Yesterday we went to Minot to see the Canadian Pacific RR’s Holiday Train. We went with my cousin (the Singing Farmer) and his wife (Singin’ Teacher), their dog, our dogs. We picked up our ninety-year-old aunt in the early afternoon, drove her to a doctor appointment and then over to see her bestie, a ninety-five-year old who’s recuperating from pneumonia. Then we all went to the Starving Rooster for supper, where we met the Son of the Preacher Man and his family, and another family that I just haven’t come up with a nickname yet.
The restaurant was wonderful though a bit loud for my aunt. The beer selection was a little light on winter ales but they had my beloved Two-Hearted Ale on tap so I can’t complain. Then we all went to the end of Main Street to see the train.
Several hundred people also had the same idea. It was a real bitch finding parking (then again, that’s always a problem in downtown Minot). My aunt decided to stay in the vehicle and my wife stayed with her. The chihuahua never left her lap. We hiked about three blocks towards the old depot and got there just in time for the entertainment.
The train looked spectacular but my photos don’t do it justice. As far as the entertainment, well it was pretty much some generic country-pop-rock doing stuff like “Run Run Rudolph” in a manner that would make Chuck Berry almost disown collecting the royalty check. But that really doesn’t matter. We were with family and friends, had a great meal, stood strong in the winter air, and got the hell out of there when it got too cold. We’re tough North Dakotans who know when to go outside and when to say, “OK, I’ve had enough.”
So that’s where I was yesterday. Today I’ve been cleaning house. Right now Arya is resting on my chest, purring and acting smug. If I slouch in my seat enough she can lay across my upper torso while I type and surf the Internet. In a while she’ll leave and I can go into the kitchen to try to figure out what got spilled on the floor that smells so bad. It’s definitely cat-related but I have no idea what it was. While cleaning it I’ll try to avoid humming “Run Run Rudolph.”