bowlinger qua bowlinger

First, I’m unhappy describing myself as a Midwesterner. I prefer to call myself a Chicagoan. I’ll admit, reluctantly, that I grew up in Ohio. Growing up, though, I always thought of myself as a New Englander living in the Midwest, never as an Ohioan.

This comes to mind now because the weather has been clear the past few days, and I’m finding it disturbing. I found out, on moving here, that this entire area is ringed with mountains. There’s the Cascades to the west and south, and across the sound, there are the Olympics. I know this, but I’m constantly surprised when I look to the horizon, and there are the goddamn mountains.

Horizons are for being flat. The sky meets the earth, or the sky meets the water, in a straight line. There ought not to be jagged rocky things jutting up. On days like today, when the sky is cloudless and blue, the mountains in the distance are sharp, and I can see the snow on top and the rocks and the other stony parts. Every time I see them, it confuses me. If I drove a car here, I’m sure I would crash.

The worst part is, this makes me feel provincial and small. And it makes me want to scurry back to the places I know.

at work, we had a fondue happy hour at a local restaurant this evening. my only previous experience with fondue was with a few friends and a hand-me-down fondue set; it didn’t go so well, because everything was lumpy and things kept falling into the pot.  but tonight was delightful. lots of cheeses. lots of chocolates. delicious. and we didn’t even do the hot oils and broths.

i’m quite fond of restaurants that allow you to help cook, until i realize that i’m being swindled into doing the grunt work for the restaurant. now i’m bitter.

…the area code is 701.

Dear Mr. SUV Driver Who Honked At Me and Nearly Made Me Fall Off My Bike:

 I have a few things to apologize for.

 1. When you honked at me, I yelled, “What the fuck?!?” and gave you the finger as you roared past me. I actually meant to yell, “Hello to you too!” and give you a friendly wave.

2. When I caught up with you at the light, I rapped on your window and asked, “What the hell is your problem?” I actually meant to ask, “How’s your day going?”

3. When you responded with “Get that fucking thing off the road!” I called you an asshole. I meant to say, “Did I drop something? Was that why you were honking?”

4. When you suggested that I don’t pay gasoline taxes, and therefore don’t deserve to use public streets, I responded that yes, I do pay taxes. This was a lame response and I apologize. What I meant to say was that while I’m only visiting your state for the summer, I’m happy to pay all applicable local taxes on my wages and purchases. It’s unlikely that I’d want to move here with my car, though, because the drivers all seem to be big assholes.

5. I may have also suggested that while part of the cost of your gasoline does fund road construction and maintenance, an additional part ends up in the pockets of Islamic fundamentalists who use it to blow up American soldiers and citizens. This might have been over the line for polite conversation at a stoplight. I really feel bad about this, because it makes me seem like a crazed eco-hippie-peacenik, and I try really hard not to be one. I eat red meat, sir. What I should have said was, “I have additional, political, reasons for not making short, in-town trips in a car if I can help it. I’d be happy to discuss them with you over a beer.”

I feel like our interaction was somewhat less than ideal, and while I think there’s some responsibility for this on both sides, I would like to be the first to apologize.

 I’ve also joined the Bicycle Alliance of Washington. They’re much better than I am at expressing how I feel, in a friendly way.

I was home for about a week not so long ago. I really wished I had a camera so I could do a visual posting about Minot, ND. But I don’t have a camera so I am just going to describe a few of my favorite sights from home.

1. The “ELK MEAT” sign:

In my opinion, this sign is the most amusing thing in Minot. It’s a big and blue with a majestic-looking elk head on it. Below is the phone number you call to get the meat. This is really as straightforward and simple as a sign could be. The weird thing is its location. You’d expect such a sign on the edge of town, but this one is right across the street from the high school in a used car lot. The only building on the lot is seemingly for the car dealership, but the “ELK MEAT” sign indicates that perhaps the structure has multiple purposes. I guess it’s more likely that someone at the dealership runs a meat processing business on the side and uses the space for advertising, but I’ve never called the number so I’ll likely never know. I don’t really want to know either - the enigma only adds to the sign’s charm. My brother has a picture of this somewhere; I’ve asked him to send it to me so readers can experience the “ELK MEAT” sign in its full glory.

2. Anything to do with trains

Minot is a railroad town so there are trains going through at all hours of the day. My favorite thing about the trains is the accompanying infrastructure like viaducts, old wooden pedestrian walkways over the tracks, and a huge trestle bridge just outside of town (sorry, this was the only picture I could find of it - you’ll have to use your imagination to remove the guy in front). The trains are sometimes covered with nice graffiti, too. During this trip, I saw a train where every single box car was tagged; at one point there was a mural that stretched between two adjacent cars.

3. The Scandinavian Heritage Center

I can’t remember when the town started really developing this park. Once upon a time there was just a small A-frame hut that served as Minot’s tourist information center; now the place is landscaped and loaded with attractions. The park includes a replica of a Norwegian Gol Stave church, a big Swedish Horse, and statues of famous people. The Hans Christian Andersen statue is my favorite. I wonder if the powers that be realized they included a gay vegetarian in their park.

4. Various signs saying “GUNS” with an arrow

There is a really nice one by my parents’ new place - huge red letters and an arrow pointing right to the store’s door. No misleading advertising there.

there’s a war between Polish Village Cafe(PVC) and Polonia Restaurant in Hamtramck.

I’m at Polonia every saturday. Waitresses are always very nice and perfect in every detail. But in PVC- dirty restaurant waitresses are unpleasant. Their food is from cans. Mashed potatoes are instant.

[I] can only say good things about Polish Village. The food is good, and authentic and fresh. Polonia (next door) is no comparision. Polonia makes the kielbasa in the garage which is next to an alley where ro-dents live, which leaves much to wonder about the quality and safety.

where is this war being fought, you ask?

why, citysearch reviews, of course.

Polish Village Cafe reviews

Polonia Restaurant reviews

1985 Potatoes Stabilization Regulations

Her Excellency the Governor General in Council, on the recommendation of the Minister of Agriculture and the Treasury Board, pursuant to sections 2, 8.2, 10 and 11 of the Agricultural Stabilization Act, is pleased hereby to make the annexed Regulations respecting the stabilization of the price of potatoes produced in 1985.

Even though the title of this Canadian regulation is totally awesome, I don’t anticipate this becoming a regular feature on bowlinger.com.

In preparation for a trip to a lovely southern west coast city this week, we received information on the dress code.

 1.) Welcome reception - “the dress code for this event is California Casual.” (really, it was in upper-case letters like that)

2.) dinner cruise - “the dress code for this event is business casual.” (no upper-case letters).

3.) under “other details: dress code” - “the dress code for the retreat is casual resort wear.”

So some of us have been trying to figure out what these types of “casual” consist of and what we’re supposed to pack! I received an e-mail earlier today explaining (and yet not truly enlightening us) what these three types of “casual” mean, but I’d love to hear some ideas before I put that information in a comment.

So Prof. Lawrence Solum has a new article up, “Constitutional Texting,” and, without reading the article, I’ve labored mightily this past week to come up with a decent Scalia-texts-something-hilarious-to-Ginsberg’s-husband joke, and I’ve failed miserably. I’m hopeful that a reader of this blog, cleverer than I, will be able to do it.

“No – no – I reckon it wouldn’t hardly do, Ben. You see, Aunt Polly’s awful particular about this fence – right here on the street, you know – but if it was the back fence I wouldn’t mind and she wouldn’t. Yes, she’s awful particular about this fence; it’s got to be done very careful; I reckon there ain’t one boy in a thousand, maybe two thousand, that can do it the way it’s got to be done.”