It's Cold Out There

As if the precipitous drop in temperature wasn't enough of an unneeded indication one only take a look at the state of my house- in desperate need of a fall cleaning- to realize that as the man sang, "summer days and summer nights are gone..." And like a house in disarray the newsletter too has a few leftovers to use or lose. We have after all if nothing else on this page week after week proven that no life detail is too small or too trivial to print.

First a few unused notes from last week's trip to California: Before the first night's Dylan concert my sister and my friend Spunky were chatting. When the conversation turned to me both agreed that the term "eccentric" fits me well. When I got back home and was telling Max's catsitter (who was conned by the combination of irresistibly sad yet charming eyes and amusing yet annoying howl of the little guy to be fed canned cat food) about my trip she made the comment that my friend Spunky seemed even more "uptight" than I am. I may be wrong, I'm often known to be, but I don't exactly feel either term is an accurate fit.

I will admit that while working in downtown Minneapolis for the month that I have noticed I tend to stick out among the typical crowd that wanders through the skyway. I'm not exactly one of the beautiful people sharply dressed. Nope I'm the guy with the odd looking month and a half growth of hair on top of my noggin and bright red hooded Cheapo sweatshirt. I also have noticed that the kindly Minneapolitans don't exactly share my love for Homer Simpson. As I get off the elevator I leave everybody with the classic Homer signoff: "So long suckers..." I have yet to find a group of boxed in strangers that finds that funny.

Another thing I noticed while out west: Law school students sometimes don't even have the time to buy toilet paper. 'Nuf said.

Speaking of Homerisms one leftover complaint from the remarkable Twins' season was having to try to follow the team through its radio coverage. I don't have cable television and trying to keep track of what is going on in real time on the Internet via a slow modem connection was not very convenient. So I returned to the radio home of the Twins for the past 42 years, WCCO-AM (830- the Good Neighbor). I stopped listening years back because like my mother, I couldn't stand announcer John Gordon. The man blabbers on and on about everything except for the game going on in front of him. Tune in during the middle of an inning during the middle of a game and try to figure out what the score is- go on, I dare ya. But thankfully we are constantly kept informed of the Double A matchup between Beloit and Durham.

Plus Mr. Gordon and his sidekick Dan Gladden seem to think their listeners are also watching along on TV as they often groan over a play or an umpire's call, then stay silent as they apparently watch the replays all the while leaving us blind listeners clueless as to what is going on. Arggg!!!

Driving home listening to the Twins' post game shows I could have, would have, forgiven Gordon if only he had followed my lead. He signs off every night with a most enthusiastic "So long... everybody!!!" If only he was a Simpsons' fan and correctly completed the phrase just one time.

So my return flight from Berkeley landed a half hour early. I learned this was not a good thing as we sat on the plane waiting for our gate to open. Just as we were finally pulling up to our gate the pilot announced he had a score to game five of the Twins/Angels' series- the Twins were up 5-3 in the seventh. Oh boy, I thought, I might get home in time to watch the end of the game. But as I walked through the airport I was stunned (sort of) that every TV at every gate was tuned in to a football game. And it wasn't even the Vikings but the Rams! What is with this town?!

Turns out I was lucky not to witness the end. And now I only have eleven days until Mr. Dylan makes his way to the Twin Cities (but who's counting?). I may be the only one with this particular affliction (a symptom of uptight eccentricity?) but does anyone else notice that the days following attendance at a particularly inspiring concert or movie or Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode that things seem a bit discombobulated and trivial and a shade meaningless? Is day to day life about getting by, doing what we have to do to afford to attend other enlightening or inspiring moments? And if so, pray tell me why that is so?

But enough about me. A kitty beckons and craves attention so I predictably leave you with the appropriate sign off: So long suckers...