We had a bit of snow this morning in the thriving metropolis that is the Twin Cities of Minneapolis-St. Paul. I live on a relatively busy street, but for perhaps 30 full seconds this morning everything in the universe aligned to find me standing out on the stoop of my apartment building in the silence of a snowy morning.
No cars drove by. No one said anything. And I just leaned back against the wall and took everything in and felt the muscles my shoulders un-knot and I thought: "The problem with you, boy-o, if you have any problems at all, is that this is the most peaceful you have felt in years."
I need a vacation.
Sure, a cop got shot in Kari's neighborhood, but the top story here in God's Chosen Frozen Land is that Randy Moss has been traded.
There's disagreement as to whether this is an intelligent move or the dumbest sports trade since Babe Ruth went to the Yankees. I tend to be on the side that says it can be a good move. Moss is being shipped off to the Raiders, which will continue to suck as long as Al Davis draws breath, and we have the chance to pick up some defensive players. Of course, because we're Minnesota, I'm sure it will get all screwed up so as to create the worst possible outcome.
Good name for a band: The Marmalade Accuracy