Todd Swank

April 27, 2025

Watching the Wolves Beat the Odds Again

Todd Swank's Diary Entry for April 27, 2025

On Tuesday, we had a crew from Arbor Barber come out to take down three of our backyard trees before Mother Nature got any more funny ideas. After already having two trees crash down and turn our property into a demolition derby, we figured it was time to stop rolling the dice. It wasn’t easy pulling the trigger—mainly because tree removal costs roughly the same as sending a kid to college—but these guys crushed it. They navigated around the hot tub, gazebo, fences, and everything else we like to pretend makes our yard "nice," and somehow didn't wreck a thing. Professional, hardworking, and they cleaned up so well it looked like the trees just packed up and left on their own.

It’s crazy how much debris three trees can leave behind. They look so beautiful when they’re standing tall — but once they hit the ground, it’s a whole different story. Miss Sheri’s the real winner here, though. This fall, there’s going to be a lot fewer leaves trying to stage a hostile takeover of our yard.

Thursday night we hit up the Vikings NFL Draft Party at US Bank Stadium — because if there's one thing Minnesota fans know how to do, it's celebrate like champions even when we're very much not. They promised players, prizes, and plenty of chances to pretend this is the year it all turns around. And you know what? For a few hours, it actually felt like it might. That's the real magic of purple Kool-Aid season and I love to keep drinking it up!

Luke and Avery joined us for the party, and we jumped into the chaos immediately. Everywhere you turned, there were Vikings legends, sports anchors shouting over each other, and the draft broadcast blaring from every speaker like a giant purple tornado. It was loud, a little overwhelming, and exactly the kind of mess we love getting swept up in.

One of our favorite parts of these events is grabbing quick photos with the players. Even though we’re just blips in their night, they’re always incredibly nice about it. We got to meet Harrison Phillips, who’s been a beast on the D-line and even better off the field with his charity work, and Josh Metellus, one of the breakout stars of the defense last year. Absolute class acts, both of them.

Another highlight was meeting Brian Asamoah, who couldn’t have been nicer. He shook each of our hands, asked our names, and made us feel like we weren’t just the next faces in line—which, given he probably met a few hundred people that night, is seriously impressive. That being said, if I ever bump into him again, he better remember my name... or at least pretend really convincingly.

When we walked up to Vikings legend Pat Williams, I’ll be honest — he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. And honestly, when you're a three-time Pro Bowler, one of the anchors of the legendary "Williams Wall," and spent years terrorizing NFL offenses, you’ve earned the right to be a little grumpy at a draft party. He was still kind enough to sign a poster I set down on the table, even though I wasn’t intending for him to sign it — it still had the plastic wrap on it, so now I basically own a piece of garbage with Pat Williams' signature on it. Still totally worth it to grab this photo!

I’ll admit, sometimes at these events I’m just shaking hands and smiling without a clue who we’re meeting. Blake Cashman? No problem — absolute stud last season, leading the Vikings with 112 tackles and 4.5 sacks. Levi Drake Rodriguez? I’ll be honest, I had never heard of him — turns out he’s a young defensive tackle drafted in the 7th round in 2024. Which makes sense, because if you're a defensive tackle trying to make the roster, you’re basically invisible until you start pancaking quarterbacks in real time. But with a cowboy hat like that, you just assume greatness and move along before he uses you as a tackling dummy.

Friday night, Miss Sheri and I made our way to Target Center to watch the Minnesota Timberwolves take on the Lakers in Game 3. The place was absolutely packed and buzzing like a beehive someone just whacked with a stick. We were fired up to be there, cheering our Wolves and hoping to witness a little history — and judging by the energy in the building, we weren’t the only ones thinking something special might be brewing.

Going into Game 3, the national media wasn’t exactly subtle about it — LeBron James (widely anointed the GOAT) and the Lakers were supposed to roll the Timberwolves. The experts said Minnesota wouldn’t have an answer for the Lakers' playoff experience, or for LeBron flipping the “Playoff Mode” switch. But somebody forgot to tell the Wolves. After shocking everyone by stealing Game 1 in Los Angeles, Minnesota had already made it clear: this wasn’t going to be the script the rest of the country had already written.

As if LeBron wasn’t enough, we also had Luka Doncic to deal with — the same guy who crushed the Wolves’ playoff run last year and somehow ended up on the Lakers with a whole lot of drama attached. Wolves fans hadn’t forgotten. Beating the Lakers would be sweet. Beating Luka would be even sweeter.

We couldn’t be prouder of how the Timberwolves have stepped up this season — especially Anthony Edwards. After making his first All-NBA team and earning serious MVP chatter, Ant has looked every bit like the future of the league. When the Wolves traded away Karl-Anthony Towns, we were nervous. But this team didn’t just survive — they got better. Over the past couple of months, they've played some of the best, grittiest basketball we’ve ever seen, and it's been an absolute blast to witness. Watching Anthony Edwards put this team on his back has been everything we hoped for — and honestly, way more fun than we dared to dream.

Right before tipoff, I had one of those "what are the odds?" moments when Pete Baillos sat down literally right in front of me. Pete and I grew up a few houses apart back in Mason City, Iowa — went to elementary school, middle school, and part of high school together — and I hadn’t seen him in probably 40 years. It was awesome to reconnect, even if we didn’t have a ton of time to dive into four decades of life updates between commercial breaks. Turns out, reminiscing about your childhood during playoff basketball is harder than it looks.

The Timberwolves didn’t just beat the Lakers in Game 3 — they outmuscled, out-hustled, and out-dreamed them. Jaden McDaniels turned into prime Jordan with a career playoff-high 30 points while playing defense like a guy who didn’t get the memo he was supposed to be tired. Anthony Edwards did Anthony Edwards things — 29 points, 8 rebounds, 8 assists, and just enough swagger to rattle an entire city. LeBron went nuclear for a stretch ("shooting from Yucatan," as Ant put it), but even the GOAT couldn’t save them when it mattered. Meanwhile, Luka Doncic looked like he needed a nap and a Gatorade. Final score: Wolves 116, Lakers 104. Series lead: ours. Target Center: absolute bedlam. Wolves fans: starting to believe this might actually be our year.

The fish are spawning in the outlet between Spring Lake and Prior Lake just down the street from our house, which means one thing — it’s basically all-you-can-eat buffet season for the birds of prey. We’ve been spotting eagles everywhere lately, and let’s be honest — nothing gets us more fired up than watching bald eagles flex on everyone like they own the place. Which, let’s face it, they pretty much do.

This one is a little different — a juvenile bald eagle! We don’t spot these younger ones nearly as often as the adults, but every once in a while, one pops up trying to figure out how to be the next king of the neighborhood. Watching them grow up alongside the full-blown legends just makes it even cooler to be out here right now. Spring’s got the fish jumping, the birds showing off, and a world that feels wide open again — a pretty good reminder that it’s a great time to be alive.

@toddswank I survived the meteor—so now I hang with a moose and a bear. AI video creators, this is your sign to experiment. #klingai #aivideo #nextgencontent ♬ On Top Of The World - Imagine Dragons

@toddswank BREAKING: Man narrowly escapes volcano eruption caught on camera. Not real—but wow. This was made with the free version of Runway ML’s AI image-to-video tool. I’m seriously impressed. #runwayml #aivideo #genai #volcano #aiexplosion #futureofcontent #tiktokai #visualeffects #cinematicai #madebyai ♬ Adventurer - Lux-Inspira

@toddswank The Vikings Draft Party is now live at US Bank Stadium! #nfl #draft #minnesota #viking ♬ NFL on Fox (Trap Remix) - Trap Remix Guys

@toddswank Let’s go Timberwolves! #Wolvesin5 #lakers #timberwolves #nbaplayoffs ♬ Let's Go Crazy - Prince

@toddswank Timberwolves Game 3 Hype Video! #timberwolves #lakers #game3 #nba ♬ original sound - Todd Swank

April 20, 2025

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.

We had a really nice Easter with the kids and Grandma Linda—starting with a meaningful service at Avery and Abby’s church, followed by a sunny brunch at Legends Golf Club. It’s always special when we can all be together, share a few laughs, and the fact that nobody spilled anything on their dress shirts, we’re calling it a holiday win.

@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

April 13, 2025

Trekking the 9 Mile Creek Trail Boardwalk

Todd Swank's Diary Update for April 13, 2025

We’ve been following our beloved Timberwolves all season, and somehow—despite the occasional fourth-quarter meltdown and our franchise history screaming “not again”—they’re heading into the playoffs with actual expectations. Anthony Edwards looks like he was built in a lab to shut people up, and Rudy Gobert is still dominating. I took this photo a couple weeks ago. With one game left, we’re either locking in a solid seed or free-falling into the play-in tournament, where Minnesota sports dreams traditionally go to die. But hey, this year feels different. Which is exactly what I say every year, right before crying into my Wolves sweatshirt.

We stopped by to visit Grandma Linda on Tuesday night. She’s been dealing with some medical stuff lately and has a new procedure lined up next month, so yeah—it’s a little stressful seeing someone you love having to battle through that. But true to form, she still has her spark, her sass, and that warm presence that somehow makes everyone else feel okay, even when she’s the one going through it. She keeps pushing forward like the tough little fighter she is. If you’ve got a moment, please send some prayers or good vibes her way. She's earned 'em.

Wednesday night I met up with my Oracle colleague Steve Domingo for dinner at Crave in the Mall of America. Steve’s from Atlanta and had never seen the MOA before, so walking him through a four-story mall with a full-blown amusement park in the middle was like giving someone the deluxe tour of capitalism. We had some great sushi, shared a few laughs, and talked shop just enough to justify it as a work dinner. Always fun showing off a Minnesota landmark that isn’t covered in ice or shaped like a fish.

Thursday night we got together with the kids for dinner at Northern Taphouse in Lakeville—one of our favorite ways to spend an evening. We’d met up earlier for tuxedo fittings for Avery and Abby’s wedding, which is definitely sneaking up on us. Great food, even better company, and no one was pretending they’re too busy to answer group texts. And yes—the wings delivered.

Trekking the 9 Mile Creek Trail boardwalk might sound intense, but don’t let the name fool you—we clocked in at a proud 1.5 miles, and I felt every glorious step. This was our official return to semi-active living, and Blue was thrilled to be back on patrol, sniffing everything like the trail owed him money. The ice is finally gone, the mud’s only ankle-deep, and for a brief moment, it actually felt like spring in Minnesota. Until it doesn’t again. But hey—moment seized.

Back during COVID, we got into the habit of exploring trails around the Twin Cities—our version of adventure when the world shut down. It turned out to be one of the few bright spots from that whole bizarre stretch of life, and we’ve been meaning to get back into it now that spring is sort of showing up again. The boardwalks are my favorite part—gliding over the marsh like seasoned hikers while safely protected from Minnesota’s deadliest wildlife: frogs and turtles.

One of our favorite parts of hiking is bird watching—we're always on the lookout for something rare or unexpected. So imagine our shock when we spotted the incredibly elusive mallard... again. Peeking out from his not-at-all-hidden hideout like he’s part of some secret duck surveillance program. Majestic, common, and somehow always acting like we’re the ones intruding.

A little farther down the trail, we spotted another duck—this one standing proudly on what I think was a muskrat lodge. I’m no wildlife biologist, but I’m pretty sure ducks and muskrats have a symbiotic relationship: the duck stands guard while the muskrat sleeps, and in return, the muskrat agrees not to comment on how often the duck poops on his roof.

On the way home, we made a quick detour to check out Bird Island—one of our favorite boat spots during the summer. It was absolutely packed, and not in the “spring break vacation” kind of way… more like a feathery Tinder convention. The birds were clearly gearing up for the next generation, doing whatever awkward courtship rituals are required to keep the circle of life awkwardly flapping forward. Nature’s beautiful, chaotic, and apparently very much in the mood.

It’s always an impressive lineup—egrets, cormorants, and blue herons all packed into the same scraggly island like some weird bird version of a condo association. We always wonder how they pick their nests. Do they get the same one as last year? Do some get annoyed that their spot faces the inside trees while others scored waterfront views? And you have to wonder—do they cluster by species out of preference, or is Bird Island quietly hosting nature’s most passive-aggressive segregation policy? Either way, it’s clear not every bird is thrilled with their neighbor.

My brain spits out random ideas like a malfunctioning popcorn machine.

Most are gone before I finish my coffee.

But this one?

It stuck around long enough to build a fake headquarters using AI.

Swank Ventures isn’t real (yet).

But AI makes it so easy to take a silly idea and turn it into something that looks like a million-dollar dream.

Sometimes I chase the dream.

Sometimes I just enjoy seeing what could be.

Either way, it keeps me inspired.

#SwankVentures #AI #CreativityUnlocked

April 6, 2025

Swank Signs with the Minnesota Timberwolves

Todd Swank's Diary Entry for April 6, 2025

Tuesday night was the Minnesota Timberwolves’ “Open House,” which sounds like a casual welcome event until you realize it’s also code for “please come re-sign your season tickets before we start calling your emergency contacts.” We’re trimming down from a half-season to a quarter-season plan—not because we’re cutting back, but because we’re leveling up. Fewer games, better seats, and prime positioning near the Wolves bench. It’s the perfect trade: less time in traffic, more time awkwardly locking eyes with professional athletes while I casually point a zoom lens at their pores. Dream big.

Luke and Avery joined us to help pick out our new seats—because nothing screams family bonding like debating sightlines and cupholder proximity. They love the Wolves as much as Miss Sheri and I do, which proves that poor judgment can, in fact, be hereditary. Abby couldn’t make it—apparently flying a plane full of strangers across the country is more important than watching her future in-laws fake being courtside scouts. Still, any time we can drag the boys into our delusions of basketball relevance, we count it as quality time.

As a thank-you for attending, we got the rare chance to step onto the Timberwolves court and launch a few free throws. I did my best, which is a polite way of saying the ball mostly explored the concept of gravity. Miss Sheri and Avery, on the other hand, actually hit shots—proving once again that if there’s ever a family shootout, I am strictly there for comic relief. The sales team politely smiled while I bricked my dreams, which felt generous considering they probably see this kind of delusion hourly.

We also got a tour of the player’s locker room and the ultra-exclusive lounges for courtside ticket holders—basically a luxury bunker where rich people hydrate with craft cocktails and pretend to care about the second quarter. The walls leading in are lined with giant photos of the team, including our guy Anthony Edwards, who somehow manages to smirk like he knows we’re just there for the free look. It’s a shrine to greatness, and I gotta say—it really added to the full experience of pretending we were part of the organization… right up until security gently reminded us that the courtside bar wasn't actually included with our quarter-season upgrade.

Thursday night we hit up the Crooked Pint again to play bingo with the Walters. Last week, our table absolutely dominated—won four out of eight games and left feeling like Vegas royalty. This week? Right back to the Todd Swank standard of gambling outcomes: a whole lot of confidence, zero payout, and just enough beer to convince ourselves we were close.

Friday night we met up with some of our Euchre crew at Copper Pint in Shakopee. That’s right—Crooked Pint on Thursday, Copper Pint on Friday. At this rate, we’re just working our way through the Periodic Table of Bars. No word yet on when we’re hitting Nickel Pint, but if they serve loaded tots and tolerate loud laughter, we’ll be there.

Spring in Minnesota is like a long con. One day it’s 72 and the whole state collectively decides winter is over. The next, we wake up to three inches of spite on the driveway. It’s just enough snow that someone should probably fire up the snowblower—but instead, we all stand around pretending it'll melt by noon, like it’s a test of willpower. And honestly? It usually does… just not before making sure everyone’s socks are wet and spirits are broken.

Blue was thrilled to see the lake finally ice-free when I took him down there Saturday morning. The water's still in the forties, which would send most creatures running for thermal gear, but not this guy. If I’ve got the Chuckit! in hand, he’s launching himself in like it’s mid-July and he’s 3 years old again. Of course, by the next morning, our brave aquatic hero was moving like he’d played all four quarters and overtime. He struggled to get up, gave me the “worth it” look, and waited by the door in case I even thought about throwing it again.

I’ve been having a blast messing around with the new image generation tools in ChatGPT. I saw someone create an action figure mock-up, and naturally, I had to try making my own—complete with a cruise ship, Vikings hat, and that blog post accessory I never leave home without. I even asked it to pay special attention to the arms, which… well, let’s just say version 1.0 gave it its best shot. Maybe future updates will understand that “shortarmguy” wasn’t just a clever domain name—it’s also a design spec.

@toddswank 7 rules of life - She won a autographed picture of Terrance Shannon Jr for making the free throw! #timberwolves #inspiration #7rules #life ♬ original sound - Todd Swank