By definition a Growlery was a place to get away from the women, particularly when the occupier was in a cranky mood. So the question is, can a single woman have a Growlery? Apparently so, Judijudijudi sent me this picture today. Maybe she needs a place to get away from her cats.
Who are we? We are our stories.
Monday, December 19, 2011
Sunday, December 18, 2011
A Warm Snap ...
Saturday, December 17, 2011
A new attitude about biking in Minneapolis?
A close member of my family lives in Minneapolis and works in one of the western suburbs. Last weekend she finally gave in and for the first time in years she temporarily parked her bicycle and bought an automobile. Even in Minneapolis the combination of distance and weather made bicycle commuting too difficult. The following is from yesterday's Minneapolis Tribune. I assume the photo was taken earlier in the year.
The number of people burning calories instead of fuel to turn their wheels increased by 22 percent in the past year and by 52 percent since 2007, according to data to be released on Friday by Bike Walk Twin Cities, an advocacy group.
The numbers are still low compared to car usage. But, experts say, they are big enough now to make an impact on health, air pollution and traffic congestion.
"It's become a cultural phenomenon, and part of the identity of many people who reside [in the Twin Cities]," said John Pucher, a professor of urban transportation at Rutgers University in New Jersey. "Minneapolis is one of the most successful [biking] cities in the United States, which is incredible given your weather."
The trend is also producing new attitudes toward commuting and -- in case you hadn't noticed -- a need to share the roads no matter what the weather.
"I'm going to ride in the tire track, right where the cars are," said Jill Hamilton, 48, as she described how she handles her bike commute to downtown Minneapolis on snowy days. "My mindset is: I'm sharing the road, too."
The fact that Hamilton is riding -- Minneapolis has more female riders than the national average -- and doing it in the winter is evidence that millions of dollars invested in biking lanes and trails are resulting in a transformation of the city, Pucher said." continued
Friday, December 16, 2011
More of the Boyd Lee Dunlop Caper
The web is remarkable. A week ago I posted a piece about Boyd Lee Dunlop. The next day I received an email from Brendan Bannon who initiated Boyd's recording session. He had found 1410 on a Google search. We exchanged a series of emails about Boyd, but mostly about Brendan's photographs (more on that later) and Somali children. Brendan offered to send me a CD, but I had already downloaded the album from Amazon. He said they had made a small number of CDs, but the demand far exceeded his expectations. This CD is remarkable music, really Grammy-worthy stuff. I have a feeling there will be more demand; Boyd Lee Dunlop has hit the New York Times:
For years, the donated piano sat upright and unused in a corner of the nursing home’s cafeteria. Now and then someone would wheel or wobble over to pound out broken notes on the broken keys, but those out-of-tune interludes were rare. Day after surrendering day, the flawed piano remained mercifully silent. Then came a new resident, a musician in his 80s with a touch of forgetfulness named Boyd Lee Dunlop, and he could play a little. Actually, he could play a lot, his bony fingers dancing the mad dance of improvised jazz in a way that evoked a long life’s all.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Thinking About Bob Tonight
Maturity
You spend your life
Trying to get mature
And when you reach eighty
You realize that you're
Only halfway there
And running out of time
You're not going to make it
You're already past you prime
I'm as good as I can get
And really no great prize
And I ain't going to to make it
Before my demise!
Saturday, December 10, 2011
The Galmozzi In the Growlery
We finished hanging the sheetrock a couple of days ago and this afternoon I got one coat of primer on most of it before I ran out of paint. We're taking suggestions on eventual color. Disregard the window, I will be completely refurbishing and trimming them out when it warms up again next Spring. Check out the wall mount speakers. I'm pretty happy with them. They sound pretty darn good considering the diminutive dimensions of the space. The Galmozzi is sitting about where the workbench will eventually go next Spring after I get the flooring down. Slowly progressing.
1968 Galmozzi
___________________________________________________
| Campagnolo cable clips and vintage Campagnolo cable housing. |
| Campagnolo NR shifters and bottom cable guides. |
| REG bottle cage. What can I say about a bottle cage? Except it's Italian and I have a white Campagnolo labeled REG bottle to stuff in it. |
Boyd's Blues
I have sworn off posting music. Forever. But I make the rules. I can break them. Boyd Lee Dunlop was recently "discovered" playing a broken down piano with missing keys in a retirement home dayroom. He just made his first recording at the age of 85 primarily of his own compositions . This is great stuff. Rehearsing.
I'm old and set in my ways. Every time a new music format comes out I am dragged kicking and screaming into the present day again, although I never really warmed up to tape. I'm pretty much a vinyl and CD man. Except for a number of bootleg recordings I have never downloaded MP3s. Boyd's Blues forced me to change because it isn't available as a CD. But you know damned well I'll be burning one.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Peace
It's nearly midnight - almost a full moon tonight. We got our first real snow, 4 or 5 inches, a couple of days ago. It's not much by Minnesota standards, but it was enough to cover the ground and make the whole world seem clean and pure. For those who don't know, beneath a full moon away from the nervous light of humanity new snow reflects the light and takes on a moonglow of its own. The whole world becomes moonlight.
When I let the pug out for his last piss and sniff I heard a Barred Owl hooting, so I lingered a while on the steps listening to his declaration of ownership. An owl calling in the moonlight. This is one of those reality checks - a moment just to let us know that life is truly wonderful.
When I let the pug out for his last piss and sniff I heard a Barred Owl hooting, so I lingered a while on the steps listening to his declaration of ownership. An owl calling in the moonlight. This is one of those reality checks - a moment just to let us know that life is truly wonderful.
Goodnight to you all, I hope your life is as sweet as mine.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Roll, Coffee, and a Newspaper
This morning. Coffee and butter not shown. This is for Old Fool, who hates pastry as much as I do. And for Margadant who has been known to share rolls with me when he's in town. Life is hard.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
English Sheds
Yesterday I wasted a chunk of time just sitting and smoking cigars in the Growlery with Christy from next door. We do this fairly often, yet when he leaves invariably he says, "We should do this more often". I guess we haven't hit the threshold of too much yet.
Thanks to George A. for the link to these pictures. Also, thanks to The Telegraph where I stole borrowed these images. And the Brits in general, who are wonderful in their quirky "shed in the backyard" sort of way.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Angry Catfish, Beer, and Pastry
This link is for the young bearded dude at the Angry Catfish Bicycle and Coffee who sold me the tail light this afternoon. The Catfish is one of three sweet stores in a row on 28th in South Minneapolis - a triple destination. The others being Buster's On 28th next door ("What a neighborhood pub should be.") where I had a Butternut Squash Rissoto and a tap Brooklyn Black Chocolate Stout, one of a couple of dozen beers on tap. Then we moved one door down to A Baker's Wife where we loaded up on enough almond Danish pastry to fuel the remainder of life's continuing journey.
Friday, November 25, 2011
Smalltown Pleasures
On the spur of the moment the ladies and I decided to make a run down to Worth Brewing this evening. Before Lorna and I left to pick up Add at a friend's house, I called Soups Pizza in Northwood to place an order for a Hot and Spicy Peno pizza, thin crust, easy on the Jalapenos. The woman took my order and asked if we wanted it delivered to the pub? And how many plates did we need? She did not ask for my name nor a phone number nor credit card number. Now I understand caller I.D. and all, but it struck me as being a very casual transaction. When we got out of the Honda in front of Worth Brewing, I asked Lorna and Add to stake out a table while I checked on the pizza. As I walked in the door of Soup's, she looked up and said, "Hot and Spicey Peno, right?" Right. The pizza was just ready and waiting for delivery. "How would you have known who to deliver it to?" "Oh, I recognized your voice." My voice? I also should have ordered some of the buffalo wings, which Add, world traveler, has declared as to be the best ever. Maybe next time.
(If ya ain't got nothin" to write about, write about nothing.)
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