All week long Daughter has had soccer in the morning and the dog training in the afternoon. This morning I picked her up from a sleepover and got her home in time to prepare for an hour of kicking a ball around. Went up to my room to podcast, and in the middle of it texted her to make sure she got there on her bike. She texted back that she was sleepy.

This would haunt me in the hours to come.

After the podcast I went downstairs to make lunch and get ready to go to the Fair. I noticed the dog wasn’t around. I called. No jingle-jangle of the collar tags. Huh. Went to his usual haunts. Nowhere. Scoured the house. Nowhere.

The front door was slightly ajar.

Oh. No. Got ready to go look for him; grabbed the leash - except there was no leash to grab. Huh? Went down to the garage; daughter’s bike was still there. So she had walked to soccer . . . and taken the dog?

Drove to the soccer field. No kids.

So I’ve now lost dog AND daughter. Called wife, and learned that soccer and dog-training had been switched. And no one told me because . . . because . . . well, all is well. Never mind.

No matter how much time passes, you’re only a second away from the moment in the store when they’re two and you lose them.

Off to the Fair! Again! Shot video, did interviews, went to the Strib booth to grip-and-grin for half an hour, then did three hours of radio with Hugh Hewitt, a rambling wonderful mess of a show that involved the long-suffering producer, Duane, taking the ice-bucket challenge at least 12 times. At one point Hugh went to shoot video and left the booth and told me to take the show. Hello. 150 stations, couple million listeners. Take it!

So I took it, because there really isn’t any alternative except dead air, and air is only dead if you kill it. Much fun. Drove home with that annual Fair feeling I get after I’ve been there all day and seen the lights pop on at twilight. Windows down and music loud.

Okay, well, Tractor Pictures! I love the old tractors, the ta-pocketa-pocket sound of their engines, the perfume of the diesel exhaust, the logos and bright clean colors. A few new ones this year, including a Cockshutt marketed by Gambel’s, a chain I’d previously thought of as a sort-of hardware / department store. It became Gambel-Skogmo, a name I’ve always loved, but that was probably its downfall.

The classic Deeres:

"Oh man, I love the Oliver" I heard one fellow say as he saw this grill.

You either know what it stands for, or you don't.



I may complain about this job - I will complain about it next week, only to vent - but what a place.

What a world. for today's video and the column. Go! See you Monday.


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