Larry and Janine, Mt Rushmore National Memorial, Black Hills. Folding Line on the back to append another president into the mountain. Big ugly.
J and E have been sending me a postcard puzzle. I don't think they cut it correctly.
This particular postcard was so very many postcards...
Bit of duplication there with the photos, but I wanted to catch them all...
Sent to the Boss on 8/11: Geocaching Whitehouse.
Yesterday I pedaled up to the Finnish Bistro in the Como neighborhood of St. Paul. Very close to the State Fair. Given the Fair is going to be shut down this year due to Covid concerns (rightly so), it's about as close to my bike ride to an Americano at the Farmer's Union there that I'm going to get. Kind of a bummer - I'm usually there earlier enough to see some interesting sights. Last year it was Governor Walz stopping by my table to say hello. I'm still getting a little bit of rub on the back tire even after my deep cleaning during a streaming Sarah Morris concert We'll see if new brake pads will take care of it. I may have to bite the bullet and do a little bit of truing. I did take a trip later in the day to find tires for the other bicycle (which has a bald back wheel), but Gateway and Strauss didn't have anything with tread due to Coronavirus stocking issues. The wait is like 4 weeks at the moment. I bit the bullet and ordered a pair of tires off Amazon. They seem upscale compared to what's on the bike after a bit of research.
Some cool animal sightings as I was out at 6:00 a.m. A bunch of turkeys wandering around near the river. And when I went past Fort Snelling a deer in the parking lot was close enough for petting for a thirty seconds. Not that I'd pet him. Deer ticks make me nervous (after two rounds of Lyme's).
Here's my bike nearby (the old one) while I eat Oat Cakes with cardamom, reindeer sausage, and an Americano on the bus bench. I think my biggest issue was lack of a metal fork. I should put one in my pack so I always have one. It would have made the meal much better. Not that it wasn't delicious, albeit a bit too much.
As I neared home, I pedaled past a bunch of guys packing up their bicycles after a morning ride near Hwy 13. I was amused that there one guy explaining that his bicycle was "not a road bike" and he could move to a road bike if he wanted to in order to be more efficient. His definition of "not a road bike" had treadless, razor thin tires, and a light frame. I wanted to yell, "THIS IS NOT A ROAD BIKE." But I refrained.
Overall, it reminded me of the Craft Beer Drinkers Be Like series that Kyle forwarded me:
To Joe: Headwaters of the Mississippi at Lake Itasca.
We've been playing some D&D lately as part of the Coronavirus WFH era. Me, Kyle, Chris, Tom (Chris' son), and Eryn. Recently, despite being low level (aka 3) we seem to have run afoul of Demogorgon (the original demon from D&D, not the Stranger Things monster, although they're related as those kids play D&D). My character has a pact with Demogorgon (my character is not evil, but he's not good - aka Chaotic Neutral) for his warlock powers, and said Demogorgon seems to be eating the locals which is at odds with our goals, so we either need to run or figure out what he's/they are up to, and regardless, if they recognize me, it might be a problem for my pact. Hence, this write up, so we don't have to discuss it for a lengthy period of time. That said, best laid plans of mice and men meet the enemy and those plans lose their tails. Something like that.
Warbear: https://www.dndbeyond.com/profile/Dexter_Scootarus_I/characters/27038034
Approach to the sudden appearance of Demogorgon, Pact Entity for Warbear
...despite doing it obsessively when I was younger. I don't practice remembering them now, so they're less likely to be sticky right after I get up which means I definitely won't remember them later unless something triggers an association. But I'll throw one down here for amusement because I actually remember last night.
So I was writing a book. It was roughly done, but needed an editor, so I traveled to a small town with an editor I was referred to and booked lodging in the upper level of a barn-turned-apartment with what seemed on the surface to be an Amish family, but had vibes of a cult. I made friends with one of the daughters (sounds like I'm going down a farmer's daughter joke path here, but I very seldom have those sorts of dreams. My brain is far more likely to use sleep time for unpacking things than for dealing with any sexual repression) at the compound, and she heads off to meet the editor with me. The editor gives me good feedback and reviews some of the work paragraph by paragraph. The daughter...her name is something like Celia, but that's not right, it was more esoteric...is excited about the editing process, particularly as the editor is a woman.
Time passes. Editing. Hanging out with the daughter. It's a relationship almost with a montage. But after a while said cult/compound becomes suspicious and digs around in my things, pulling out excerpts of my novel from the trash and desk. They decide it's sacrilegious. Not-Celia is whisked away, but not before she has time to warn me they intend to get rid of me as a blasphemer. I grab my manuscript from under the eaves where I had it hidden and run for it with the cult in close pursuit.
At some point during the chase, I find a path that goes between mossy cave walls, getting tighter and tighter until it pops out into a huge field with various people standing like statues in the meadows. In retrospect, I crossed into some other world location with deities. That tunnel was the equivalent of the rainbow bridge or walking around a mound three times before entering it. I thread my way through the field toward a source of loud noise and general partying. It is a party. A party of deities, albeit deities who have other deities as their patrons. So maybe a party of heroes? Bit more than that. There's a group of men who worship Zeus (black), a group that worships Athena (mostly men, one woman), and a group that worships a pantheon of gods. That last one is vaguely Chinese pantheon, but not. For a moment, it looks like I'm going to be a problem as a guest, but the Zeus worshipers talk to me and I show them some trick making a puff of smoke appear from their loin clothes and they're greatly amused and I'm in (as a guest). The Zeus worshipers make a big deal about how I should join them and they can help me find raw power. A woman with them channels invisible lightning, shaking everything. But it obviously makes her very violent and intent on using the power to destroy something.
Eventually I end up by the pantheon folks. One of them looks at me carefully and notes that the pantheon is virtually limitless and that certain deities are in certain people. Some of them are willing to manifest. Some of them want to ignore and be ignored but just need a home for part of their essence. He notes I have at least a dozen, but I have to accept them. And, more important, I have to not offend them by doing something they wouldn't have done in their own manifested life once they manifest through me. So if a deity was celibate, celibacy. If a deity wrote a lot, write (no problem in this context). That means any romantic entanglements with Not-Cecelia, who I am obviously here to help save, are off the table. And there it ends...gotta make a choice. Manifest some aspects of internal deities or deny it and potentially take the path Zeus offers even if in some ways it's more constrained in the power and desire to use it.
If I had to posit what it means (and I don't deal in symbology), I suspect it's a dream about focusing on the physical (health) versus focusing on internal growth and the benefits to me versus how it might be perceived externally (in the guise of Not-Celia). Taking it to the base level, should I be exercising as much (see that last post) versus reading and writing. So it's not treading any new ground, but rather picking apart Coronavirus summer focus issues, and likely triggered by a bit less exercise lately (not much less, but some; no big rides) and a bit more writing and reading. I'm glad to see unconscious me is trying to work it out, even if it can't decide between Zeus and a pantheon of hit-and-miss aspects of erudition.
Sent to Larry: Giles Corey being crushed to death with rocks in Salem. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Giles_Corey
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