That was quite the snowfall. I wouldn’t say it was a storm, though. A storm includes high winds, and . . . well, more high winds. That’s a blizzard. This was just snow. Driving was fun, and I mean that sincerely: traffic was light, you could practice your strategic skills and risk prediction instincts. Parking was plentiful. Everything looked fresh and clean. It was strange to hear the atrium harpist play "Greensleeves," though. I didn't want it to be Christmas the last time it was Christmas and I wasn't in the mood to revisit that time again.

In fact it made me angry at feeling a bit bittersweet. I thought we were done with that.

Well, cheer up! It's Lobby Pizza Wednesday! Why? Because I lack imagination? No; it’s my compensation for being Wednesday, the worst day of all the weekdays. Or a celebration of the midpoint, if you’re one of those half-full type of people. BTW, I saw something sensible on reddit about the matter: if you take a full glass of water and pour out half, it’s half-empty. If you start with an empty glass and pour in half, it’s half-full. That’s how I will think about it from now on.

So noon on Wednesday is the half-empty point. Which sounds discouraged. But it’s not. Maybe I’d best not think about it like that from now on.

ANYWAY I went to the place where I always get my slice, and they had no pepperoni. Only sausage, and some hideous over-baked things with olives. They had no intention of making any more, because business was nonexistent. I thought, well, let us broaden our horizons and betake ourselves to that other pizza place in the adjacent building, and sample their wares.

The prices were lower - $3.00 a slice! But the slices were small. Two would be too much. It also looked . . . gluey. No thanks. I went back to my building and went through another skyway to Broadway Pizza, but they had no slices of the thing variety. Only Deep Dish. Which, as we know, is a Tolstoi-thick wad of bread with some sauce atop.

I went back to the original place, and had a brainstorm: why not ask him to throw some pepperoni on the sausage. This he did, and it was reheated, and yea, it hit the spot. In the middle of all this, by the way, my watch dinged! and said it looks like you’re working out. It does that when I walk. Either its standards are low, or I really put a lot into moving around.

It asked the same thing yesterday when I was putting away the groceries. Damned right I’m working out. Upstairs, downstairs, up on the chair to put something away, down to the garage to get something else - it took 20 minutes to sort everything. One of my better provisioning runs, too; I can regard the pantry and fridge with the satisfaction of a man who not only has the next week’s meals all squared away, but is certain to forget half of what he bought.

Here's what it looked like downtown today. I love the skyways. We're supposed to hate them, because if there weren't skyways the ground floor would be full of retail that was open every night and people would be walking around on the streets shopping and going to restaurants and such. Sorry. No.


Welcome back to everyone's favorite Thursday filler, the Dept. of Misc! We bring you . . .

What are these stories? Why, they're jokes! I find 20s humor interesting, because so few of these things are funny today. There's a cut-off for humor. There's also the possibility that we are more sophisticated today, and lame word-play just doesn't work because we've developed better humor. Let's test the theory and see what might work today.

This goes through everyone's mind when they pass a cop car, but it's not lol material.

It might earn a slight smile.

  Uh okay.
  And the rafters shook with untrammeled laughter
  Oh those mad new sophisticates
  The rural wizard.


Better or worse than the worst sitcom humor today?









Sometimes a place just might be cursed from the get-go: "Before its founding, Gillette started as Donkey Town named after Donkey Creek and then was moved and called Rocky Pile after Rocky Draw." Then they named it after a railroad worker. "In November 1895, a fire destroyed most of Gillette. Only two saloons, two stores, and a restaurant survived."

Well, that's enough, some would say. Now it has 30,000 souls. Not sure why I went there, but I never remember the original spur. Probably haven’t looked at these images in almost a year. Let’s see what I selected . . .


Well. I wonder if the very topography violates the ADA.

Again, you can do a lot with brick, if you haven’t a budget, and it’s one way to show the townsfolk you’re careful with money.

“Cold Drinks and a Lil Monkey Business.” Not Donkey Business?


There's very small marker on the second floor to commemorate the building’s owners. (I think it says Bros.) Let’s zoom in . . . yes.

If only I had a platt map to see what was there once upon a time.

Oh hey, I do:

It's amazing what you can find on the internet.

Here’s a corner you could find in any town. OUMB, but not that U.

Gee, should we emphasize the service core? Why not

How about some sweeping vistas, with a broad expanse of glass to provide intriguing illumination at night? Nah

I suppose it would be okay if they used it as a drive-in theater, but I don't think that's the case.

I like this. Tidy mid-century modern.

But I suspect the bottom floor was redone in the 80s.

It was strikingly modern! For a year. Or two. They loved those meaningless diagonals. Look at the way it slices through the bricks, exposing them as mere decoration!

New sidewalks, planters - wonder if it helped.

Everything about that glass-bricked series of windows intrigues me. Why the narrow ones, what the originals looked like, what the building’s original function might have been.

What did the originals look like? Were they always bricked up? What was the door like, and where did it go?

Yes, yes, I know, inside. Unless you were already there.

“We figure a combination hard-drinker’s bar / swinger’s club / planetarium ought to do some good business here”

Nice idea, but this isn't helping.

The countryside abounds with these. Hopeful and abstract.

They still say "church" in their own way, but only because nothing else really looks like this.

"Downtown needs something that both tourists and locals will appreciate: the calm, appraising stare of a dead-souled man who may shoot you for your property, wife, or both."

That'll do - see you tomorrow





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