My friend Melanie, and I, ate at the 1930's Lexington Restaurant on Grand Avenue in Saint Paul yesterday.  I was thrilled the moment I walked through the front doors, with their enormous door knobs. I felt goose-bumps when I saw this fabulous vintage painting, so old the paint has cracked, hanging near our table, against the heavily paneled wall.

When I saw the decades-old, tarnished silver sugarbowl on our table, and fur-coats hanging on the backs of chairs at other tables, I knew I was clearly out of my league.

I tried to imagine which who's who have eaten off of  the hefty fork I cleaned my plate with.  It could be any number of celebrities and local heros.

Before we left this elite establishment, Melanie and I toured a hall covered in black and white photos of former guests who have earned their place on the wall.

Although I have miles to go before I earn it, I hope the Lexington saves a spot for my picture.  I've been practicing my poses in the mirror at home.  I believe I want to be memorialized in the slot next to Garrison Keillor. 

We hay-seeds need to stick together.