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.