Time to grrrr... and brrrrr... it

It's now been about 48 hours since our chronic case of hearts-ripped-out-of-us flared up again at the hands of the Minnesota franchise of the National Football League. Just when it seemed like more than three decades of suffering might come to an end we get face planted into the concrete of reality while at the same time taking one in the ol' breadbasket and/or nether region. It was both for me.

I'm vowing from this day forward that my official time of mourning is over and it's time to move on to bigger and hopefully better things like gazing out over the piles of snow and ice that have conglomerated in my yard. Is it just me or does there seem to be some petrification taking place in those banks of the permanent variety. Maybe we are entering a new Ice Age.

One good thing to hang my hat on is the fact as I was leaving work last night I noticed my path on the way home was now being lit naturally instead of the artificial glow from the street lights as sunset inches its way back to a more acceptable time. Nothing more depressing than going into work with the sun barely up and driving home with it nothing but a distant memory in the western sky.

Hopefully we've only got two more months of walking gingerly over every inch of ice covered surface, not knowing if/when the laws of physics will suddenly be broken all at once. And at that moment, one misstep will lead to a cartoon-like tumble in some back alley where I've fallen and can't get up and no one can hear me until it's too late and my backside has become one with the frozen mass that covers what I suspect contains asphalt or concrete in the depths below that.

More good news, someone reported pitchers and catchers report in about a month, meaning the boys of summer will be at it again and there's nothing that warms my heart more knowing that a bunch of multi-millionaires playing a kids' game will be basking under the hot Florida sun while I sit here contemplating fleece or extra hoodie in my daily preparation for grinning and bearing the elements.

Maybe it would be easier for me to reconsider putting that Vikings game behind me ... stupid 12 men on the field!