As far as I’m concerned, it’s never too early in the morning to appreciate a good water tower joke.
Tag Archives: midwest
Check, please
I wonder if these guys are arguing over who gets to leave the tip…
Fish tales
When I lived in Minnesota, people used to tell me hair-raising stories of going fishing “Up Nort'” for muskellunge, and catching specimens that measured in feet, rather than inches. It’s no surprise the muskie is the stuff of legends—but imagine my delight when, without even stepping foot in a boat, the Tailor and I “caught” an absolute whopper!
Like butta
I used to pass this place every day on my way to work, back when I lived in downtown Minneapolis. I confess I never actually had a meal at Murray’s, but I’m not sure it matters—”butter knife steaks” aside, the design of the facade was mouthwatering enough for my taste.
Sailor’s delight
As a lifelong landlubber, I don’t often get to see lighthouses from the side they’re designed to face. So as you can probably imagine, not only was I gleefully waving back at the folks on the breakwater—I was also practically hanging off the side of the boat to get a better look at the beacon.
Just slightly corny
Every time I see something like this, I have to wonder why there are still plain, non-food-shaped watertowers in the world. I mean, come on!
Captive audience
People always ask me why on earth I’d rather take a road trip when I could “save time” and fly. And sure, sometimes flying is fun—especially when I’ve got a clear day and a window seat. But while I could go on about all the annoying things about flying that drive me nuts, or extoll the virtues of getting to know the geography between points A and B, or wax poetic about how for me it’s not actually about “saving time” at all, but about “journey” vs. “destination,” etc. etc. blah-blah-blah…
Yeah. All of that is true, but really I just need to show them this sketch:
This. This is why I’m no fan of flying. There’s only so many times I can draw the same airplane wing, or so much detail I can add to a beige plastic wall, before I completely lose my mind.
Great Googie Moogly
Yep, there’s actually a term for this retro style, for all those midcentury space-age motels, drive-ins, what have you: Googie Architecture. There are a zillion examples out there, and the possibilities are seemingly endless, but one thing is for certain: you know it when you see it. And in terms of Googie style, Route 66 might as well be the road to Mecca.
Life, illustrated
The Tailor and I took a road trip over the holidays to visit his family and friends in the Midwest. And while we had the chance to see plenty of roadside attractions along the way, the real purpose of the trip was to reconnect with the people from his past. I had met most everyone we saw before, either at our wedding or on a similar trip we took five years ago—and this time I wanted to get to know them better. So nearly every time we stopped for a visit somewhere, I asked our hosts to share photos and stories from their past, while the Tailor reminisced about his own. I’m so glad I did; the experience seemed to … well, complete the picture for me somehow.
Paul’s flaxen frére
Oh, you didn’t know Paul Bunyan had a brother (from another mother)? Well, neither did I. But thankfully my proud K State alumni friends, who know the “Little Apple” better than anyone, set the record straight for me.
I give you Johnny Kaw—the frontier’s biggest pioneer. Let Paul handle the trees up nort’—Johnny’s got his hands full plowin’ fields and tamin’ tornadoes.
