richmond taxi until you come across by cabbie buddy.

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Today (that being Sunday still in Central Standard Time for you readers everywhere, as sis would want to know), is National Sisters Day (maybe international too). Sis just brought over a great big freezer she bought for a song, or a Fifty, (as she is an aspiring singer, country mind you?), and a whole bunch of bagged frozen turkey meatballs and such ground sausage packages, at least eight, which is enough, (OK she’s really the neighbor lady). Got to reward her by making her a meal when I have time. But until then, how else to celebrate it, in a nightlife way much like going out to the ballpark??

Combine it with, if you missed it last month, National Cousins Day, as co-sponsored as a Hallmark-type holiday by my local Kwik Trip(s) — there is at least two in every even small town in my home state of Wisconsin — convenience store and Megabus. Kwik Trip would have you buy at a great discount, there sandwiches and not Cousins brand subs. And Megabus? Hey, you could visit all your cousins in all 50 states and maybe even Puerto Rico , depending in part on your ethnicity, and if you are a true and card-carrying, even if its fake, redneck. And you have all summer to do it, and you may need it.

And to invoke more meat, also in the Badger State especially, although not limited to, it was National Hot Dog Day. Wisconsin extended the holiday to include brats, maybe at the rate of usage of 60/40. On (most) weekends such as this one in my home of Hudson in the ascribed state, you could have some at the waaay back end of the parking lot  of Menards, also so typical of Badgerland, in a food stand such as those of all the ol’ county fairs and the old County Stadium. But wait, that last stand is Mexican, not German, so nevermind … But there is that very popular Milwaukee Burger place a few blocks north, as the crow flies. It was said when first opening that Hudson could not support yet another burger joint, even of this quality, but in this state …

 

If you wanted to be out and about, yet another power outage would bite you, with sirens blaring during and later-on but unable to quell the wind and rain — as those-who-are-allowed-by-law to-drive-fast were doing community service, not being out to arrest you. But these days …

The outage itself hit via brief storm about 3 p.m. and only lasted to, give and take depending on your municipality and some got hit harder than others, around 7 p.m. (I find it fascinating that this is the exact go-onstage-to-do-encore timing of a Sunday band at UFO Days, a point belabored in posts I wrote lower down). But that still meant that not only the many retail shops downtown for things like antiques and boutiques, but even the nightclubs, called it a night. After all, this was a Monday night when it at times barely pays to keep the lights on, but if you were on that late night — weekend more typical — party bus or limo and this is not a stretch …

The signs were interestingly presumptive, saying see you tomorrow — as that could be Kwik Trip and they are famously open with that greeting 24/7 — whether that be 11 a.m. or 2:30 p.m. (note the parallel to bar time). But the bars had made the decision to close well before sundown that Fortnight and thusly well before the power, for even things such as gaming, came back on, with signs saying it in various ways. But are they safe in assuming the lights will be back on, come time to do food prep or drink mixing and maybe even DJ sound mixing, come Tuesday? Or will it be gone with the wind?

The first closer sign I saw on a walk, just Three Doors Down, was at Art Doyle’s Spokes and Pedals just prior to the supper hour. Huh, I thought, you don’t always see that in the name of customer service, but these days … I was soon to see there would be more such announcements, almost the norm among businesses in Old School Hudson, although often scrawled  in quasi-poor-penmanship on a less than full sheet of paper, as computers were down too. Can’t ring somebody up, even as a cashier, as the keys to hit had succumbed to our more-and-more newfangled need for electricity. And if you wanted to go to the bank, they could maybe give you a few bucks on the fly in straight cash — and with such “immediacy banking” in numerous ways there is often is dollar limit, even under sunny skies — but there could be folly when it comes to generating a receipt.

At the drug store next-door, where they can usually flow with almost anything, there was smaller-scale than Valium brief gnashing of teeth about such hamperedness, but at least (a generator?) meant there was AC to cool workers and the heatening-since-they-can’t-do-as-much-with-much-less cash registers.

But back to the bars, few of which stayed open in town even during what would normally be Happy Hour — After Midnight can be a closure bringer for some on weekdays — so bringing sadness to deal shoppers. Depends on the venue and how they look at the clock’s timing when opening. The exception, as a place that prides itself on always being open, for many decades running now, the newly popular on various days and weather, Dick’s bar and grill. Bartender Chad said North Hudson, maybe even in my old neighborhood, got slammed, and I retorted all I’d seen My Way was a tree down, split in thirds, so it prompted major limb-droppage across a street and its in-between parking spaces.

The other that on most nights would be a token ‘tender, had to tell a patron that because of peristant power concerns there was only one beer (dispensing) option available, come cans and bottles and tap, but we won’t venture into kegs territory. No problem, as the Last Tall Boy Standing was a might cheaper anyway.

One thing that stayed with its standing was a door jam, separating my apartment building into sections, and it was on apparent lockdown because of emergency power concerns. No matter how you would twist the nob, a no go. The electricity came back on at the very moment when I thought that — if it was opening again — I’d need to pry it open further with whatever was in my hand. A notebook would not cut it.

One of the places that closed for the night was Agave Kitchen. Fave bartender Allison said it was SOOO great to have a night-off, as she has been known for working doubles. Corner of the basement, if storm required, bottle of wine … And since she had to be up in the morning, make it just a few sips of the Chardonnay and then turn in early??

 

 

Bang your head. Mental health will drive you mad! (Or so too might be, if you read this post too often.) Or so sung Quiet Riot and also locally, that evil jester.

Yes, back when open mic was A Thing, and not just acoustic, (more on such current options later), I rocked out with that song at the Old Dibbo’s Iconic Rock Club. The house band was a bunch of yes, mad clowns and more, and my duet was done to that ’80s banger with a twisted jester who was dressed in an amped-up way with long fake cloth locks ending with Bo Jangles, befitting the part.

So just how much mental health to actually go around? That was circa 2000 or so, but some things never change, so here goes a wayward comparison from — the last year or two.

I saw a long series of signs, like the scrims on shims of days gone by on an old pre-freeway, lined up about every 15 feet at the height of the pandemic, or near its end, on The Edge of where there was no sidewalk outside Hudson High School. Crazy times. And inside, no doubt, were a bunch of ADHDers wanting more Adderall and stuck inside, if school was even in session, I would venture a guess. And bless them, there could be worse things. But why important? The signs were hawking the need to have better mental health. Hmm … Success??

Back to … last month. It was National and State and Local as I’m sure, Mental Health Month. Finally getting around to fitting this all in, and possibly linking irrationally, as that’s what happens when you go off your Adderall for a few days and then … bang … like its The Fourth all over again.

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Kaitie Leising.

Those two words have remained on the tongues of many of us for about two weeks, in singular fashion. As that it took only a single bullet from a drunken driving suspect to make her suddenly well-known.

Her name has lingered on the upper marquee at Agave Kitchen for a time that’s by far unprecedented. It is a venue that deeply respects law enforcement, and when the night winds down and there are officers afoot, they sometimes get a culinary treat of respect.

It was days after the shooting and it still was TV headline news all the way down in Milwaukee, where I was seeing family, who though in a nice suburb still gets exposed to this type of news frequently. Fittingly I went over Mother’s Day.

A man who I was driving with noted that the Hudson High School parking lot to the left would be full and have cars moved even across the main street nearby, even if days later, as it would be attended by seldom seen numbers for the observance of her life and death, necessitating it to be held at the school rather than a usually house-sized funeral home.

When I was exiting Hudson to travel south and first waited at the park and ride by Target, I saw a number of EMS and fire vehicles round the corners at or near Carmichael Road. Different colors and jurisdictions, although all from the region, but I assumed they were maybe heading to the school for the said, sad occasion.

Could some good, or at least respect come from this? I hope things between law enforcement and much of the populace in many places will not be any more polarizing than needed because of such things. That is where my thoughts went when I saw a sign that had been erected in front of a downtown building, between its main wall and a sidewalk a few feet away, which was new and backed blue lives and their life’s work as valuable.

I have seen enough in my life, so many small things that add up, to constitute a sometimes more reality-tinged view of the Blue and what they sometimes do. Bad things happen and The Law is supposed to clean up the mess, and sometimes they get drawn into it. I have seen law enforcement do wonderful things during the much-needed but I’m sure emotionally and even spiritually draining tasks termed community policing. Being accommodating and considerate and even compassionate toward all those they serve, and that in a limited way includes the offenders. And the many caught in the crosshairs.

But as a reporter/photographer and even as one either being attended to, or scrutinized, or both, I have also seen damage from police actions, even right here in what is not Mayberry and looks less like it all the time. Stemming from bad judgment (on the fly while on the scene?) or worse. Much worse on occasion. So a consequence can be surmised, that those being arrested at times fire back with more then angry words.

I am offering a vague and slightly philosophical approach here, but there is so much I could say, not all of it bad, and so many specific examples. And lessons learned on all ends of the picture.

But maybe not right now, as things are still raw and will always be to some extent, so when will there be an appropriate time for discourse. Wait a bit, but then there’s another shooting, and the reset button gets hit to delay frank discussion.

So all we can do right now is discern. But there is one thing here I am sure of, as no one deserves to get shot, so it concerns Kaitie.

It is not politically correct to say, but I’m sure there are times when cops rub people the wrong way … However, (and again maybe not PC here), in her case with such an angelic face and cherublike and sweet and engaging smile, it is simply hard to imagine her doing anything significantly objectionable to anyone.

 

Rodgers is Jolly right now, and it may be because his new team did well without even needing a Bidwell in the draft. After all, they got the big prize that everyone his side of the Mississippi was talking and stalking about.

The first round saw two of three picks being a Green and Gold vs. Green and White flip, with more coming, and even overall pick No. 78 of the draft was toward the trailing end of the trade effect. One network went to the point of saying of the pickin’ and grinnin’ that wasn’t point-blank a Packer/Jet thing, a DB not a QB had been credited with 20 breakups. Of passes, not relationships. So don’t alert the Kardashians just yet.  And that John Wick-like looking Rodgers wannabe to whom I earlier referred? He had the full-on nose of an Ebenezer Scrooge.

All this talk brings us full circle to the Wild and their Kirill. Not Pete C. as in the college but not pro coach. Or the Mr. Kirill-and-longer named new Twins callup. Of course there right now is talk that a trade of the until- now superstar could bring some newer and longer life to the Wild and their chances, bringing say about three lesser stars to St. Paul, not seen since the North Stars.  But that’s unlikely, as we need a hero right now in Minnesconsin with Rodgers departed. As I speculated well over a year ago with the likes of Zach Parise, and now being repeated in the press, we have this thing unique to the two-state area of being very loyal to such men among boys, as they become men, to the point that ties are built with fans that don’t go asunder and even the choices of where to go as free agents can come down to staying as close to possible to home. Being a Chicago Blackhawk might be the limit. I’m guessing we’d seen those guys out among the faithful and have since Parise basically helped build the big sports bar area around the XCel Energy Center at the last time the playoffs were a big thing here, about 10 years ago.

That said, I’m surprised Rodgers stayed as long at Green Bay as he did from an endorsement standpoint. State Farm Insurance, I thought until Rodgers built up its clientele, was nowhere near what Nike has been to some pro athletes. And then there was the sudden department of Mr. B as coach of the Milwaukee Bucks, who also were an early playoff departure. So loyalty has limits even in Wisconsin.

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This last weekend had more of the same with the weather, but also featured new ways to be effected by it.

Want to get out there to your boat in the marina area? As rain and snow have been the drivers of the rivers and their sudden flooding, (and with those bodies of water the ones of focus across the metro, it has been interesting which ones will get the highlighting of onsite coverage by TV news reporters. Stillwater and then St. Paul?)

Might as well just hit the downtown bar scene and the parts of it that remain unflooded — reference the recent Flood Run of motorcycles — especially if its late. As Dan the man with the small one — he’s hoping to be entertained and thus reach medium size, so he can more fully entertain — found out. And we’re talking about boats here. He can’t make it through the park and its high water in able to go cruising after cleaning, and there was a question of whether the power source or even the boat itself is still intact or needs to be jimmy rigged, or will this have to wait, as Earth Day yields to May Day. Hope by then the people back at my old place, and their postal carrier, could more consistently access their mailbox with out stepping once or twice into a snowbank. In some places they were almost as tall as ceiling level would be, if somehow moved inside to melt much more quickly.

At Hudson Tap, all were after-Easter-intruiged by the power of the (pink?) Peeps as a snack. These were unabashedly shared in a drama that involved those on both sides of the bar-rail, and all approached found them an effective and flavorful appetizer. The love fest over the holiday candy lasted several minutes; the only time I’d seen the same people engaged for a longer period, and then come back to it, and again, was when trying to solve a Rubics cube. Banter about the approach needed, flew all around about who had the best mindset to get the cube whole again.

 

I don’t want to be a member of any club that would have me.
True words these days. Do you really want the endorsement of That Guy?
It used to be Trump, but now more or less is the backing of those wearing badges.
Either could make or break your political campaign. And could make it harder to make the money to run? So forget that last blast of cash, based on who said what when? You at long last break down and have to break off your end of the race via a concession speech. That’s got to be as hard, when getting in front of the microphone, as Ozzy giving up the ghost and announcing, again, that he’s retiring, at an age I believe is older then Biden. Just that those last two may not articulate it clearly.
So when a state possible politico, for Supreme Court, boasted that the police unions are backing her, it might not be as effective in getting the vote as you think. Ask what I’m afraid is a near majority, although not all, people who have encountered the cops, and they’d saying they were swinging past the polls to cast a ballot for That Other Guy.
This could have been another point of contention on Tuesday: If you say you support both the defunding of police and public safety as in keeping The Bad Guys legally at bay, as in incarcerated, are you not — but apparently it worked — promising all things to all people, on all sides of the aisle? Make some real choices, although we acknowledge these are very hard choices.
Just hope Tuesday’s election, once there are no possible challenges or changes left to do, even if say the vote tallies in at 60/40, or should I say 55/35/20 or 52/28/10/10, plays out to be definitive, and we don’t have the courts weighing in — or passing on — having the final say regarding a race that’s all court people. Almost makes you wish we had a dictatorship and year in and year out there would be certainty about who is in charge. And that brings a final point, do they even have in-person voting in any form in Russia? (Is that what the country calls itself now, as opposed to the Soviet Union or the Republic Of Anarchists Misapplying Marxist Theory While Starving, and maybe they should hold their own referendum on that and not be so concerned with those held here).
But is there the holding of even a sham election? Good for Putin PR. But it’s all long way to the polls if you are in Siberia. Or as one bumper sticker said, by someone who has pro hockey leanings and some things to say, but might be dyslexic, Puck Futin. Done on a futon if they’re poor, or on an Otteman with rich blood-red velvet if they are the (relatively) rich elite, and notice that not so many of them ever get to the point of having a yacht. Obviously not all, but a bulk of kissers-up-to-communism would just be upper-middle-class here, I assume. Country is landlocked anyway, and for your yacht, your so-old-to-be-rundown little cabin way up in Siberia is … way up in Siberia. Think running up to the Boundary Waters is bad? Although you are creeping close to a border and you know what kind of people you encounter there.
And also, wasn’t Otteman once an empire?

One one side of the street, its days of the new, and has been there for a few days, with more than a bigger-then-Christmas-tree, dozen-and-surpassed orbs and such, and such going ziggy-zaggy, hung from an otherwise barren tree. The first of this season, as we branch off … It includes if you back up your gaze a bit, a snowman with a tint of blue that also hits on Thanksgiving as well, and is perched between two branches, connected by a plank.
But across the street and into a yard, Halloween still lives, in a sense, as shown by the golden sword stuck through a golden skull sitting atop a pot of gold. (Looks like that image at church, which seems contradictory with the avenging angel that is St. Michael disposing with an even bigger, although bronze dagger, the sinner at his feet). On the other side of the front steps and beckoning into the yard are gourds that although small take up all its room available because of their shear number. Why do I say available? Much of the space was taken by a ghoulishly off-white pumpkin, or could it be another squash?
So give thanks for the spooky and the sacred …
Various positive factors — weather in general, lack of wind, timing of weekends, readiness of supplies at local stores — have meant almost all decorating activities around a trio of holidays, have hit us earlier than usual by a week or two, even if backing away before becoming full force.
So I’ve been backing into another facet of a story here, but will give an example first: In one way or another, wreaths incorporating pine cones and small bones, tiny branches and berries, roping and other trim, stems and sticks, needles and what-not, and all other manner of fading flora that can allow the mind to roam, mean the three big holidays of the past two months can be represented in one decore all at once. But green, marked by deciduous leaves and lawn and evergreen until recently, can lead the way widely speaking, even over gold, to color that diversity.
It’s tougher to make the old skull and crossbones undated, whether in windows or on-stage, but that rocking-it-look was present on the hatted forehead of Lemmy of Motorhead in one of the last concerts before he passed on, which in itself is fitting for the time that is now. Or should I say was.
And She Was. A Talking Heads reference, for what would they do about all the leaves that No Doubt flooded the set in the the video, showing a young girl slowly Rising Against and Above both her house and this world. The leaves are here, on this end of things, and need to be bagged as soon as the snow melts and allows grass to dry, if you have not done already. But it might not be as easy as grabbing your rake after work and before the sun goes down, as I found when walking back from Dick’s Liquor Store, case-in-hand. A guy who hit his yard right before the freeze and right after the weekend said that virtually everywhere in town that sells the big bags for leaves alone had sold out earlier that day. He must have been that 100th customer, as his lawn was clear. Gosh, I felt like offering him one of my beers.

You still have an hour. Or more if you have a Halloween Time Machine. But not as much so now, as you’ve read through the above and are bracing to move on with your holidays (often obsession) observance.
The now norm voting by Facebook for consume contest winners runs through, at the Wild Badger in New Richmond specifically, 5 p.m. Its got to be here sometime.
So who to choose from, amongst the hundreds. There was aptly, a man going as a Breathalizer and a women as a mail-order bride, complete with envelope. A few obviously off-duty cops, and are you allowed to impersonate them, if even on the recent night, was led by a literally, New Sheriff In Town.
And even into this next day, there were ears of bats and birds and bunnies everywhere. Candy was said to be sparse at WalMart, but I saw a few bins right up front that still appeared to be at about 10 percent capacity with a few select varieties, at mid-afternoon.

I have a theory. And so much depends on the weather. Dictating much of the comings and goings since Labor Day, as the bars fought to keep up with the cold, except on a good day.
There would be one such prime day, when one might not expect it, then a less primo one that should have been the one to rave about, on the day to follow. Then throw Labor Day Monday into the mix, as the attendance swing factor that tipped the scales for all the sultans who stood long through the cold, then echoed with laughter befitting the forests in the process of losing their leaves.
So, one good day and one bad day for the weekends, before and aft. Friday vs. Saturday. Different results on one to the next. And the relatively-new mega event of the fall in New Richmond in early October, saw a similar juxtaposition, when it should have been steady all around.
And then there is this weekend’s Apple Fest just down the street, fresh from the snows of two days before, in only its third year and still going strong all through the weekend. The huge Friday crowd at the downtown bars, a couple of miles to the north, fittingly directed, was the apple of any club owner’s eye. So the early-on music at Apple Fest carried forward. And I would expect even more tonight, Saturday if you’re keeping score. The Wild Badger is having the band, The Theory, so let’s test it out.

It was a not so good right-by-the-bar crowd for a Thursday, as the regular crowd was off and going something that of “course” was even more fun and sporty.
It was OK midday, but as the afternoon wore on the patron level dipped at Dick’s Bar and Grill in Hudson ebbed even more. The bartender was mostly wiping tables, good for him and his, adding that he was going on vacation come the next morning. I joked that if a pipe burst, in this the oldest bar in Wisconsin, we wouldn’t call him up in Canada. One of the few patrons seated in front of him is a regular fixture — bad pun — at Dick’s, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she is on staff part-time.
So where was everyone on this gorgeous, and hot but not too hot, summer day, where a place just down the street had a worker remark that they maybe should not have opened the big windows in front, unless they did so in back also for cross-ventilation, always good in a tavern.
They were instead at a killer golfing event sponsored by Dick’s at an area course that’s just close enough, in the near east, by to have the place’s rustic flavor kept much in mind as they measure up a putt, and being held for the 80th straight year! That’s almost as impressive a run as the bar’s tenure, double that length of years, give or take a few. No one counts them as the sun sets and the not-so-nattily clad golfers find their way back to the host establishment.
(Note there was no spoiler alert to this, as yesterday’s news, since the popular event had registration needed by Aug. 11. That’s what happens when something turns 80, of course).

Music is where you make it, especially in these days of cutbacks in seemingly everything but beer. Even NA near beer.
Joining the variety of festivals and fairs in St. Croix County that will roll out from now as the first day of summer until its end, are challengers from St. Paul to Germany itself.
Such as these:
— Kwik Trip, that marvel of the Midwest, is having as a part of its discounted music series for lucky reward card holders, Shawn Mendes in St. Paul at The X as part of his world tour on July 9. Earlier this year there was another, featuring Eric Church. So this promotion could be viewed as Take Me To Church, another country-ish song.
— There also is the Midwest Deathfest (or Dethfest) on June 25. Hard to tell which exactly, as most of the letters in the names of most of the groups looked mostly the same, serifs style-wise.
— As a preview to the Minnesota State Fair, those grounds each June hold the 13th and counting St. Paul summer beer fest, billed as a world beater. (Um, its actually in Falcon Heights, and we think there may be a method behind this more than a typo). To wit, also this month was held a Twin Cities craft beer fest with unlimited pours. Does Germany know these things?
— And Germany and/or Scandinavia, to take in both of the main groups of people in this end of the world, held one of the first reopener hardcore music fests after the main pandemic LAST summer, to we assume have a recap this year. If you can get a plane flight to get you there. Or likewise, to the just pumped “top caveman music” Americana-ish gathering in Weston, Colorado.

There were other ways to mark Memorial Day, one led by a sign from a local staffing business that said simply, the land of the free comes from the work of the brave. This message replaced an earlier one that read, OMG Becky can you believe the size of those! It was talking about the hourly rates, so “check” it out. Days earlier, workers were posted out front with ad signs that they held themselves. Thought that the guy, caught in the act while walking down the sidewalk to get ready and set up shop, would have gotten even better results if a temp Chippendale.
On the very few days where were workable conditions for landscaping in New Richmond, such jobs were being done at a salon that ends its name in Sixteen-14 and we assume the worker was just a wee bit older than that, (sorry about the bad work-permit pun), and at the Post Office, where the government-serving-us-all agency, (good theme considering the holiday that was coming) was laying down whole new sets of wood chips and bushes by the dozen.
And on the old south end, some of the more quaint yards were getting it together for summer when they could, weather permitting, and interspersed among them were patriotic emblems that are creative beyond the usual stars and stripes.

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Lead on, lead on, lead on, to follow up my long lead item from yesterday about fish fillet fodder, and lure both you and the lunkers in.
This ain’t your mama’s fish. Or is it …
Growing up near German-Polish Merrill, in north-central Wisconsin, there was Bill’s Fine Food, a man with a colorful past placing a sizable fish pond of rainbow trout as you walked in the door, with just a small vestibule between you and the gateway to the supper club. Fish food to beef up those trout could also be purchased for the smallest of coins and put in a like-size paper cup. And if I recall, that kind of fish was on the menu too, at least as a special, one of a few going beyond the usual walleye that dominates restaurants today.
Then back westward in Hudson, before there was the Smilin’ Moose, there was another namesake, Bob Smith’s Sports Club, that had a pond of similar size, but circular rather than rectangular, and right in the middle of the seating area, thus occupying the main position behind the circular bar area. It was home to a small stuffed alligator, and therefore there was no need to feed it, like you would anyway. Rather to entertain the killer fish fry. And probably not the divided-diligence for white bass that if a favorite of some ethnic peoples and draws them to The Big Rivers.
And then way down south we have The Kinni and the like, with their trouts of many colors. That could go beyond walleye too. And the much bigger catfish on the this-stream-goes-flowing-into-it St. Croix, quite large in itself.
And not to flounder, but you can get a sandwich featuring this fish stuck in the middle at Popeye’s, caught at lower elevations of water, then served on The Hill in Hudson.
So that is more of a listing of what you can eat on Friday, following up what’s on my front page.
And of course in this state of mind, you can have beer battered fish, and it could perchance use dark beer (uhm, not apparent to be from the Land of Sky Blues Waters) or even a bit larger portion of IPA, in the kitchen that is an offshoot from the bar area. And amber should mesh. Just watch out for fruity flavors. So many brews have fish pictured on their cans or bottles, even two at a time to milk a theme. And lager is a safe choice.

So then, fish and even potatoes as the ultimate save your pennies food on any given night, are now ramping up in price, as is corn, so what do you do to make your Friday full?
Check out a place that might give you some new twist on fish fry, then expand on it on your own kitchen.
You could have beer battered in this land of 10,000 new brews, and your cheese too.
So, we just went to a place known for their Greek food, a very little bit a feta atop your fish? And a small amount of horseradish yes, makes more sense.
I have seen that in recent years, many restaurants are having to charge higher prices due to overhead costs such as staffing — if you can find enough such people — and food shortages from shipping snafus, as actually moving trucks have to try hard to cross domestic borders. They’ve been compensating by amping up portions. But now will that super-sizing practice last??
On our recent excursion, the fish on our sandwich had to weight in at about the size of a young bass — I’m guessing over a half-pound. But the server was coy when asking, are fries OK? What are the options? Hash browns just to start, as they were heavy on touting taters. And what about that killer coleslaw you’ve always had? Oh yeah, we got that. And she asked if cheese is alright, as the sandwich comes with it. Kinda expected with your fish-wich. As an option for such venues, potatoes can come many different ways, and still are low cost to obtain, so gentlemen, get out your many and varied sauces.
But we got coleslaw after all, everyone of us, and this can help dress up a fish sandwich. Put it on top and most people would want it to be a little on the light side, not the whole cup, and we recommend a flavoring that is lightly creamy. This when done at home can be a bridge to adding other veggies, chopped to be small, such as bell peppers and maybe go beyond the red and green, hot peppers if you stay to the basics, chopped pickles that often come with anyway when out dining, tomatoes and depending on which of the above, possibly even thin diced apples.
And on that cheese, why stick to just cheddar and American. You can add various sliced varieties, even changing it up with each quarter of the of the round bun, Because You Think You Can! And don’t limit yourself to walleye, consider fashioning many different varieties of fish into square-ish nuggets and put on the bun with the rest. Go deep dish? Buying various varieties of fish for this method might stretch your budget, but hey, its a long Lent full of Fridays and it freezes. And why not some Romaine on the top with the coleslaw? And on rye bread, or sesame style, if it is not to grainy.
The inflation bug has hit us, and our diner that has hawked its build your own burger for $8.99 and possibly lower in earlier times, now has the fish sandwich at $11 and the all-you-can-eat version for $15. Your bill may be as big as your fish fillet. My mom got to the halfway threshold then doggy bagged the rest.
One thing that was skimped on is the tartar sauce. So go with that take-home and put your own version together with mayo (light preferred, or even salad dressing, to not over-taste) and pickle relish, and/or diced pickles and some of the sauce they come in.
Dad got the BBQ ribs, about ten of them constituting a half-rack (theme again) and said his sauce was not skimped at all. And I agree, as he gave me a pair.
One other situation came up that is a sign of the times. The server was very prompt and courteous and kept coming back to our table to see if we wanted anything else (I’ll take this over social distancing at this point). But she added a woman a couple of tables away got sick and there had been an accident in the kitchen, could be from being over-stressed, so she temporarily forgot a thing or two. We gave her all the due patience that these times require.