Today’s guest post comes from Steve Grooms.

I’ve been a Minnesotan for over half a century. During much of that time if I told a person from elsewhere where I lived, that person would struggle to remember something–anything–about my home state. After an awkward silence, the nearly invariable response was: “Minnesota? Gets cold there, doesn’t it?”

So no wonder I feel grateful for Garrison Keillor. In 38 years of Prairie Home Companion broadcasts, Keillor has rescued Minnesota from anonymity and gone a long way toward defining the Minnesota culture. Although Howard Mohr wrote How to Speak Minnesotan, I think of Garrison as the godfather of that book, having created the awareness of Minnesota culture that permeates Mohr’s book.

The issue of Minnesota culture comes to mind now that the State Fair is over and we begin to feel its absence. Any list of the qualities that define a Minnesotan should start with our fascination—our obsession, really—with this fair. Other states have fairs. The mighty state of Texas has one that runs 24 days, and yet the Minnesota fair beats it in total attendance. No state is quite as proud of its fair as Minnesotans are of ours.

If you didn’t get to The Fair this year, I suspect you are feeling a sense of loss. Possibly even something closer to failure. Nothing defines Minnesotans quite like the obligations we assume.

A less appealing side to the Minnesota personality is our smugness. Minnesotans are too modest to brag, and yet if you scratch them you don’t go very deep before finding the conviction that the Midwest is the most wholesome part of the nation and Minnesota is the best state in the Midwest. By quite a bit!

The most complicated topic in Minnesota is our relationship to weather. We pay more attention to weather and talk about it more than folks anywhere, and yet our attitudes are so complex they almost defy explication. We have, for example, a love-hate relationship with winter that is uniquely Minnesotan.

This blog post itself, in fact, is very Minnesotan.

We are fascinated by our own culture and all the ways we differ from other areas. But the more we Minnesotans talk, the less interesting we seem. I liked this topic a lot when I started with it, then I grew increasingly unhappy, and now I’m wondering why anyone would read all the way to the end, which you almost have.

Maybe you’re still going because you’d feel a little guilty about quitting early? Don’t want to hurt my feelings, even though I would never know the difference?

How very Minnesotan of you.

How do you define a Minnesotan?

This is the final day of the 2012 Minnesota State Fair.
Today’s guest post comes from Barbara in Robbinsdale.

I had never really understood why there’s all that hype around The Great Minnesota Get-Together. My family didn’t go to the Iowa State Fair when I was growing up, and the Marshall County Fair was not thrilling. To me, the State Fair looked like a hot, crowded, dusty and smelly place that made me tired and cranky. Turns out the buildings are so old they aren’t even air conditioned. I would always try to resist buying too much fried food. I ended up walking clear out of my way to find things, retracing steps because I didn’t know where things were in relation to each other. I allowed myself only a few hours at the fairgrounds because I didn’t think there was much that interested me.

Until now, that is. I see that what you need is a “guide” who loves the fair and has been going for decades, really knows their way around so you don’t have to constantly consult a map. It helps if the guide likes some of the same things you like, especially a variety of foods and beverages. It helps if the guide will sit down when you want to sit down, and get you up and moving again with some new enticement.

Here are some things I’ve learned now that I have been guided at The Fair:

1. Take out a small loan to cover costs.

2. Bring a spare pair of comfortable shoes for when your feet get tired, in a backpack or some bag easy to sling over your shoulder, to hold all the stuff you will pick up along the way.

3. If you’re parking at a Shuttle Bus Lot, remember to factor in, time-wise (if you’re meeting someone), the fact that the shuttle will probably be making other stops before landing at the gate. And REMEMBER THE NAME OF YOUR LOT for the return trip.

4.If meeting your friends at the Fair, choose a place near something interesting where there are plenty of benches and freedom to browse. Rather than a set meeting time, pick a time range, i.e. “between 10 and 10:30”.

5. Give yourself at least an hour for the Fine Arts Building so you can find Hans’ (PJ’s husband’s) photo of Milwaukee Avenue.

6. Don’t try to avoid eating – just accept that you will eat and drink plenty of stuff you ordinarily wouldn’t, and it will not kill you. Try something you’ve never heard of, like (OMG) the Australian Battered Potatoes (heavenly without any sauce, thank you). If it looks like way too much food (largely because it’s the 4th food stand you’ve been to), you can split it with a friend, making it almost affordable, or take some home.

7. If there is an event (like ice cream tasting) scheduled at a set time, plan your itinerary around that, especially if Beth-Ann is going to win the prize for creating the ice cream flavor.

8. Don’t forget the Horticulture Building – there is beer sampling, and a display of seed mosaics not to be missed. (There are even rather funny political ones by left-leaning souls.)

9. Ask at an information booth – near the animal buildings – for directions to the llamas (staffers in the far flung booths only pretend to know).

10. It’s ok to let the llamas nibble on you fingers. BRING YOUR CAMERA (which I forgot) so you can get a photo of the llama giving your guide a kiss.

11. Be sure to see the chickens or rabbits, whatever is housed in the Sheep/Poultry Barn – you would NOT BELIEVE how many different sizes and colors of chickens there are! (Unfortunately, goats were not present that day.)

12. Let yourself get teary at all the beauty you will encounter – this only happened to me about a dozen times, as I observed such exquisite masterpieces grown or created by ordinary people among whom I spend my days here in Minnesota.

All in all, I had a wonderful day at the Fair, and can now understand why people go again and again (and again and again). Next time I’ll bring the camera.

(Add your own tips if you like.)

When have you relied on a guide?

Today’s guest post comes from Donna.

Last week, after months of good intentions, I finally emailed Dale and offered to do a guest blog. I asked for a deadline because I wanted to sound mature. That was August 2nd and he gave me until August 7th, so I’ve been working on it nonstop, on and off, since I got up this morning, today being August 7. Some of you may be wondering why I waited until the last minute, but the truth is I didn’t JUST start today! I started right away on August 2nd, the dragging my feet part.

On August 3rd I decided to clean out my dresser drawers to see if that might spark some creativity. Partway through I came across a two-piece swimming suit I’d forgotten about. Of course I tried it on to see if it still fit and when it did (relatively), I immediately applied sunscreen and went out on the patio to lay out. By now it was 3:00 and even though the sun’s rays aren’t as intense then, it was still very hot. I tried to distract myself from sweating by turning my dial to John Tesh’s Intelligence For Your Life Radio Show, and intermittently spraying myself with the garden hose. I decided you can learn a lot from John Tesh.

For example, did you know that if you’re late for a meeting you should make a quick apology and then drop it because if you continue to say you’re sorry you will be regarded as a wimp and your colleagues will blame you for everything bad that happens at work? And did you know that in order to lose belly fat, diet and exercise are ineffective? You must also eliminate stress from your life because once belly fat interacts with the stressors, they all multiply and fill up the space between your pelvis and ribs with flabby, dimply flesh, compromising the fit of bathing suits everywhere. Did you also know that if you are sun tanning and your lawn service arrives but you don’t realize it because your back is turned while you’re spraying yourself with the hose, the guy will only treat the front yard and leave a bill for the entire lawn? And if you call and complain about it they will send the guy back the next day to complete the job and he will leave a note that says, “Sorry about the confusion. I saw you were working on a tan and didn’t want to bother you.”

And so it continued. Each consecutive day I allowed myself to get sidetracked, figuring if I just gave it enough time, an intriguing post would incubate in my brain. I cleaned out my email inbox, deleting over 6000 items. I gave my outside house trim two coats of paint. I ordered window blinds. I worked in my classroom. I watched the Olympics and read several chapters of The Happiness Project. I got a manicure. I went to a local winery, out to dinner, and listened to live music. I went to the gym and walked with a friend. I tuned in to more John Tesh. I talked to my kids on the phone and got caught up on the Trail. I cooked, I snacked, I slept. I got a lot done and I had a great time!

But now here it is, late at night on the day of the deadline and my brain still hasn’t generated a fascinating blog topic. I’m fatigued and taxed. The boost of energy I was counting on to hurdle me to the finish line never showed up. Yikes! Now it’s just a few seconds away. So here goes …10…9… This is all I’ve got …8…7…Take it or leave it …6…5… Please don’t judge …4…3… I was born this way…2…1… Gulp!

How do you practice avoidance?

Today’s guest post comes from Steve Grooms.

My home is unusual in several ways, starting with the fireplace. It is so ugly that I have often thought about replacing or remodeling it. My home is feminine, with soft curves everywhere: in the roof, in the sidewalks, in the round-top front door, and elsewhere. But in a home where everything is Marilyn Monroe curvy, the fireplace is straight as a ruler. Most fireplaces are wide at the base and then they taper gracefully above the mantel. My fireplace is a straight column, like a big tombstone. Most fireplaces have some kind of mantel for visual relief, but not mine. It is just a big pile of bricks.

According to legend, the fireplace was designed by the architect of the home, Joe Lutz, a man who designed this house for his own family. Joe was a bricklayer as well as an architect, and very proud of it. I’ve been told that Joe sat cross-legged for almost a day on the living room floor, fiddling with bricks to design the fireplace. There are six ways bricks can be combined in construction—six and not five or seven. Joe Lutz finally created a design that would combine all six of those bricklaying techniques. So my fireplace isn’t just a fireplace; it is a showcase of the bricklayer’s art.

Because of its history, I’ll never change the fireplace. It meant a lot to the man who designed my home, and I’m compelled to respect his intentions. I am only the current custodian of this home, and the only appropriate program for me is to be humble about making big changes in the place. The fireplace has rights that are greater than my rights.

And it is one of a kind. I’ve got the only one like it in the world.

US Highway 2 cuts across northern Wisconsin, running east and west. It’s a famous road. Not famous is the tiny town of Oulu, which lies just north of US 2. If you want to go to Oulu, you drive a bit east of Brule to Oulu Rock and follow the big blue arrow on it to Oulu.
Oulu was created and is mostly inhabited by folks of Finnish ancestry. They have names like Aho, Lampinen, Kohlemeinen, Reinikainen and so forth. The town doesn’t have much going for it. Its one unusual feature is a glass-blowing gallery. Other than that, Oulu is another tiny unincorporated Wisconsin town just like a thousand other such tiny towns.

And yet there is one other distinctive thing, something in which Oulu’s residents take great pride: the Oulu Rock.
A very long time ago, people needed a way to spot that little road that runs north from Highway 2 to Oulu. Citizens of Oulu placed a large rock at the intersection and painted the rock white and blue, the colors of the Finnish flag. And they painted “Oulu” in large letters, with an arrow to point the way.

Not long ago, the Wisconsin Highway Department informed the folks of Oulu that their rock had to go. Highway design specifications require the erection of a standard highway sign to point the way to Oulu.
The highway bureaucrats were unprepared for the ferocity of Oulu’s response. They didn’t want no frickin’ highway sign and they didn’t need one because they already had a frickin’ rock. Almost nobody ever wants to go to Oulu, to tell the truth, and if they do want to go they probably know the way already! The Finns of Oulu told the highway department folks just where they could stick their standard highway sign.

The highway department countered with all the predictable arguments. They argued for the virtues of standardization. They said a reflective sign would be easier to read than a rock. They said they operated under mandates from the legislature and didn’t have the power to make an exception like this. They said The Law demanded that Oulu accept a highway sign. End of argument.
Cynics say you can’t beat city hall, but Oulu beat the Wisconsin Highway Department. Civic pride and Finnish obstinacy crushed the bureaucrats and their boring laws. When Highway 2 was widened recently, the Wisconsin Highway Department even helped move the rock a few feet north. And it is there today, proudly pointing the way to Oulu.

No other town in Wisconsin has what Oulu has. There are a thousand unincorporated villages in the state, but only Oulu has a highway rock. It is one of a kind.

What have you encountered that is absolutely original . . . one of a kind?

Today’s guest post comes from Clyde.

When science and math people put on a strong push for adoption of the metric system a few decades ago, Isaac Asimov jokingly proposed we needed some other metric units. He proposed several, the only one of which I remember was the Milihelen, which is the amount of beauty it takes to launch one ship. When I worked as a lab tech, my lab mate and I, in response to Dr. Asimov, invented many of our own, especially on Friday afternoons. Most of them I have forgotten, or am unwilling to repeat. Two of them I have included below. I got to thinking we could use a few right now. So here are my offerings:

• The kilobachman could measure so many things. Lets say dishonesty and insensitivity.



• The microcheney equals a common everyday lie.
• The decabeck describes a thumb skewed ten degrees from opposable.
• The macromartha is 1,000,000 hours of pointless media time.
• The unbiddenbidenbabble is 15 seconds of careless comment.
• A mccain mile is the distance is decent man goes to find the larger view. (But the mccain mile has some potholes, the depth of which are measured in decapalins).
• A Yankee penny equals $1,000,000 of player salary.
• A nanodale meters the speed of cleverness.



• The Connelly Constant expresses an ever-lighthearted point of view.
• The Clyde Constant expresses an ever-lightheaded point of view.
• A decacoffeesnort is a small bit of humor.
• A kilocoffeesnort is too crude to discuss.
• A kilobartholemew reports on the contents of TGitH’s closet.
• A squarerenee measures yard space turned into garden.
• Dynohollies express Utube searching skill.
• Hemisemidemiquibbles are needed to measure rudeness on the Trail.
• Gusgrits measure the rate of a Northerner’s adjustment to Southern life.
• The lurker curve is a line below which are hidden unknown wonders and a too-quiet goatherd.
• A decakilobaboon is a 100-post day on the Trail.
• Centiblevin equals a ten degree forward nod of the head from boredom.
• Thirteen duorhondas helped out with Steve’s tree.
• A centitim equals 100 typing errors.
• A megahurts measures fibromyalgia pain level.



• OMGdro’s number: number of pointless text messages sent everyday in America (6.022 ×10 to the 23rd power).
• Potatoes cubed is what I am working on for supper.
• An angstdrum holds 120 gallons of fret and worry.
• Kilowhats measure, well . . . some folks just don’t get it. At all.

I could not think of a good measure for basic human goodness, which says something about me, the state of the times, the media, or all of the above.

What would you name the unit for human decency/kindness/generosity?
(Or anything else I missed.)