Baseball as art? Maybe not as the Brewers practice it. Leave that to a Rubber Ducky:
— A bartender of more than two years is leaving the Village Inn for a new morning job that will work better with her art career (later in the day), allowing more time for those renderings. So I asked, among the local beer guzzlers, do you have any artistic subject matter from your time here? She said, somewhat sarcastically it was a “well duh” on that one. Then a lingering patron immediately produced a small plastic duck that he said could be a quick subject, although tiny in size.
— A couple of times during those moments, another patron lamented that the Brew crew acted like they were a little imbibed in trying to catch a couple of short flies to the outfield, (as in do you have it? No I got it? Who’s on first, what’s on second). The complaint was that’s just the way the team at the other end of the
state plays. And meanwhile, a country song played on the jukebox about taking your swing, and maybe thus batting out a flare the Brewers could misplay. (And maybe then there could be heard that song by The Outfield, “Put me in coach, I’m ready to play, today … centerfield).
— For more sports TV, on the typical business day involved with draft day, one venue that has such fodder for their stock and trade with things such as guy-macho draft day party with buddies, the bartender said that on her hyper busy day there was a the Twin Killing about the dishwasher conking out, and at the same time the cash register freezing up. A bar stalwart teased she could do something about the being in a variety of places at the same time. The response to her: Belly up to behind the bar and come help. But then technology came to the rescue, things started working again, and the busyness was no longer insurmountable. It should be noted that by all accounts, Buffalo Wild Wings, the king of such draft parties, had no such glitches, not even when rinsing down their super hot sauce for wings.
— For guys caught in the middle of macho versus trying to emulate mom, it was noted that shot glasses could be found in the size and form of sippy cups. OK, give it about two decades and then revisit that one.
— A couple of local guys recall being seated at a hockey themed sports bar and talking to a sort of mystery man, complete with hug, who told them he was grateful for the support they shared with the area team, the Minnesota Wild. When the short conversation ended, one said to the other, “do you realize who that was?” Turns out is was the owner of the Wild, buy the name of Leopold. And not Aldo Leopold.
— One of my favorite newscasters in Twin Cities television, who goes by Jay, is also one that seems to always get the big stories. But the story the other night was celebrating by tipping one the fact that his daughter has a new job. Which led to a short conversation about the merits of “one.” Let me explain. He said if you can see well with a single, clear eye, you can go home and continue celebrating there. But we said, if the single eye is that of a headlight, it changes things. To further the “oneness,” it was a few nights later I saw an old friend who said she didn’t immediately recognize me, as she had just had an eye procedure. That only left one eye, which was enough to clarify who I was, after a bit of eye-balling.
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. 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.