Marissa Lingen (mrissa) wrote,
Marissa Lingen
mrissa

A habit and a meme

I have this habit of going places and doing things because they were in the Strib. I read the Arts and Entertainment section and the Taste section and the South section (before they took my restaurant reviews away from me!) and all the bits where they tell you what's going on where. And then I poke people until we go there and see/do/eat, as appropriate.

Sometimes this backfires on me.

Saturday night, Mark and I went to "H.M.S. Pinafore" in Anoka (non-Minneapolitans: an hour drive from us) without knowing we were going to a youth theatre production. Oops. No note of that in the Strib; apparently you're either supposed to know or are supposed to go on the theory that nobody goes to Anoka. Anyway, it wasn't bad, could have been worse, decent date, etc. I was very happy with the more-or-less seamless inclusion of young handicapped actors. But it would have been nice to know in advance.

Ditto this afternoon: American Iron Metal Sculpture contest for Aquatennial. I had no idea it was a recycled metal contest (cool). I also had no idea that the sculptures would be so...um...done, is I guess what I want to say. Look, it's a whimsical metal dude. How...yes, how whimsical, how exactly whimsical, you have calibrated whimsy, good for you.

(I can imagine a recycled metal dude who was actually whimsical and made me smile. These were not they. There were also non-dude sculptures, but only one or two floated my proverbial boat.)

But the combination of Strib and minnehaha B. did not steer me wrong: C.J. and I went to the Pumphouse Creamery, and it was lovely, dense and creamy and one of the many facets of What Ice Cream Should Be. I could hear my momma's eyes go dreamy over the phone when I described the mango ice cream to her and suggested hot fudge topping with it. High-class tiger-tail. And so convenient next to Turtle Bread. I got myself an orange-chocolate chip scone while we were there. I intended to break fast on it in the morning, but I had a pretty hard blood sugar crash combined with a deep ambivalence about food, so the scone did not survive the experience. Poor scone. You were a halfway decent dinner. (Component of dinner! Nobody who lives here should panic. A scone was not the entirety of my dinner. I also had some raspberries and some cheese.)

Meme from timprov and beyond.

1. Go to my user info page.
2. Pick one person on my friends list that you're curious about.
3. Add a comment to this entry with the username you've selected.
4. I will tell you what I know about them and am willing to say.
5. Post this meme in your journal.

(Actually, you don't have to post it in your journal. I think that's kind of the chain-letter thing, the wosscalled, meme reproduction instinct kicking in. You may use some kind of meme prophylactic if you still wish to ask about your fellow readers but propose no such service to your own readers.)

(Please do not describe meme prophylatics to me here. I am Not In The Mood.)

(Unless it's really funny. And unless you know me decently enough to guess what I find funny.)

Err. Someone should perhaps tell me how to do a cut tag?
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