Well look who I finally got to stand still for a proper picture!
It’s about 10pm and Halvers and I are 50 feet onto the lake.
The dogs slide on the snow around us. We both have our blackberries out, googling “is the ice on Lake of the Isles safe to walk on?”
Google has nothing for us.
There is a huge abandoned building in the Minnehaha falls park that used to house the Department of the Interior’s Bureau of Mines.
So it was a confusing story, but apparently the mother of the kittens was killed by a raccoon, who was killed by a possum.
And another year begins.
Break is fairly busy because I work full time, volunteer, and occasionally throw some attention at the dogs, boyfriend, and music production.
But I made time to be social on New Year’s Eve. Actually, I felt crabby and wanted to go to bed early, but Halvers threatened encouraged me to go out with the Calhoun Shore crew.
I’m glad he did, because it was a lot of fun.
The night started at Kristin’s house and then we skipped to Lush.
The celebration was somewhat subdued because the hostess did the midnight countdown 5 minutes early. Apparently the clock on the DJ’s computer is fast. We had a private countdown at the appropriate time.
We skipped to Jetset Bar shortly after midnight because we got sick of the nondescript house music at Lush. Most gay men have a high tolerance for nondescript house music, but it just got excessive, so to Jetset we went…
Jetset was amazing. The small bar was so packed that steam came out of the front door.
We danced to everything from “Hit Me Baby One More Time” to “Whip My Hair.” Hilarium.
It’s become a tradition in these parts: there is my year-end music list. Did I leave anyone out?
Things didn’t get off on the right foot – the roof contractor couldn’t figure out how to work my building’s lockbox so he left the building’s master key in the back door.
You know, the one that opens every apartment. That key. In the door. Ah!
It was a potential disaster, but a tenant turned in the key to me before anything happened. I fixed the lockbox, returned the key, and moved on.
Then this afternoon I get a tweet from a tenant: “Any word what that white stuff is in the hallway?”
I come home to find this mess:
I think that’s insulation from the attic. I’m not sure. I just know that the entire back staircase is blanketed in this crap and I’m not touching it until I buy gloves tomorrow morning.
Sigh contractor. Sigh. I should blast the contractor on Angie’s List, or at least convince my landlord to can him.
We came across a totem pole during the dog walk.
The bucktoothed one is my favorite, if you couldn’t tell.
I’m spoiled when it comes to malls.
We had massive malls back in Florida, and the Twin Cities are home to Mall of America, one of the largest malls in the country.
And it sure is big:
We hit the classafrass drag show with style as the cast of Calhoun Shore – Minnesota’s take on Jersey Shore.
Left to right: Krookie, Nay-Woww, The Dilemma, and Sweedo. Picture by Mrs. Pederson.
And it was a fabulous show, featuring:
The semester is over! Now I am busy working full time at the office and pummeling through the snow with the dogs.
Here’s an outline of what happened these past few months:
It is usually easy to tell when a crazy dog person “animal fan” approaches you at the lake. For example:
The lady in the blue coat has red flags all over her. If someone is already cooing over someone else’s dog, they will likely do the same with your dogs.
It is unrealistic to expect the tenants in my building to suit up to walk their dogs in the middle of the night. What happens is that people let their dogs out in the back lot and watch from the door. Sure there’s the whole “unleashed dog” and “pick up after them” issue, but those are not convincing concerns at 3am with a -20 wind chill.
So every few days I take the shovel to the back lot to pluck the frozen dog-cakes from the snow.
