All good things...

 BYE MINNESOTA!  BYE DINOSAURS!  See you all when we get back tomorrow.

The Log Chapel of Saint Paul

Psst.  Hey--come here.  I have to tell you something.  We wanted to see a little of St. Paul, so we came to the Cathedral of St Paul, which, in its earliest form, was a log cabin, but is now what you see here, complete with replica of the Pieta.  Michelangelo's is better. Anyway, the entryway to the parking lot is narrow, and there was this dude in a giant SUV blocking it, so Lizzie stopped to let him out, but he couldn't figure out how cars and traffic worked, so Lizzie, UNDER THE EYES OF CATHOLIC GOD, unleashed a pile of swears on him that would've made a pro (like me) blush.  It was very enlightening.

Two Harbors are Better than One

 So our original plan was to kick around Duluth for the day, but it was 55 degrees and raining, so we decided to check out the Spilt Rock Lighthouse, and then head south to our hotel in Minneapolis (well, Eagan, technically).

Two Harbors is north of Duluth on the shore of Lake Superior, which creates the two harbors (Burlington and Agate Bays, in case you were wondering)  and is home to the North Shore Scenic railroad, and was once home to "whiskey row" back in the late 19th century, a nod to the hi jinks of the workers of the Minnesota Iron Company.  Anyway, the lighthouse was built in 1910, in response to the big ass mufasa Mataafa storm in 1905, which damaged almost 30 ships (including the SS Mataafa), and killed nearly 40 men.  (Mataafa was raised and repaired and served another 60 years, btw.)

We could've used a lighthouse of our own, because Lake Superior was throwing some serious fog on our way to Interstate 35, and at some points you couldn't see a foot in front of your car.  Further away from the lake, it warmed up to 75 degrees, and the fog gave way to driving rain.  "Spotty showers," they call them out here.  Almost as weird as calling soda "Pop."

Bob the Squirrel Loves Duluth

"It's muthafuckin' snack time, Minnesota..."

Surprise Wisconsin

 After walking the lake, we drove around, and accidentally ended up in Wisconsin, and decided to have a drink at this steakhouse/bar. I drank both my whiskey and Lizzie's rum and coke (I am a good friend) and it was only $7.  God bless America.  And Cheese Curds.

The bar was full of men talking about cars.  One was complaining that his daughter was a "tree hugger" who drove a smart car which he referred to as a roller skate.  I turned to make sure that my Dad hadn't shown up at the bar, because that sounded familiar (ask me about the time I had my Dad grill me a veggie burger) but it was *another* dad.  Go figure.  One dude was talking about how everyone in the mid to late 90s drove an aqua marine Pontiac Grand Am, and my first car was a 1995, aqua marine Pontiac Grand Am.  SMALL WORLD, GUYS.

Duluthional

 We made it to Duluth without killing any animals, and we were greeted by beautiful Lake Superior.  We touched it (YAY!) and then had dinner, and the food was so fresh and wonderful.  When we had arrived at our hotel, the desk clerk offered us suggestions of places to go, and they mostly consisted of the Texas Road House chain restaurant across the street.  What?  He was hard selling that business, and when we looked less than impressed (and there are tons of lovely local restaurants in Duluth--this is not an East Coast snobbery thing) he told us we should go to an Irish pub downtown because they're the only bar that "really knows how to make a long island iced tea."  Okay, this is kind of an East Coast snobbery thing, but, Long Island Iced Teas are not exactly rocket science.  His biggest complaint was that some places use too much vodka.  AS IF THERE'S SUCH A THING, AMIRITE? We walked the Lake Walk, which featured the canal bridge here, and also a lot of hipsters playing banjos.  Off in Wisconsin (on the far side of the bridge) it was raining, so we decided to turn back at the lighthouse.

The cement building below is "the Cribs," or Uncle Harvey's Mausoleum.  The building has more legend than actual history, and was thought to be a booze or gambling site back during prohibition, but was really designed to be a sand and gravel hopper.  Unfortunately Uncle Henry didn't bank on the lack of demand for sand and gravel, or the strong currents of Lake Superior, so his gravel and sand business failed, and now, according to the myriad of passersby, the building is used by teenagers, who climb up and jump off of it.  According to google, a teenager died here after jumping off back in 2012, so don't do it. There are a lot of rocks here.  Lizzie and I tried to skip them, actually, and it turns out that Lizzie is way better at skipping rocks than I am.  So sad.  Also, I sang this song like, a million times.

I Hate "Fun."

So the other "attraction" in Fargo is the "Space Aliens Grill & Bar."  I hate "fun," and by "fun" I mean things that are supposed to be fun, but aren't, like Dave & Busters and Parades and shit like that.  Dear readers, we went to this place for you, because we care.  As Danielle would say, it's our crime.  The floor was sticky, as I imagine an alien planet would be, and it was all kitschy, and not in an interesting way.  The toilets were black, so it was like you were peeing into a black hole, and they had black lights in the booth, so you could see your bra through your shirt, depending on what you were wearing. YAAAAY!  I had a "Martian Munchies" mini pizza, which supposedly had onions on it, but in Mars I guess onions are an indiscernible meat, so I had to pick all that off.  Both Lizzie and I had lunch regret, and spent our 4 hour to Duluth accompanied by our regrets.

So do you remember the Nintendo game "paperboy?"  That's what our drive to Duluth was like.  At every turn, there was a new old lady with a cane jumping in front of us, trying to get us killed.  A deer ran in front of us, and Lizzie managed to avoid it, and then a bunch of crows flew in our path, and Lizzie managed to avoid them too, and then a momma duck and her ducklings were like "NOW WOULD BE A GOOD TIME TO CROSS THE STREET," and Lizzie managed to avoid them too.  I think that ticket from the North Dakota PD really sharpened her skillz.  Seriously, though, Minnesota.  Stop it.

I've actually Never Seen Fargo the Movie...

  Hello friends!  We started the day in scenic Fargo, and when in Fargo, one must check out the "walk of fame."  Most of the plaques were from country stars, but there were weird aberrations like Dr. Ruth, John Updike, and Joyce Carol Oates.  Dr. Ruth has TINY HANDS AND FEET.  My foot was bigger than the entire plaque, for fuck's sake.  Also, Fargo is know for, well, woodchippers, a la this one that was a "stuntdouble," in the movie, according to the plaque.

AND A BIG FUCK YOU TO DOMA!

This rainbow was shining over North Dakota, clearly illustrating that the powers that be are stoked about DOMA and Prop 8 being knocked down.  Aww yeah!  High fives and rainbows all around.

Salem Sue

On the way to Fargo, we stopped to visit the world's largest holstein cow, Salem Sue, who is perched on a hill in New Salem, ND.  I climbed up a giant hill to get another photo, and there was a mound of rocks that were rattling (cicadas or snakes?  who knows) so I climbed back down, and we drove the precipitous gravel road back to I-94 East.

North Dakota Roadblock

 Toward the exit of the park, we came upon this roadblock.  We waited until the buffalo were mostly out of the road (I had leaned out of the window Dukes of Hazard style to grab the pictures, so as not to be mightily gored) and then started to creep forward.  One cow started bellowing at us, because she thought we were going to separate her from her baby, but we reassured her that this was not the case.  BUT LOOK AT THAT CUTE LITTLE FACE!

After we passed the roadblock, we headed East to Fargo.  Guess what?  While we were cruising, rocking out to "Groove is in the Heart," Lead Foot Lizzie was going 91 in a 75, and we got pulled over. The police offer was super nice, and luckily the fine was only $80. Time for Mustang Maude to slow down a little. Wild Horses and all that.  Heh heh.

Horses are Noble and Represent Freedom

We came upon this band of wild horses (the horse crap pointing us in the right direction) and I took a million pictures.  The horses were giving me the stink eye, especially that pretty stallion up there, because they weren't sure if we were friend or foe.  Luckily we are not stupid, and did not try to touch the wild horses or their foals, so they were content to snuffle menacingly.  That picture at the bottom reminds me of me and my sisters, if we were horses or something.  Seriously I took so many horse pictures...

Prairie Dog Conversations

 Did you know that prairie dogs mew like cats to communicate?  Did you know that if you mew at them, they'll mew back, sort of confusedly, as if to say "are you for real, giant hairless prairie dog?"

Yes.  Yes we are.

Teddy Roosevelt National Park: South Unit

 Hi!  Today we decided to visit the Teddy Roosevelt National Park.  Originally it seemed like the North Unit (heh) was closer, but when we took the exit it said "NORTH UNIT 52 MILES."  Apparently they don't understand that we're from Massachusetts, and you don't just drive 104 extra miles round trip to see buffalo.  We went to the south unit instead, which was only 20 miles away, and much more manageable.  Who's up for some sweeping vistas?

Medora Musical Grand Finale

 The show finished up with more singing and dancing, and CLOGGING!  I LOVE CLOGGING!  Sweet, sweet clogging.  There was also a lot of Teddy Roosevelt love, and a ghost rider up the butte (who was not Cowboy Lyle, but he took down the flag) and more singing about how the spirit of North Dakota is like a fire inside. (Try an antacid--I get like that if I eat a doughnut.)  At the end a streamer canon went off, and America blew its load all over us, and Nana turned to me and said "well, girls, this isn't the best ending we've ever had.  Usually there are fireworks."  So Nana gave the ending a thumbs down, but it was a good time, regardless.  TIME TO LEARN HOW TO CLOG.  I'm starting now.

Break dance Your Way Through Medora

 The featured attraction was "High Voltage," a street dancing team which has been on various shows, including America's Got Talent, Ellen, and Step Up 3D.  (They also apparently were dancers for Justin Bieber, which elicited squeals from the young ladies in the audience.)  They were engaging, and talented dancers, and were the only people of color in the entire amphitheater.  They got the loudest cheers of the evening, and were a nice complement to the not-exactly representational manifest destiny Americana of the musical. One of the dudes on stilts had a broken wrist, and his cast was a spiderman design.  They also did a human centipede, which was kind of
creepy.  But everything else was rad.

Meat of the Musical

 The musical was adorable and fun.  The singers were great (the dancing was good--some of it was a little rough--by September they'll either have completely given up or they'll be perfect) and they did some cover songs, but also some originals about North Dakota.  The North Dakota spirit burns in every one of us, even if you're not from North Dakota, as long as you have an American heart, and if you don't, screw you.

I think I'm going to hit up the auditions next year.

Anyway, it wasn't a musical in the traditional sense, but rather a bunch of songs and dances tied together with the theme of Teddy Roosevelt's America, and the past, present, and future of the American West.  Also inner tubes and fake mustaches, because these are the most American of things.  The actors were super charming, and they worked their tails off.  I OFFER YOU MAD PROPS, FRIENDS.

It was kind of weird because Queen of the West would often be standing off to the side during the numbers, clapping and gyrating along, kind of blank faced.  Some serious children of the corn palace business there. (We imagined that she stumbles into her trailer at the end of the show with her makeup running down her face screaming "I'M QUEEN OF THE WEST!" to whichever poor crew person or actor gets in her way.)

 The songs were bracketed by stupid magic by Bill (sorry Bill) but the crowd's demographic was elderly people and small children, who seemed to enjoy it so there you go.  Always know your audience.  Which leads us to the featured attraction.

Pre-Show: Do you Believe in Magic?

 Fun fact: I hate magic.  Our "hosts" were Emily the Queen of the West (QOTW), and Bill, "Old West Prestidigitator." He entertained the masses while the show geared up, as did pedobear here.  I mean "Teddy."  During the preshow, a bunch of kiddos went on stage and got wands and listened to the Queen of the West sing in her culottes.  The emcees helped move the parts of the show along, and mostly Bill told jokes about his "wife," because WOMEN!  AMIRITE?  Ugh.  Lizzie and I immediately got down to the important business of figuring out the behind-the-scenes extra curricular activities, and we decided that QOTW was boning the skinny blonde Burning Hills Singer (you shall see him in subsequent photos) but tries to work her magic on the other singers as well, and the band members too, because why not.  Bill struck us as a dirty old man (sorry, Bill) and we imagine the women being forced to tip toe around his trailer (which is missing two wheels) but he and QOTW go way back, if you know what I mean.  Gurl, you do you.