It’s a Meat Pie, not Tassels

Of course, if it was tassels, Whooooo! Go Sue!

Mpls Misc

After arriving at at the MSP airport, I made a quick trip to the Mall of America (half hour!) and then started to head north through the city. My 200 mile drive would take me up I-35 through Duluth and then east for an hour or so to Washburn, Wisconsin. By the time I hit the road, rush hour was getting into full swing.

Boy, I had forgotten how icky rush hour is in the Twin Cities. I thought Seattle-Tacoma was bad, (and it is) but after being away for so many years, I had underestimated the Twin Cities’ “slow and go” freeway crawl. I was on the south end of town and had to head north across the entire metro. Because of rush hour, and since I had a rental car and was not at the mercy of anyone else’s transportation, I stayed off the freeways as much as possible. My route took some nostalgic turns through old neighborhoods where Frank and I lived.

Here are some miscellaneous pictures of my journey through town:

This is the first apartment that Frank and I rented together.

Odd Socks

At the Mall of America, there is an odd little sock store called Little Miss Matched. They sell mismatched socks by the trio – yes, you get three per package – with the idea that you should not have matching socks.

 

Personally, while I’m not interested in shelling out up to $3.11 plus tax per sock, I absolutely love this idea.

The Hunger Games at the Mall of America

About a month ago, I made an impromptu visit to my old stomping grounds in Northern Wisconsin and the Twin Cities. After landing at the airport, I drove my rental car across the freeway to the Mall of America. I wanted to stop in for a just few minutes before heading north to Wisconsin.

Yes, it is possible to stop in for just a few minutes.

If you have willpower.

I was there for a half hour, tops, and that includes walking to and from parking. The visit would have been even faster if not for the day’s scheduled event and me with my camera.

I guess I’m getting old. I hadn’t heard of The Hunger Games before stopping at the Mall of America. Maybe I led a sheltered life, too, since I had never been part of a screaming frenzy of teenagers.

Both book-turned-movie and screaming teenagers filled the south end of the MOA (Mall of America) when