Rubber Chicken Scratchings: Mii-prompted observations from a road in West Duluth

So I’ve started walking every day in order to get some exercise and drop a few pounds this summer.

Why do I need to shed this weight, you ask? There are many reasons ...

(Health answer: Genuine risk of diabetes in my future.)

(Real answer: A super-tubby Mii showed up representing me on the “Wii Fit” game.)

... but that’s not the point. What matters is that I’m out there every day, walkin’ and sweatin’ and gettin’ it done in beautiful West Duluth. (Wait, isn’t “beautiful West Duluth” an oxymoron? Sorta like “high-speed rail” or “Secret Service Entertainment”?)

By the way, did you know we used to have a freeway out here in West Duluth? It’s true. The visual splendor of that grey, cracked monstrosity has been replaced with the auditory splendor of the constant, pounding, earsplitting jackhammer at 6 a.m. But who wants to sleep anyway? There’s work to do!

Since I have started these daily walks — I hesitate to call them “power” walks because that implies my walking has some power to it, instead of the more traditional half-hearted attempt I’m known for — I have taken notice of a few things about this portion of our fair city. One is that we have a ton of tiny dogs that are fenced in for some reason.

When I started walking — again, I don’t do it with a ton of determination … unless my iPod randomly plays the “Yentl” soundtrack, then I have to kick it up a notch — and I would see these little yippy dogs, bouncing up and down off the brown grass of some heavily fortressed front yard, I couldn’t imagine why any owner would need to lock them up. They were adorable! But last week, my question was answered a half-block past that house when I spied the chewed-up remains of the Schwan’s man, still clutching a box of Steamed Chicken Potstickers.

(On second thought, maybe you can keep walking slowly when “Papa, Can You Hear Me?” starts filling your ears, but I need to pick up the pace just to get home and grab a tissue. I’m not made of stone.)

In my daily travels, I’ve also encountered a wide variety of unexplained, trash-like phenomena that fills our streets. I say “trash-like” because I’m not completely convinced all this stuff I’ve seen is garbage. Items like:

• One tiny sandal. (If you know of a baby who’s hopping on one foot at the beach, have them call me.)

• A muddy pamphlet on “The Power of Sticking With It!” (I guess they gave up.)

• A half-eaten Twix. (Probably more than half-eaten … only took me one bite to finish.)

• A Justin Bieber CD without the case. (Actually, this one probably was just garbage.)

I believe there are some strange and wonderful stories behind each of these mysterious objects, stories that would turn Denny Anderson’s real hair gray. But I don’t have time to work on those stories right now.

The iTunes started blasting some Barry Manilow and I have to do some restorative yoga to “Weekend in New England.” My Mii is mocking me.