Porter Sculpture Park

I am gone now. I am going to stop numbering each day. I am going to do this because, today, I took enough pictures for ten or so days of blogs. Today, I am going to share the pics I took at Porter Sculpture Park in Nameless Place, South Dakota. This attraction should have just been called, “Pilver Heaven”. It was amazing. I drove up to the site and off in the distance I saw acres and acres of enormous metal statues. The man Mr. Porter himself was sitting at the entrance collecting six dollars per person as an entry fee. It was well worth it.

Serously, there a million more, just from this one place. I will end with a picture of a bull’s head that is 60 feet tall. I did not want to get to close because Mr. Porter mentioned there was a family of bats living inside.

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Day 3

Got smeared in a rum fueled game of Scrabble. Watched Unwrapped with Marc Sommers. Did I spell his name wrong? Loved day 3. Leaving in the morning.

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Day 2- packing

To me, packing for vacation is an art form. I like to start a few weeks before the trip and end up fully ready to walk out the door at least five days in advance. The old saying about planning vacations being half the fun was written because of me. Just not this time.

Here I am, on the brink of a trip I have waited fifty long weeks for, and I am just now nearing the end of my preparations. I have run into a few snags along the way.

First, I am keeping an eye on the weather to see when I should leave. There’s supposed to be nasty storms across the Great Plains for the next week and I would like to avoid them. Last year I did not avoid them and spent a good amount of time hiding out the near the Corn Palace in Mitchell, South Dakota. Another thing about the weather, my A/C is completely shot. So I would rather leave when the temps will be below eighty degrees.

Now, beyond the climate, I am realizing that there are a few things that I need to decide before I depart. My car stereo is shorting out. This is the worst thing that could happen. A flat tire I can change, I cannot fix a stereo. So, I need to purchase six D batteries to put into my 1996 boom box that I am going to strap into the passenger’s seatbelt so that I can find random radio stations along the way…and probably learn new country songs.

Also, I am starting to get cheap. I do this when I travel. I have a cooler ready to be packed with sodas and lunch meat. I am in the process of freezing water in plastic containers in my freezer to avoid buying bags of ice before I go.

Finally I need to decide which laptop to bring, the nice pretty one that is much much faster, or the Fisher Price model that may be the better choice in case I forget it at the Super 8 motel in bumsville North Dakota.

So, I am going to leave in the next 12-36 hours, depending on the weather. Whee!

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Vacation: Day 1

I am now on vacation, for a loong time. I haven’t actually started my trip yet, but I figured that shouldn’t stop me from going out and taking pictures of statues.

Here in St. Paul, Minnesota, there are a ridiculous amount of Peanuts related statues. Most of them being Snoopy’s dog house decorated to match the building they stand in front of. (I tried thinking for a good ten minutes of how to not end that sentence in a preposition. I failed.)

Here’s a couple of Snoopy’s I run across quite frequently:

This is on the outside of a veterinarian’s office.

This Snoopy is outside of St. Paul Acadamy, where they have a fabulous playground and sky high tuition.

As, of yet, I am unsure of when my “not being at home” vacation starts, so maybe tomorrow I will head to the zoo.

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The Farmer Takes a SPOUSE?!

Max came home yesterday and we went through our daily conversation:

Me: How was school?
Max: Good.
Me: Who did you sit with at lunch
Max: I don’t remember…wait…I think it was Salvador
Me: What was your favorite part of the day?
Max:Music. We learned a new song, “The farmer in the dell…….the farmer takes a spouse the farm…”
Me: What?! Wait. The farmer takes a spouse?
Max: Yes, the farmer can be a man or a woman.

Thanks for learning me that, son. Here’s why I have a problem with that. Back in cave man times when the song was written, it was written about a man farmer who “took” a wife. Taking a wife is and should be considered sexist. But that is not the part that was removed from the song. The part that was removed was that the farmer was a man who had a wife. The change was made to prove that men and women can both be farmers. Duh. Ask any male farmer what his wife does and he will probably tell you she does a hell of a lot of work on the farm. She, too, is a farmer.

The altercation was not made to prove that men can have male spouses and women female spouses. The farmer still takes a spouse as though the taken is not involved in the choice. Take that part out. Change it to the farmer requests marriage from his girlfriend. But don’t try to take an old song and tell me The Farmer in the Dell could be a woman. Cause he’s not. He never was. And it makes singing songs with your kid difficult when you change all the words. Or better yet, choose a new song.

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Home

Awhile ago I joined the “blog every day and here’s your theme” club called NaBloPoMo. I learned about this from essaytch and thought it looked interesting. I have not followed it one bit.

This month’s theme is Home. Home has got to be the most vague topic anyone could suggest. Which could help as there’s thirty days to sit and write about it. I am going to write about it for one day.

Until I was 15 I lived in two homes near each other. I thought my life would consist of that town and those people and that life forever. I figured my future children would play in the same backyard as I did and Thanksgiving would always be in my mothers dining room on that pink and blue flowered china.

The latter fifteen years of my life and been spent in fifteen different homes including with each of my sisters, my ex, my parents, my grandpa, my aunt and uncle, my son and completely by myself. I lived in a log cabin, a duplex, several apartments, typical houses, and for three months I lived in a modular home in a park where my home was the only home there. Yes I was trailer trash, yet, being as I was alone, I was Queen of Trailer Trash.

So, though its not at all as though I am a drifter, I don’t either know where home is. Maybe thirty days of this would be too difficult. I think though, I would like to have that place to call home. I mean, yes, this place I am typing at is my home. I just need to have a place I feel is going to be home for the next so-many years.

I like Minnesota. The snow and the bitter cold feel right to me. I also like the two other places where I have spent time. Remember when you were young and you played that MASH game? The one where you determined where you were going to live, who you were going to marry, and how many children you would have? I just did that. Here’s my results:

An apartment in Oroville, WA with Robert Smith and 5 kids. At least know I know 😉

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This Week

I have a M-F job. I consider myself fortunate for this. I have a two week plus vacation from this job beginning in one week. This is my one time of the year to screw off. I don’t wanna mess it up. In addition to trip preparations, I have somewhat of a social life this week as well. This doesn’t happen all the time. So, I am going to make an attempt to hide from the internet this week. So that I can get things done. I don’t think it is going to work. But when vacationpaloosa starts I plan on spending evenings in seedy motels posting pictures of my road adventures. I can think of nothing else I would rather do.

Indeed.

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Proof I Need a New Camera

There was a very small rainstorm today followed by the MOST BEAUTIFUL DOUBLE RAINBOW!!!
(caps lock fully needed for that phrase)

This is all that showed up for me with my cell cam. This will not do.

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Funny Minnesota

In one year, or a little more, depending on my motivation, I will graduate. There’s going to be a sheet of paper hanging on my wall that certifies that I have a degree. While I am very excited for that day, I am also realizing the struggle that will come after. Having a degree in creative writing is about as useful as having a degree in theater. You can only make money with it if you are exceptionally good, and even then you need a bit of luck.

I have been here at The Pilver for nearly a year now, and it is my favorite and most isolating hobby. I most definitely plan on renewing my url for the rest of my life, but I am now starting another. Why? I think I would like to write on something slightly structured and topical.

So, now I own funnyminnesota.com, which is also funnyminnesota.wordpress.com. (and I give all the thanks to buying the url to Billy, who sent me a credits gift that I am finally using. Thanks Billy!) I imagine I will just go ahead and report on the ridiculous parts of my state. There’s plenty to write about.

Just so you know, there is nothing there now. So, to kick off making fun of my home I will leave you with a terribly cheesy joke from A Prairie Home Companion:

Q:If a Palestinian and a Minnesotan get married what do they name the kid?

A:Yassir Youbetcha!

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Customer Quilt

In nine days I will be off work for SEVENTEEN DAYS…I did not plan to be gone so long, but my cousin decided to get married the day I was meant to be home from vacation and since I had already requested the daycare time off I was forced to take a longer break than I anticipated. Not complaining here, just saying.

Well, I can feel my mind and body are so ready for vacation. I could sit and talk about it and nothing else for the next nine days and bore your scalp off. I think I will instead vent about the job that I am abandoning for the interior of my humble automobile.

First off, we are very near to the Minneapolis Convention Center. This means that there are conventions held with people from all over the country attending. I get lots of people from all over. I am going to be stereotypical and generalize the groups of people that come to visit my work. let me begin by saying that 90% of customers are a joy. I am not being sarcastic, they are. And the 10% that are less than spectacular don’t ruffle me too much. They give me something to write about.

The Southerner-
They will ask for sweet tea, fully knowing that we do not have sweet tea in Minnesota. Then they will say “Aaaooh…That’s riaght. Ya’ll are above the Mayson Dixay Line.” So, then I bring them our boring brewed and unsweetened tea and request their meal order. The response, “Do ya’ll have collard greens or grits?” to which I respond, “I’m so sorry, we are only serving menu items today.”
*Southerners are the worst tippers. I am over the fact that not every customer tips great, and I am more forgiving to Southerners. I honestly think that 10% must be the standard down there.

West Coasties-
They ask for chai. Now, I understand that actually reading the menu can take time. But everything we serve IS on the menu. Chai is not on the menu. Also not on the menu: soy milk, which they request for their coffee after I tell them we do not have chai.

The Hung Over Frat boys-
They smell. Do not try to hit on your server when you reek of whatever fun you had last night, instead, take a shower. The HOFB will drink all the water you can bring them. They will order huge meals and eat barely anything. And if they do not have females with them, they tip horribly. The same “types” tip great, when they have not blown all their money the previous night at Club de Flamingo or where ever they must have gone home from female-less.

The Out of Town Business Man/Woman.
They travel alone. They miss their wives and kids and they will talk to you as much as you are willing to talk to them. I actually love these customers. Because, it is nice to know that they have souls and they understand that you have one as well. Also, because our menu is unique, they will ask your opinion on what to order, and then take it. These people could tip nothing and I would be fine with it, but they always tip great.

Europeans-
Always ask for espresso post meal. For breakfast, they like baguette and cheese and fruit. They also like sparkling water. And of course wine, lots of it. They have great shoes. They tip horrible or not at all. But I get to look at their shoes, so it evens out.

Target Corp. Employees-
Target’s main headquarters is a block away from my job. The place is full of yuppies, and they love our restaurant. They are a good 7 1/2 on politeness and tipping. And they work at Target. I love that place. Just today I had a table “doing lunch” to decide on a campaign for next winter. I got the lowdown on holiday crap before anyone. I should PAY to work here.

The Fraidy Cats-
These are the people that are totally turned off at trying a Bison Burger, Huevos Rancheros or Sweet Potato Fries. It’s not something i assume, people will say things like, “Can you really eat bison?!” They order the grilled cheese with French fries. Then they climb into their Ford Taurus’ and go back to their townhouses with furniture from JC Penny’s to watch the local newscast and prepare Hamburger Helper for their kids.

Yup.

Posted in Blogroll, entertainment, Fine Dining, food, happiness, health, Hell's Kitchen, home, how to, job, Life | 15 Comments