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This past weekend I had another Twin Cities adventure: on Saturday, I drove my former local high school student Brianna up to Como Conservatory, meeting my friend Meryl on the way.

Of course, before I delve into the Como experience, I ought to back up and explain all the little Love and Other Catastrophes that happened that morning: I meant to print out my chapbook to mail on the way out of town, but there were a series of issues, along with poor directions to pick up Brianna, and then a few campus mishaps, that made what should have been a brief sojourn into a disastrous romp. And, unfortunately, all these little trip-ups, including the big sigh at the end when I missed the postmark date by thirteen minutes, we arrived at the Conservatory with only eighteen minutes of open time.

And we whipped through those earthy rooms, such a contrast to my first lingering visit two years ago. We managed to glimpse each room, the inhale that smell of green life, get a glimpse of Chloe the sloth, who was quite still and typically lazy, and slip out the door before we were locked in.


After, we went to a Japanese restaurant, something my friend Meryl, who was still battling jet lag from her trip to Japan with her husband, might not have the appetite for, but we delved into the (vegan) sushi, the tempura and udon with gusto. I even managed to get through the meal with chopsticks alone, something that probably was a first for me (and now, that sort of fun newness of it, I want to eat everything with two strips of bamboo).

It was one of those cozy winter days, not too cold out to become an ice castle ourselves, but chilly enough that being in a well-lit restaurant was comforting, bowls of soup and warm edamame before us.