Return of the Flies

OK, Morocco made me appreciate cleanliness and lack of flies. There were so many flies in Ras L’ma it was scary – I remember a big piece of concrete literally covered in flies. I remember flies at the souk, flies in the eyes of little kids and donkeys.

And I swore I’d never complain about the occasional U.S. fly again. After all, it’ll be dead in a few days anyway, right?

Well, I am reneging on that oath and whining about them.

This week, Hope Village had the opportunity to receive a portion of the gate proceeds of the Bakken Oil conference. Half of the $5 admission fee is being split between us, the Dakota Boys’ and Girls’ Ranch and the Williston Salvation Army. This is a good thing, of course, and I am appreciative. Thank you, oil people.

In return, we were given the opportunity to have a booth at the conference. This seemed easy enough, although the email directions started getting very, very confusing and detailed about two weeks ago.

Got all that settled and finally, the three-day conference has begun. I’m sitting, “Breakfast Club”-style, in one room for eight hours a day for three days as I type this. Exciting it’s not.

The first morning went by fast enough as I was off discovering what funky booths they have at oil conferences. Would you believe AP is here as a sponsor? I had a nice chat with Michelle Morgante, who is either the bureau chief or the news editor of the Dakotas, but she’s based in Minneapolis or something like that.

Of course, she had been through Detroit, though it was in 1991. She knew a couple of people I worked with, like Jim Irwin and Paula Froke. She was kind of astounded that I knew where some were and what they were up to these days. (Hi Bree!)

I also got an AP bag, which was kind of cool since most of my AP going away package got lost on the shipment back from Morocco. I need another bag like Rally needs more fleas, but I like it.

So the morning was pleasant enough, but the afternoons were just brutal. The nice little spot they gave the three charities is smack in the sun on a sunny, 94-degree day. Possibly Tuesday was the hottest we had all year, and man, it was just like roasting in an oven.

But what was worse was the flies. They just swarmed. I’ve no idea why, but they were everywhere. Just five and six on my feet at any one time.

And even though every single booth but Hope Village’s was giving away some little trinket, there was not a fly swatter to be found. I brought my reporter’s notebook and looked like a crazy woman, just whacking away at the air. I think in all the spasms, I maybe got one. Maybe.

The second day, someone found a giveaway fly swatter.

At these exhibitions, everyone gives away something. There’s a lot of candy and a lot of pens, neither of which I need. There are some funky stuff out there, let me tell you. Toothpick dispensers, fidgets shaped like chickens and oil rigs, golf tees and more.

We three charity booths apprehended one fly swatter among us and on the third day I figured what the heck, I’d go get a fly swatter of my own. I’d gotten the name off the first one and looked up where it was so that I didn’t have to wander.

Well, I got there, and no fly swatter, save the one the absent booth-minder had left behind hit computer monitor, clearly intended for him. I couldn’t bear to steal it. No more fly swatters. Apparently that was a hot item at this show, where the flies were just insane.

But the guy did have another freebie. I thought it was a moist towelette and thought, wow, what a weird, weird freebie. And I picked it up to look at it.

And it wasn’t a moist towelette. It was a condom. Grape.

Given the choice between a condom and a fly swatter, in Minot at this conference, it’s just no contest. Fly swatter. Hands down. I don't even like grape.

I saw some lady wandering by, the kind of white trash people you see in Walmart at 3 a.m. She three bags she’d picked up as freebies, and each one was completely laden with freebies. I guess she got her money’s worth in coming here.

When she passed me by, I hid the one remaining T-shirt I had left. It was a medium, and she was NOT a medium, and I figured I’m not going to help her out in her pilfering. Heck, she reminded me of Frick and Frack from the Red Wings games, stealing media guides and everything else that wasn’t nailed down.

So she didn’t get a T-shirt and since she came on the third day, she didn’t get a fly swatter.

I wonder how many grape condoms she took.

Center of it all

There’s a lot going on this week, but I’m keeping the focus here on last weekend. It was probably my last motorcycle ride through North Dakota.

Despite what Wendy and Leanne think, I enjoy riding. There were a couple of moments I wasn’t entirely comfortable, like going over gravel, when we forgot to put the kickstand down and the whole 750-pound machine kind of sunk and when the sun goes down and it gets pretty cold. But other than that, I’ve felt pretty safe.

I broke the visor thing so I do get wind in my eyes, but my sunglasses help that somewhat. The regular glasses are a little less so, but the weather’s been beautiful and therefore sunglasses-worthy so that point is essentially moot.

And honestly, if the wind ever gets too bad, I can just dunk behind my driver’s helmet and not look to the right or left. I miss some good views of sunflower fields that way, though.

I drove the Red Cross truck on Saturday and couldn’t get away for a longer ride then, but we opted to do a quickie trip to Rugby instead. It’s only an hour away and is the “geographical center of North America.”

So that’s a cool thing, right? Only somehow, we missed the big marker. I’m not sure what happened – this was one of those times I was staring at the red helmet – but we veered off to see the Pioneer Museum, which was closed. We walked around it, which necessitated creating a trail up and down a hill. That got a little confusing, but after that, somehow, we just went the wrong way and tooled through the town.

The little museum did have one of those little marker things and I thought it was the center point, but then in our walk, we also ran across a bigger one that was made of some kind of cheaper material. I thought maybe it was a stand-in like the fake Stanley Cup, but I really never figured it out.

However, on the way out, I saw the real marker across the street. It was a big thing on a platform shaped like a heart. It’s not much, but it was kind of neat to see. Hey, neither is the Four Corners place.

 

Yesterday, we headed out to New Town, which has a casino. I lost .70. My driver lost $8.50. I had to laugh. It didn’t take five minutes to go through it.

We went to that building – on one of several reservations in North Dakota – to avoid a rainstorm, but I’m really unclear on if it ever did rain. It was kind of neat to see, really. They’ve had concerts there before and I wondered what the venue was like. (Answer: sort of a gym.)

On the way out, we went to a hilltop that overlooked Lake Sakakawea, which, you might remember, was made when the Garrison Dam was built. When the dam was put in, it was going to flood a town in the valley, so the town relocated and Sanish became New Town.

Apparently when the water is low (which it hasn’t been since I’ve been here), you can see the spots where certain buildings used to be. As it was, the little sign said the rodeo grounds had been located under where the gigantic bridge was now.

It’s also a Lewis and Clark site, and there were little markers showing where they’d camped. On the way back from their trip, it was the spot where Sakakawea left the Corps of Discovery for home.

We got home fairly early yesterday, all things considered, and then grilled. It was a nice afternoon.

But probably my last ride. My diver heads back to Minnesota this week and is gone until after Labor Day, so I won’t see him anymore. I am a little bummed about that, but I knew it was coming so it’s not like I can complain.

There is lots to keep me busy at work this week, and then everything changes. But right now, the focus is on trying to put together a policy manual and a how-to book. As if that weren’t enough for the week, I also have to sit at a booth at the fairgrounds for three days for some oil expo.

I’m not really sure what it’s all about, but they wanted to donate a portion of the proceeds to Hope Village, and this is the hoop I have to go through to get it. At the time, I didn’t realize it was going to be THIS week, but I’m dealing with it.

What’s kind of amusing to me is that I have all these tickets and things and I really can’t say I know anyone who really wants to go. (Seriously, who do I know to ask?) I’ve even got three tickets to some reception on Wednesday night. If they have good food, I might ask my driver to go, but I don’t think it’s more than appetizers. It’s some kind of Bakken Oil event.

Sunflowers on Sunday

My countdown clock is really winding down now, and it worries me some. I’ve got at least one large project due before around the middle of November and so far it’s kind of stalled. After doing a lot of work on one phase of it last week, there’s little I can do on it until I enter my supervisor’s brain.

At the moment, that brain is suffering from a severe migraine, so it ain’t going to be today.

Today’s been a little of a letdown overall, in part because Saturday is over. This is a good thing. I had a really big community event on Saturday and I have been ready for 2:30 p.m. on August 10 since about April 3. Now that it’s over, I am kind of at a loss as to in which direction to move.

Yesterday, though, that direction was south. I hopped on the back of the bike again and got chauffeured around a big square in North Dakota encompassing the Garrison Dam, some cool national park with a lot of flowers, Hazen and Stanton, the home of Sakakawea (more commonly known as Sacajawea).

So it was nice and somewhat relaxing, even if I did forget to put sunscreen on my nose. Today I look like Rudolph. 

 

The dam is an earthen one, one of the biggest in the U.S. I’m fascinated by these things because I just don’t understand science at all. Somehow water turns into electricity. I just don’t grasp these things. A misused “it’s” jumps out at me, but my brain cannot grasp this kind of stuff.

There were lots of people fishing, be it in boats or along the sand. Saw some beaver-chewed trees but no evidence of the beavers or any dam made by critters.

Went by a fish hatchery, which wasn’t open despite being between the posted hours. You could walk in and see some tanks, but not the big long ones or anything. But it was cool to see what a walleye looks like because people talk about catching those all the time.

 

The sunflowers are massively cool. North Dakota produces more sunflower oil and seeds than any other US state, and there are fields upon fields of them.

Last week’s ride north didn’t yield too many that had gotten to the big blooming phase just yet, but on this trip there were plenty. They’re just so gorgeous.

The little Sakakawea city had a museum there, but we only had about 10 minutes before closing. Fortunately, you could wander outside in the mud igloo earth home thing. It was actually a nice-sized area with things like bunk beds and I thought that wouldn’t be so bad until I read the description that said that families of 5-15 plus their dogs and horses lived in them. Then it was a bit too cozy for me.

Saw lots of little wildlife, including something small being run down quickly by something medium-sized. Couldn’t really tell what it was, though.

The frogs were out in force and one deer jumped in front of us. I couldn’t get the camera ready for that one. Also met two cool dogs, which made me miss Kocur all over again.

Oh, and another awesome thing I couldn’t capture on film: a bald eagle. Man, that was cool. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one in the wild. This one obviously had a nest nearby because he kept hanging out in the same area (this was when we were talking to a fisherman so we were there awhile). But my camera is crappy and I didn’t even try. I just watched it fly.

I’ve no idea how long the motorcycle rides are going to last, but I am enjoying them. It’s a little tough getting the view from the bike – I have this big head in front of me – but it’s much easier to just duck down a side street and see where it goes.

Peace Out

TWO weekends away in the span of a month! What has happened to me?

I darted out on Sunday (and am unbelievably exhausted today) to go up to the International Peace Gardens with another volunteer. On the back of a motorcycle, no less, but I think I did OK. I didn’t cause any crashes, but I do know to wear more clothes next time. It was very overcast and I was really chilled.

 

North Dakota is the Peace Garden State. If you didn’t know this, well, that’s OK because neither did I. But, for informational purposes, there is a fantastic garden that straddles the border between North Dakota and Manitoba.

We, being newbies to the site, erred on the side of caution at this left turn into the garden. It’s in the zone between the US customs and the Canadian customs, and, since I lived in Detroit, fear ticking off the border guys and suggested we go through Canadian customs instead of just turning straight in.

Well, as it turns out, you can just go straight in, so my trek into Manitoba by motorbike was only the new meters it took to make a U-turn and enter the grounds. The lady said it happens 40 times a day; you’d think they could put up some kind of sign that says, “Really, you can turn left here without standing in line.”

Just over half the park – something like 1,000 acres – is in Manitoba and the other 800 or so is in North Dakota. It’s ridiculously beautiful.

We putzed around a ride around a couple of lakes. Didn’t see any turtles sunning themselves because there was no sun, but we heard some loons and saw some cool trees before we hit the main flower part.

That is just incredible. I took 100 photos exactly. I couldn’t even guess on the number of petals in the photos. They had a couple of side things, like the cactus garden, and I just oohhed and ahhed.

Even though it was overcast and misty, it was really gorgeous.

We made a stop on the way up at some random thing that turned out to be a modern-day Stonehenge. Sitting smack in North Dakota. Who knew?

On the way back, we stopped at an old cemetery in a boarded-up Catholic church. It was on one of the Indian reservations in the area. I saw some headstones that I’d never seen before, like wooden or metal crosses.

My penance for taking a weekend off was that I didn’t get a story written that I should have done. I was supposed to get it to the board members by close of business today.

I wrote it at about 3 p.m., but sent it to two board members for an early look in hopes of getting feedback before sending it to the rest. It’s a story on the exit plan as the organization winds down.

October 31 is the hoped-for end date of the rebuild. There are a lot of things that have to fall into place, but the idea of the story is to stave off panic of flooded homeowners when they see Hope Village bedroom sleeping units being packed up for deployment to Moore, Okla.

It doesn’t appear I am going to get the draft back, though, so I’m just going to cut my losses and send that version to the board. I really need to give them time to get their input before I send it out.

So peace out.

Just punched out and its [sic] paycheck Friday

I’m not much of a concert-goer, but in just over the past year, I’d seen Kix Brooks, the Zac Brown Band, Foreigner, the Oak Ridge Boys and Dierks Bentley. I’ve paid a total of $10 for the whole kit and caboodle.

Now, I’ve added Toby Keith to that list. He closed out the country acts at the fair, and I finagled a free ticket.

Actually, I did come by it honestly. A donor gave us tickets to give the volunteers and I entered on that one. All the teams left on Friday afternoon, and my odds increased drastically because it was really only Luke and me.

He is the 20something (like maybe 20) guy from Kansas who lives in the RV next to me. Very nice guy; he’d volunteered here last year to work at the warehouse and came back this year. He has done two legs: working again at the warehouse and now supervising the volunteers on site. He goes back to school – he’ll be a junior – on August 10.

In fitting in with the whole ecumenical thing, he’s Mennonite. He’s also a farmer and is huge on country music, so Friday morning I caught him heading to breakfast and told him he that we were the two people interested in them and he’d “won” the drawing.

Honestly, even though I had pretty much given everyone related to Hope Village a couple of fair tickets, I felt weird keeping one for myself even though I was pretty much it.

Anyway, Luke and I went together and had fun. I wouldn’t say it was a blast or the best concert I’d ever been to, but it was definitely cool to go.

The seats were SRO, though, and we got a spot in the back of the throng (just in front of the risers with seats) and in the middle. Which seemed like a good idea until all these 6-foot-4 people in cowboy hats started standing in front of us.

Oh well, that’s going to happen. Luckily Luke was the one who got the weirdos stopping to talk to him. He later said he must have had some sign hanging around his neck because several totally drunk off their butts people came and said really bizarre things to him.

It was fun people-watching. I can’t imagine bringing a 4-year-old to a concert starting at 8 p.m., but those weren’t even the youngest.

I tell you, God has a sense of humor. There are some funny-looking people in the world.

Anyway, the concert was pretty good. Not excellent by any stretch. I did enjoy it, but it didn't blow me away. Had I paid more than, maybe $30, for it, I would have been disappointed. It was pretty much a 2-hour Ford commercial with a soundtrack. He also looked extremely tired, and when I mentioned that to Luke later, he said he’d thought the same thing.

Other than the Ford commercials -- I am not kidding about those; so blatant even if you did discount the stupid 3-minute video intro and the “Ford”-emblazoned guitar he used for the first set of songs -- it was cool. He did most of the favorites and two common ones that weren't released but are still popular. (One was “Weed with Willie,” and I was hoping he'd have Scotty Emerick on the video screen for the duet like he did with Willie Nelson on “Beer for My Horses,” but no such luck.)

I kind of knew this, but I like the stuff he's written with Emerick more than the other stuff. I also like the ones he's done with Chuck Cannon, but the newer stuff just isn't the same. I really don't like the new single at all.

But probably a third to a half of it was Emerick's stuff, including “Weed” and “Beer.” I wished he'd have done more of the older, older unreleased stuff, but he only did “I Should've Been a Cowboy.” I guess he's been recording for 15+ years so there's no way to encompass everything in two hours, but I would have liked to have heard stuff
like “Jackie Don Tucker.”

The video screen was fun, although I’d be more inclined to shell out money for a more intimate/acoustic show. As it is, they pretty much have to put those up so people can see anything at all, but it was entertaining. The guys operating the camera were pretty phenomenal; there were so many quick cuts from musician to musician I wondered if it was a pre-recorded video, but I don’t guess it was.

Some of the videos, I think, were the regular videos that are aired on whatever networks air country music videos. But some were clearly cut just for the live shows, and those were cool. The “Beer” one had kind of a comic book theme going on interspersed with the shots of Willie Nelson singing his part. The “Weed” one was pretty psychedelic and the “How Do You Like Me Now?!” had what appeared to be shots of a young Keith, or possibly family members, then it would cut into a live shot.

The “Weed” one would have been better with it as a duet with Emerick (I am partial here, I know.) Before the song, Keith made some banter about how the song hadn’t been released and theorized on why everyone knew it, from Minot to Baghdad. It’s like, well, I can’t speak for the others, but know it because I have a huge crush on the co-writer.

Lots of drinking songs. Guess I never noticed that before. The same guy who had a hit with “Whiskey Girl” slummed last year with “I Like Girls That Drink Beer,” and the whole freaking “Red Solo Cup” phenomenon.

A brief story he told was that right before “How Do You Like Me Now?!” was released (not sure if he meant single or album), the Nashville people called him and said it was going out, get them art now.

And that was when he was in Minot at the fair, whatever 14-15 years ago. So the art on that – something about a RR trestle – is in Minot. That was pretty amusing. I don’t have my CD with me, so I can’t find it to look.

One thing I didn't think could ever be said about a country concert was that one of the absolute highlights was the trombone solo. Yes, you read that right. He had guys playing trumpet, sax and trombone and at two points they moved to the front and incorporated solos. I loved it. The guitarist was also pretty amazing. I don't think the keyboard player had a solo, though.

I tried to get pictures and it didn't work, but that’s OK because the shirt he was wearing was so horrible I never want to see it again.

And, to irritate the editor in me, there were two points during the sing-a-long when the lyrics were on the screen that they had grammatical errors.

Not kidding. I am so tempted to write his publicist. One was supposed to be "c'mon" and it was spelled "common." Really. The other was my pet peeve: "just punched out and its paycheck Friday."

IT IS. *How* hard is that? The word is a contraction.

I grit my teeth on the whole “Girls That Drink Beer,” but I can forgive that more than “it’s/its.” That is worse than fingernails on chalkboard to me.

Moon over Minot

I took the moon photo last night. It was staring me in the face after a late-night run to the plastic outhouse.

The view at night is better than the one during the day, which is still and increasingly wet.

 

I splurged on a new pair of Chacos (current count: 6) and that’s pretty much all I wear, in part because I get wet walking out the dock. (And in part, let’s face it, because I prefer sandals to shoes.)

The rain is just torrential at times. Friday it just poured.

That was the first night of the fair, and I have tickets that were donated to volunteers to hand out. The Friday night’s winner got to see Tim McGraw.

The concert, like the Foreigner one I went to last year, was delayed. It got started around 10, I heard, and shortly after that, I went to take a shower.

Hope Village is across town from the fairgrounds, but I swear on the walk to the shower trailers I heard “Everywhere.” At first I assumed it was Luke’s radio in the RV next to me, but no. Neither was it in any of the other four units, or the dining tent.

Weird, I thought, and went on with my shower. It occurred to me it was the live music, but there was no way, I figured.

Later, as I was trying to get to sleep, I swear I heard “Live Like You Were Dying,” and I thought it was really, really weird. But again, I heard no crowd noises or anything else that might have indicated I was picking up something that was going on a ways away.

Turns out, that had to have been it. When I mentioned it this morning, people said yeah, when the weather and the winds are one way, they heard the race cars and everything else, so it must have been the real thing. I probably should have paid more attention.

I’d really like to get out to a show, but I doubt it. It just doesn’t look right if I win the tickets, even if it is 100 percent legit.

But Toby Keith will play Friday. I wouldn’t pay for it unless I was 100 percent positive Scotty Emerick would play, too, but I’d go if I were gifted a ticket.

And Emerick is not likely to be there. He is playing a show the following night in Ohio somewhere, not, I guess, that he’s a frequent on the tour anyway. I’d rather see that, honestly – stripped down, acoustic with other writers like Paul Overstreet. I’d way prefer that over standing among drunk people at a fair.

On Tuesday, I have another Music Night at the Village, and I’m trying to focus on that. Between now and Aug. 10, I have three community events and I’m going a little cross-eyed here. One I am merely attending but the other two I am instrumental in the marketing.

There is also some exhibition I’ll be at on August 19 or something like that, followed by a quick weekend in Winnipeg only to return to having to get two grant applications in by August 30. (Wait, or is it three?)

At the same time, I still have two big projects hanging over my head. Both of those require wading through my supervisor’s brain, and that is one scary place.

Pile o’ Bones with a soup and sandwich

First, a knee update: exactly what I figured. The doctor on Wednesday kind of gave off a “you’re wasting my time; this is nothing” attitude and I can’t blame him. I knew I should have canceled it on Monday, but oh well.

The knee has no damage. Just take ibuprofen and ice it. Just what I’d been doing for the over two weeks I had been in excruciating pain.

Oh, and speaking of: I was going through my RV and I happened upon a leftover from the previous residents, who had been the village managers when I arrived.

In an unseen corner of one of the storage units I found a bottle of Vicodin. Oh, man. Very good to know.

This is the thundercloud that chased me.

Anyway, there’s no telling what the financial damage is to the knee. The doctor’s office wouldn’t even speculate. They took about 15 X-rays, or whatever it is they do now. They used the term X-ray, but I kept waiting on that radiation apron but they never gave me one. I think they probably shot off about eight of them before I even realized what was going on.

I don’t have “insurance,” just like I don’t have a “job,” per AmeriCorps. Instead, I have “medical coverage” but I don’t understand it. I have lots of paperwork and I have to file it and either pay before or have the doctor’s office bill, which isn’t going to happen.

But, when asked how much the bill is, the doctor’s office has no clue and referred me to “billing.” That where I thought I was; I’d left the paperwork to be filled out with things like “diagnosis code,” “explanation of diagnosis” and “amount” that morning and when I returned I expected it to be filled out.

Silly me. The doctor’s office did put some kind of number in the first blank, but more numbers in the “explanation” spot. Yeah, that’s helpful. But what even worse was, the “amount” was blank.

So this mysterious “billing” will have to do that and honestly, life’s too short to worry about it. I’ll call next month, but it was time to take a break and get out of town. 

Since I’ve been to Bismarck four times already, I wanted to get a little farther away. The nearest “big city” (in this case, about 200k: Minot is about 45k and Bismarck is around 63k) is over the border, in Canada.

So on Friday, I up and skipped town. I figured if I just had a bathtub and “The Godfather 2,” which was next in my lineup, I’d be good even if nothing else came through.

The beauty of low expectations is that usually you meet them. In this case, I didn’t quite hit those two (the DVD didn’t play in my computer, so I settled on “House of Cards” on Netflix streaming) but managed to catch up on a relationship with Tim Horton’s donuts that I had to abandon upon departure from Detroit.

Tim’s is a Canadian thing. Yes, Detroit had a few, but us Yanks never could get the Canadian Maple donut quite right. Wendy’s bought out the US chain, but I think they spun it off awhile back. (I own stock.)

Tim Horton was a Maple Leaf defenseman who was killed in a high speed car crash in 1974. He also founded (or co-founded, or something) an awesome donut place. It’s a huge Canadian chain. I guess they have other fast-food restaurants, but Timmy’s is it as far as I care. 

Randomly taken while driving at 75 mph.

.

There have been so many established and they’re so popular it’s kind of tough for some people to grasp that the chain really was started by a hockey player. They’ve even dropped the apostrophe in “Hortons” to confuse people.

Young hockey players don’t even know. I remember when Larry Murphy broke one of Horton’s records and the other veterans bought him a bunch of Timbits to mark the occasion.

Some of the younger players thought it was a coincidence and could not be convinced otherwise.

But it’s not. Tim Horton’s is not “just” anything. They have awesome donuts, and really, really good soup and sandwiches. (They also have coffee, but I don’t drink that.)

Not a screen saver, but equally cool.

And by the time I was in Canada for 24 hours, I went twice. And I intend to go for lunch on the way back. Might even take some Timbits home to everyone.

So when I say going to Tim’s was a highlight of this trip, it is not an indication that this has been a lousy weekend or anything. It’s been very low key, but perfect for what I needed.

I haven’t even found a magnet yet. I did hit an antique mall and found a cookie cutter – a pig – but I haven’t seen a lot of souvenir opportunity for a city that was once called Pile o’ Bones.

They do have the Royal Canadian Mountain Police museum here, but I decided it wasn’t worth the admission for me, although I might still see if there’s a gift shop on my way out.

Yellow flowers and a dizzying sky.

This weekend here, there is some big country music festival, but tickets were only sold for a three-day package for $180. Considering I could have only gone on Saturday, the day when the Dixie Chicks were the big band, pass.

Most of the acts that played will be at the Minot fair in a couple of weeks, with the exception of Kenny Chesney, who is playing tonight. I am leaving in about an hour, so that wasn’t going to work.

One my way downtown the second time – after the sudden downpour – I got passed by several tour buses from Nashville. When I was walking around the park, trying to find the Tim Horton’s I’d seen earlier, I saw several more buses so I guess the Radisson is the big fancy hotel in Regina. God knows the Comfort Inn wasn’t.

But, when I couldn’t find the downtown Tim’s (I swear it said next to Cronwall Place, and I walked ALL around that building!) I just went back to my own motel and walked to the Tim’s next door.