Madge-World: Welcome to it.

from “Delta Wedding” by Eudora Welty:

“These cousins were the sensations of life and they knew it. Things waited for them to appear, laughing to one another and amazed, in order to happen. They were forever, by luck or intuition, opening doors, discovering things, little or cherished things, running pell-mell down the stairs to meet people, ready to depart for vague and spontaneous occasions.”

When: 1961

Who: The Mister when he was 12.

Where: Woolworth’s in downtown Minnepolis

What: A gift for his mother. A sweet little nativity set. Made in Italy. Hand-painted and just 29 cents for each charming little figurine.

What remains: Baby Jesus {is he a boy, Trixie asks?}, Mary, Joseph, two shepherds, an angel and two out of the three kings. Frankincense and myrrh sold separately.

Saturday evening of the first week in Advent.

Part 1, the sacred. Sunday morning.

Right here. Right now. Best baby burger ever. That is all!

Except, I should mention this little gem is on 14th Street in the heart of the Elliot Park neighborhood.

Yeah, we did have fun tonight at Art Crank. I adore my family. Well, most of them. Including my niece who isn’t afraid to wear red lipstick. {Actual unretouched photo.}

And my sister. Who is always ready for an adventure of any kind: “back-roads” road trip or international intrigue. Take this weekend for example: we hit the fine-art circuit {we were able to attend without offending anyone} and a hipster art event {where we were able to actually afford to buy something}. And managed to squeeze in a couple of mighty fine dinners. And we’ve still got tomorrow!

Lucky. You bet.

Minneapolis photographer Lucas Saugen. I don’t know how he does it, but I’m certain there’s some photoshop magic going on here. No matter. I still like his work. A lot. And haven’t you dreamed of a commute into downtown Minneapolis with the roads free and clear. No jacknuts to cut in or tailgate you. Yeah. Find his work here and hang one on your wall.

Oh my, I do like low-tech these days. My new favorite piece of furniture procured at a south Minneapolis estate sale: an old book stand complete with nice little shelf to hide miscellaneous papers. I do save old paper, it’s part of my nascent hoarding disease. Right now, I’ve got one of my many dictionaries right by my side. {Many dictionaries = more hoarding.} Why would you want to use an online dictionary to confirm how to spell paraphernalia when you can page through and get completely sidetracked by obsequious or petiole. And, those cute little illustrations. Now I know what a petasos looks like.

The best part of this little baby? it’s got casters a.k.a. swivel wheels {which just happens to be on the same page as castrate} so I can move it around. That is, if I can get around the piles of books and old True Detective Magazines that I’m hoarding.

Uncle Billy in 1943 sitting by the Federal Building in downtown Minneapolis. Amateur Boxer. Gambler. Devoted husband. Lifelong union member {electrical workers} and working-class kind of guy. But sweet, even though he wouldn’t hesitate a second to beat the pants off you at a craps table.

Transported.

Funny how music can instantly take you to another dimension.  One night just before Christmas, I was power shopping in Lunds trying to tune out another bad rendition of “Little Drummer Boy.” {That is one song that drives me into a frenzy of irritation and should be expunged from the holiday repertoire.} Then here comes Johnny Mathis and a choir of angels singing “O Holy Night” and the heavenly sound SMACK hit me with an emotional one-two punch.

There I was. Back in the choir loft of Incarnation Church with my classmates on Christmas Eve. We were singing our hearts out under the direction of one Father Packard. The song begins softly and builds to a crescendo. There I was. In the cereal aisle hoping that no one would notice I was having an emotional breakdown, flooded with memories of a great neighborhood, a beautiful church and the innocence of those childhood Christmases.

{Softly} O holy night, the stars are brightly shining;
It is the night of the dear Savior’s birth!
Long lay the world in sin and error pining,
Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth.
{mezzo-forte} A thrill of hope, the weary soul rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.

{Fortissimo} Fall on your knees, O hear the angel voices!
O night divine, O night when Christ was born!
O night, O holy night, O night divine!

NOTE: Photo “borrowed” via Flickr from Tracy Anderson who works in microscopy and scientific imaging at the University of Minnesota.