Beer, Movies, and a Fish Fry at Cousin Sean's

MLK weekend was family time, spending Saturday night with my dad, my Uncle Ed, and cousin Sean at his cabin somewhere near Brainerd, MN. My dad (The Timmer) and I arrived Saturday morning, bloody marys in hand, finding Ed and Sean watching Chevy Chase in Fletch. We sat down as Sean cooked a major breakfast and finished watching the first of many movies throughout our stay.

Uncle Ed upon our arrival

Soon Sean and I were out shooting his semi-automatic 12 gauge at some empty booze bottles. After that we cracked some beers and brushed the snow off his "sled," finding it wouldn't start. Sean decided the spark plugs were the culprit, and 30 minutes later all three had been replaced. Still, only one cylinder was firing, so we drank a beer and decided to give up.

Frustration meets Sean and myself with cold hands and a broken snowmobile

Having already shot guns and no sled to ride, Sean did not relent being a great entertainer. Luckily, his entertainment center included surround sound and a loud subwoofer, which he demonstrated by playing jets flying over Nick Cage in The Rock, so we decided to crack a beer and watch the whole film.

Good viddles: Sean prepares some fried Crappie to munch on during one of our film screenings

Later on in the day, the four of us drove to a nearby lake to meet some of the locals. I finally got a ride on a snowmobile, but with Sean driving I became very afraid and asked to head back about 90 seconds after he darted away from the icehouses we were stationed at. Ed and Timmer hung back and talked shop with the fishermen and their kids:

My Uncle Ed and Dad enjoying the icefishing scene on the lake

After riding and fishing, we all decided to head back and watch The Borne Supremacy, or one of those Jason Borne movies. I fell asleep and woke up to an amazing steak dinner with rosemary potatoes and beans. We all had a blast and I look forward to future partying with my family in the middle of nowhere.

Back at my folks house, the only thing that has changed is the size of Murphy, our dog. He's still a raging puppy who chews on everything and harrasses us as we try to sleep:

Gary Hardy's Nostalgic Rock n' Roll and Rusty the Bone in Memphis

Well, here I am in West Memphis, which is not in Tennessee but actually in Arkansas. I had a nice flight here from Columbia, SC, which was not exactly an exciting town but warm and sunny, which was nice. I spent the night eating ribs on Beale Street (in the real Memphis) at a place called Blues City, where Gary Hardy and the Memphis 2 entertained us bored tourists dining on the best barbecue I've ever had. He once actually owned Sun Records, claims Carl Perkins kept him alive, and is currently friends and neighbors with Jerry Lee Lewis, whom I'm sure we all figured passed away by now. It was amazing to watch him perform, not due to his uncanny impersonation of Johnny Cash, but because of the rich detail of rock's history he explained with slurred words between songs.

After checking in to my room, I headed across I-55 to Southland Park Gaming & Racing where I won 50 bucks playing Blackjack before trying my luck at my first dog race. I lost about $7 but had two ice cold Budweisers in wax paper cups before heading home to my hotel room. The dog races are exactly the same as horse races minus the jockeys and plus the bone the greyhounds chase they call Rusty. The bone cruises around the track on some sort of remote controlled arm as the announcer calls "Here comes Rusty!" and the dogs go crazy for 1/4 mile and all the gamblers yell and hollar and throw their tickets down. I didn't throw either of my two tickets down because I was betting about $2.50 on each race and wasn't that upset that my dogs never won.

Ringing in the New Year: Lessons Learned from Winter Vacation

Winter break began in Seattle, where I spent a few days cooped up at home watching the snow. While it was nice to sit in the warmth of my apartment, drinking wine and watching the flakes fall gracefully, the mood on the streets was different. The entire city shut down because Seattle's Department of Transportation, along with Mayor Nickels, are total idiots when it comes to how to deal with snowy roads, deciding to "wait for it to melt" and create "snow-packed instead of snow-free" roads. Cabs were out of service, trash removal was out of the question, and power outages were a problem for much of the city.

Seattle's Snowstorm of 2008 from out my apartment window

My homecoming in Minneapolis was well received. One night a bunch of the boys got together and headed to Babe's in Lakeville, along with our moms and dads. The dance floor was empty for a long while until more drinks were ordered. Soon, shy feet shuffled to the sounds of Michael Jackson and Dire Straits (Babe's also hosted a class of '89 reunion that night) and Lakeville's first annual father-mother-son mixer was born.

Me, my dad, and Brock's mom dancing at Babe's

Before long I was heading to Wisconsin for a few days of drinking, eating, dancing and shooting guns with the good ole boys. It was great to get back to my parents' cabin and enjoy a couple of days in the peace of the wilderness:

Ryan and Adam loading our weapons for the hunt

The carnage from a days shootin'

Lounging in the kitchen at the cabin

I could go on to describe the rest of my trip, but it wouldn't be much different. New Year's was a fine time partying down with chums at a nice little place in Loring Park called Nick & Eddie. But not much to say besides "we partied a lot and had a great time."

Minneapolis is as beautiful as ever, even though the wind is cold and the snow has buried us all in another Winter of waiting for Spring. Nice to get inside among friends and warm up. There is something about these winters when we're all inside with no other choice; I think everyone goes a bit crazy. But the cabin fever is shared and it bonds us together closer than those who spend the season thawing in the South could ever understand. And to survive it, when windows finally open and flip-flops are dug out of the closet; that is what makes this town worth living in year-round.

But somehow, toward the end of my winter vacation, I am eager to get back on the road. To dart around the country and be alone in a strange restaurant reading a book in some city I've never been to helps me gain perspective on where I've been and what's to come. I've learned that I'm too old to sleep past noon and too young to go to bed before 10pm. That a Saturday night spent quiet is not always a bad thing. And neither is work. So here I sit, 5am on Tuesday morning, reflecting in the dark.