1. I was lucky enough to roadtrip with Momma to Rochester, and let me just say that she's a great roadtripping co-pilot. She understands the necessity of both (my) good music and junk food, and never once commented on my blatant speed law-breaking tendencies nor my distress at my sourdough splinter. Seriously. I was impaled by a sourdough roll at a place that rhymes with Spanera! Watch out; they're insidious and deadly. Anyway, we visited family up there, and I resisted the siren call of that behemoth Mall of America that seems to instigate pilgrimages in others. As it was, I ran into the mob at the new Herberger's where I found both a burgeoning cookie table (aww yeah) and a roving banjo band. There's nothing like perusing the newest fall boots while being serenaded by little old men playing banjos, accordians, and tubas.

The Mayo Clinic is fantastic. If you're from the area and disagree with that statement, skip ahead...much praise follows. Mayo's has become a familiar place to some of my family, and it was fun to visit all the places they've talked about for years. I finally saw the cute shops they get the best presents from, but I also got to see all the art they have up there. You think Mayo's is just a medical clinic? I disagree. They're also an unofficial art museum, heavy on the modern art. They have an entire room basically dedicated to a green/yellow/blue Chihuly on the ceiling, and a hallway full of Pre-Columbian pottery. I'm not kidding--they're serious about their art collection, enough to make sure to plan for it and design around it. If you have to wait around up there, your eyes won't get tired.

And because I was on a family vacation (of sorts), there must be a historical marker/landmark/thingy...and here it is:

The entire reason the Mayo Clinic exists is because a nun built a hospital after suckering the Mayo brothers into staffing it. They had no idea that the nun was so crafty.

I also brought back a huge bag of apples that I hand-picked, which brings us to...

2. Apple peeling and coring and slicing takes a long time and gives you prune hands. Luckily, I didn't have to do it all by myself; huge thanks to Martha's Brother for helping out. He'll get the first piece of pie when it's made in deep winter. Is there anything better than fresh apple pie when there aren't any apples around? Well, ok, homemade applesauce, but you can't have everything. I have the equivalent of 36 cups of apples in my freezer.

That's a lot of peeling.

Of course, the actual peeling and coring was an event fraught with danger as Martha's Brother tried to slice off his own finger, we exchanged 'Grandma's technique of slicing' stories (how *do* they do that? they have blade-repellent hands!), and he literally threw these apples around the kitchen and into the sink. The drain, I might remind you, full of apple cores (uh, oops, is what he tells me) and the 2 pounds of macaroni that my roommate dumped down the drain instead of into the garbage. It's called a garbage disposal, loser. We don't have one...don't try to use it.

3. 'Where, O Where has my Roommate Gone?' is a song that's climbing the charts around here, 'here' being the apartment that we apparently share. I'm not going to go into gory detail here, but suffice it to say that after living with the guy for almost 4 weeks, I've seen him actually at home 3 times. I'm loving this 3BR/no roommate thing! I am worried that once we get a third who actually might live there, I'll get all protective of my space and it won't be healthy. But until then...it's like having my own house in the middle of the city. Whee!

4. The sailing season is officially over. The boat has gone to sleep up in its dock all winter, and we've got a post-season recap tomorrow. We'll find out how we did overall and whether we're wanted to crew next year. I have no worries about that since it's a volunteer crew; but they can get rid of people if it just doesn't work out. Captain's privilege and all that. Hopefully by next year, I'll have a picture of Ozy for you to see her in all her glory. I should also be fully recovered from all my bruises and callouses to begin again...tying a bowline? How do I do that again?! And the order of a spinnaker jibe? If I can't even remember NOW, Spring 2003 is going to be ugly.

5. Last but not least: it's Willa Cather Week here in our fair city. If you haven't read any of her work, you probably should. Not only was she one of the first to write about the immigrant experience in the great Midwest, but she has a way with a descriptive phrase that's quite impressive.

Besides, I like her and you should give it a try. Start with either My Antonia or O Pioneers! but don't strain yourself.