Easter in Minnesota: Bring a Coat
Todd Swank's Diary Entry for April 20, 2025
We spent Sunday at Target Center watching the Timberwolves close out the regular season with a 116–105 win over the Jazz, locking in the 6th seed in the West and setting up a playoff matchup with the Lakers. Anthony Edwards wrapped up a record-breaking season by dropping 43 in that game, because of course he did. Then, in Game 1 of the playoffs, the Wolves came out swinging—beating the Lakers 117–95 behind a balanced attack that included 25 points from Jaden McDaniels, 23 from Naz Reid, and a near triple-double from Ant. If this is how the playoffs start, we might need to recalibrate our expectations… and dare I say it, our hope.
Luke joined me for the game, and while a lot of our friends still treat the Timberwolves like a cosmic prank, our family’s all in. We’ve followed them through the highs, the lows, and the annual "maybe next year" speeches—but this season actually feels different. Being in that arena with a packed crowd and playoff energy in the air was electric. We’re fired up to follow them through the postseason, hopes sky high and fingers crossed they don’t give us a brand-new way to experience heartbreak.
Alex Rodriguez and Marc Lore are officially in charge now, after finally prying the team away from Glen Taylor’s icy billionaire grip. The deal took years, lawsuits, and probably a few backroom handshake deals, but it’s done. Now A-Rod and Lore are courtside regulars, usually surrounded by people standing, clapping, and looking invested—while A-Rod sits there like he’s waiting for bottle service. You’d think owning a playoff team might fire a guy up, but apparently, being a gazillionaire means never having to pretend you’re impressed.
On Wednesday, I had lunch with my old Oracle coworker Ross Thompson at Turtle’s in Shakopee, where we instantly slipped back into our routine of work war stories, mutual friend gossip, and just enough sarcasm to qualify as therapy. It’s been a year since we last met up, but we didn’t miss a beat—like muscle memory for middle-aged tech guys. Can’t wait to do it again in 2026 when our calendars accidentally align again and we both remember how to text.
Wednesday night brought us to the Bourbon Butcher in Farmington, where Miss Sheri and I met up with her college buddy Cathy Klimek and her husband Jeff. We bonded over brisket, beer, and the universal truth that any friendship forged in dorms and decades past somehow gets better with barbecue. It was one of those rare dinners where the conversation never lagged, the food didn’t need apologizing for, and nobody pretended they had to get up early.
Thursday night took us to Edina for dinner and mini golf with our good friends Portia and Doc Vogt. Portia’s a tax accountant, so this was basically her version of New Year’s Eve—April 15 had passed, the calculators were off, and she was ready to celebrate with people who didn’t want to talk about deductions. We’re always happy to serve as the post-tax-season decompression crew. It’s the least we can do for someone who’s spent months crawling through spreadsheets while we were mostly just crawling toward happy hour.
We finally made it to Puttshack in Edina, a place I’ve been itching to try since I heard someone describe it as “mini golf with a glow-up and a software upgrade.” It didn’t disappoint. Every ball is tracked in real time with sensors, so you get bonus points for things like trivia answers, landing trick shots, or—my personal favorite—just not completely choking under pressure. We only played 9 holes, but the mix of strategy, chaos, and unexpected bonus games had me hooked. It’s like regular mini golf, but without the part where you lose your ball in a murky pond and question your life choices. We’ll definitely be back for a rematch.
Friday night brought us to the Shakopee VFW for a round of Music Bingo—basically Name That Tune with a drinking problem. The rules were simple: hear a song, shout guesses across the table like lunatics, and mark off the titles for a shot at whatever prizes were laying under the bar. We rolled in with our Euchre crew, and Nate was clearly feeling spicy—though thanks to a little digital editing, the final photo plays way nicer with Grandma’s church group.
After bingo, we wandered over to the Shakopee Legion for some karaoke and bumped into local legend Tommy WaWa—he’s got the stage presence of Sinatra, even if his setlist leans more dive bar than Rat Pack. We belted out a couple of rowdy classics with him before calling it a night, because nothing wraps up a Friday quite like shouting lyrics with friends who pretend you’re actually on key.
We spotted this blue heron during one of our walks, and the moment felt like a nature documentary—until he ditched the water and flew up into a tree like a moody teenager avoiding chores. I tried to snap a clear photo, but between the branches and his attitude, I think he knew exactly how to stay just blurry enough to mess with me.
I knew it was Easter weekend the moment I pulled into the driveway and spotted this little guy posted up by the porch like he owned the place. Naturally, I let Blue outside to see if he wanted to make a new friend. As usual, Blue interpreted “friend” to mean “furry intruder,” and the bunny responded by disappearing faster than my motivation on Monday mornings.
@toddswank KlingAI is pretty amazing for creating videos. Imagine what this technology will be able to do in 5 years! #aivideo #klingai #meteor ♬ original sound - InsanePatient2
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