Yes our household is the definition of cultural refinement. KyKy continues her sojourn in Chicago. She has reported back periodically, basically to tell us the other kids she went with are a bunch of idiots. (Note to KyKy, if you want to fit in with this crowd you need to stop acting like a mature 25 year old and start acting like a 15 year old. Yeesh) She comes home late tonight on the train, not soon enough for her I'm sure.
Friday the rest of us went to see Midsummer Night's Dream at the Guthrie. Wow. Just wow. I know nothing about architecture, but in my opinion, this building is pretty cool. We arrived early to poke around the place. This is not your typical theater building. It has 3 different stages, a restaurant and bars and bartenders all over the place. The building, not just the ticket office, is open to the public for long hours every day. If you want to go have lunch there, fine. If you want to go walk out on the "Endless Bridge" (the part of the building that looks like it's sticking its tongue out at SE Minneapolis) during the day, knock yourself out. If you want to go to the 9th floor and get a great view of downtown and the river through yellow tinted windows, go right ahead. I guess Jean Nouvel was trying to create a community gathering place, not just a theater building. Oh yeah, we saw a play there. What can I say. When 10 year old 'Nika is gushing about Shakespeare, something is being done right. Obviously, MND is made for "low" comedy, and Joe Dowling exploited that very well. There was hip-hop music and singing, Irish Dancing, great physical acting and some slapstick. I hadn't read the play for 23 years or so, so I got a little lost with the whole Oberon/Titania thing, but I was able to follow the rest of the plot pretty easily. Our review - 8 thumbs up!
Saturday, TOYH and I went to the MN History Center (on the bus naturally) by ourselves. Madster had too much homework and 'Nika for some strange reason did not want to go. There is an exhibit there called "If These Walls Could Talk." They picked out a house in the working class section of St. Paul and traced its history back 120 years. Absolutely captivating. It was a "house tour" room by room, with each room representing a decade or two of time. German immigrants who built it. Italians who worked in the breweries and rail yards who followed. African Americans and Hmong immigrants who who were not able to find living wage work for themselves. The curators were able to track down families who had lived there from the 1940's onward, and they recorded some oral histories of everyday living. Priceless. Prior to the 40s they were able to find the names of residents and their occupations and fill in some general details of what was going on in the neighborhood. It wasn't a huge exhibit, but took us a couple of hours to get through it.
As for the butt kicking, the girls and I pulled on our "jock" clothes - the girls their karate togs, and me my fruity lycra biking stuff. 'Nika and Madster took part in their first karate tournament and I went on the Ironman Bike Ride. I'm pleased to tell you that Madster kicked and punched her way to 3rd place and 'Nika to 2nd place in their sparring competition and placed 5th in "forms" (think synchronized dance routine except filled with kicks and punches). They came back with trophies and medals. I came back with a certificate stating I hauled my fat butt 62 miles on my bike. I met up with Nerdy Bike Neil, his wife Belinda and some of their Trailhead Cycle friends. It was a great ride with great people. The butt kicking part for my ride comes courtesy of a couple of riders who were all decked out in racing kits, but it doesn't involve fists of fury like the girls. After the 2nd rest stop these gentlemen came buzzing by us on a downhill section. On the ensuing uphill, I sensed that they were not as fit as they appeared when they came flying past us earlier. Since I hate hills with the burning passion of a thousand suns, I attack them just to get them out of the way quicker. Turns out "Lance Armstrong" and "Greg LeMond" were slow on the uphill. Dropped 'em pretty quick. Same thing happens on the next downhill - they zip past us. Going uphill, drop 'em again. They must have gotten tired of having an old fat guy humiliate them on uphills, so they didn't pass us up again for the rest of the ride. At least that's how I remember all this happening, my bike going pocketa-pocketa-pocketa the whole way. (Please see "Secret Life of Walter Mitty" for the pocketa reference) If you want a different version talk to Neil.
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I think that was actually Bobby Julich in the CSC outfit. That shows how strong you were riding today.
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