Dear Jack.
I took the mister to the double art opening at the Open Book building down on Washington Avenue near the Metrodome on Saturday. The center’s own parking lot was full, so we had to park the car in a lot across the street, which a nice policeman leaning on a cane told us would be OK even though the sign said otherwise. But we didn’t get towed, so I guess he was right.

Dear M—
I got an invite to the Blue State Ball Saturday night and me and missus drove way up Central to Columbia Manor, where the parking lot was packed full of vehicles with Air America bumper stickers. We drove around and around looking for a parking space in the lot (liberals seem to have a “liberal” view of the size and placement of parking stalls) before giving up and crossing back over Central to a side street, where we found a spot around the corner from a coffee shop.

Dear Jack—
You know how it is when someone says to you they think they know you but they can’t quite place you? In truth, it more often happens to me that I can’t quite place them, even though I maybe worked with them or knew them well at one time. I rather embarrassed myself that way not long ago, not recognizing someone my husband had worked with for years, and whom I had even worked with on a project! So I try to keep an open mind now when someone says they think they know me.

Dear Jack—
I couldn’t say how long it’s been since I set foot in a large department store or even a mall, but I had this gift card for Marshall Field’s and I was on my way back from the recycling center in Bloomington, so I figured I’d just stop at Southdale and see if I could use it to buy a Christmas gift for my daughter, K. I had in mind a clock radio. I figured a big department store like that would have a ton of them. I know Dayton’s would have.

Dear M—
You know that I’m not much of a businessman, so you can imagine how awkward it was this morning at Maria’s Café over on Franklin and 11th, when I sat down to breakfast with a half-dozen members of the Hi-Lake Business Association. I’m just not very good at this sort of thing.

Dear Jack,
I was running some errands over in Northeast when I kept seeing these sandwich-board signs pointing to Mrs. Kelly’s Tea in a warehouse building on 13th Avenue just west of Marshall Street. I figured I’d go see what the deal is. You know how much I like tea.