The daily digest of Twin Cities culture | Secrets of the City

All day a dragon in a rented crow costume was installed in the tree outside my house, shrieking imprecations and keeping me at bay.

A few months back I reversed the mat on my doorstep so that each time I opened the door I would encounter the word "WELCOME." My hope was that this would somehow strike me as a greeting or an invitation from the world. So far it hasn't quite had the desired effect. If anything, in fact, it's made me increasingly self conscious about what seems almost like a gesture from a self-help book.

It’s another spring evening at the Mall of America, where the Glitz store is in full bloom with taffeta and tulle. Pastel Cinderella dresses glimmer under the fluorescent lights, and the skirts bursting from these sleeveless bodices are so lush, they make the satin wedding gown I wore fourteen years ago seem downright drab. I touch the bejeweled outer layer of a particularly lovely dress, and then I see its $298 price tag, which further confirms the dowdiness of my own once-upon-a-time princess costume (now stored dutifully in a cardboard box in the basement, for posterity).