So since it's spring, and getting out in the canoe right now is illegal (and also suicide), I have been sitting at home, slowly but surely losing my mind. Piece by piece it leaves me, fluttering away with frightening regularity as the seconds melt away, never to return. I wonder what was going through the minds of the first explorers, who came upon the forks of these two disgusting rivers in the middle of this flat, lifeless hellhole and said, "Let's build a town right here."

In order to cope with this annual spring/sanity paradox, I've been scanning old pictures from 'back in the day.' I made a small album (12 photos) of a kayak trip to Namakan Lake back in 2000, one of the last trips I ever took with the Boy Scouts before girls, sports, and flying airplanes took over my life. I never made it to Eagle, but then, you don't get very far if you only do the fun stuff. So I guess it's a trade?

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