Actually I went to see the Mary Tyler Moore house

The wait for Coach was a problem. It gave me time to think and rethink my decisions for making snaps this week-end. We were heading up to the cities for Kmack’s fundraiser – a quicky outing as both iof us had to be back Monday. The longer I waited the more I saw problems with the camera choices. The evening it was to be only a leiquinha – travel light as the trip was to be a replication of Kerouac and Cassidy but with people of colour.

Then I thought of the rare potential of a landscape or building on the way and thought ditch the leiquinha and take Zequinho – opting for reliability. I went through every camera options – even thinking of the digital point and shoot for this entry – but ended up completely irrationally taking the two of the dodgiest cameras that I have - Joãozão and the diana along with a leiquinha to one up Coach and Walker with their digital leicas and lumixes

It was a good choice.

One day there will be a trip north along U.S. 12 but we had to make time. Stopped in Janesville, stopped again at a Scenic lookout that had a plaque to the passenger pigeon and a policemen’s memorial. One last stop at the frontier town feel of Hudson before crossing over into Minnesota. One last gasp at what makes Wisconsinites the heaviest people in the nation as we spot a table laden with boxes of doughnuts.

Out of the emptiness of north-western Wisconsin and the twenty odd deer carcasses spaced along I-94 and into outlet mall land of eastern Minnesota.

Had wandered through Kmack’s North-east Kingdom the last time I was here and trapped out in Wayzata not knowing it was where she was now living.

Pull up in front of the house only to find no-one home and me wanting to use what is left of the light – hardly anything – to make a few snaps.

Minneapolis had changed, the mill district the last time I was here was still pretty derelict now, it was thriving – people either heading to the Golden Gophers game in the Humphrey Dome or to the Guthrie.

We were eating in one of those places that smack of New York City.
Walker – who had been ringing Coach every half hour to chart our progress – was already there, with the family who were darting off to the Guthrie afterwards. Kmack’s father hops up to great Coach –mistaking him for me – and saying how great it was that we finally meet. The scene looks like a 21st century version of the rat pack, as it seems that I didn’t get the memo about the black sports coat.

It also seems that we got some disdainful looks when the rest of the family left and it was only the four of us and the brat pack turned into an episode of Seinfeld.

Wine wine, wine, doesn’t anyone drink beer? Back at Kmack’s me planning a strategy for the next morning photographing, wine – and red wine - was being poured before there was a chance of the glass being empty. I could feel the headache forming.

Left the lads to their devices and headed to a hotel out in Brooklyn Centre looking forward to being alone and getting a decent night’s sleep. Of course was over optimistic brought two New Yorkers and three week’s worth of the Sunday New York Times Book Review, but spent most of the time at the Baymont Inn trying to get a signal to upload the Blog.

Simply went to sleep.