Using your best Dick Vitale announcing voice, let me hear ya say "It's race week, baby. Time for Tim Wilkerson to be a PTP, a prime time player, baby!"

It's finally here, and in 48 hours I'll be landing at John Wayne Airport to officially begin the 2010 season. How about that!

We wrapped up the '09 season on November 15. The next day, we dressed up all nice and pretty and attended the banquet in L.A. On the 17th, I flew home to officially start the off-season, and now here we are. 83 days after I got home from Pomona, I'm finally heading back out there again.

I have to say that NHRA has done a terrific job building the excitement for this year's opener, and everyone is excited about kicking off the year in a big way. With it being the 50th anniversary of the Winternationals, there's plenty to get excited about, but all the neat "stuff" in the world wouldn't have anyone chomping at the bit if the word wasn't effectively spread, and from feature stories to Twitter tweets, everyone involved has pitched in to make sure the racing world knows that this weekend will be special.

And (fingers crossed, wood being knocked upon, breath being held) right now it looks like Mother Nature is going to play nice for us. We all know weather forecasts and how they can change, so I grabbed a screen shot of this one to lock it in place, and I'll opt to stick with it as the official version, which cannot be changed or altered in any way. It's going to be a little cool, but the cars are going to love it, and if the cars love it I imagine the fans will love it, too.

I successfully avoided even looking at any weather predictions until today, because the reality of meteorology suggests anything beyond a couple of days, maybe three at the most, is mostly conjecture. But, like I said, I'm digging this forecast so it's the one I'm sticking with.

In preparation for the race, we had Tim on a conference call with the media today, which was orchestrated by Ford Racing and my esteemed colleague Susan Pollack, who handles the PR for the Tasca team and Ford. Susan carried the ball on this deal, so my job was to make sure Tim knew when to call in and what number to dial. It's a good thing I have years of experience. Just to be on the safe side, I emailed him all the info last week, then sent him a text this morning, followed by a phone call about 20 minutes before the call. Piece of cake... Six years of college didn't go to waste.

My other must-do morning project was to put out the first of what will be 23 different pre-race press releases this season. I've been doing this a long time, and I'd need a calculator to figure out how many of these preview stories I've written in my career, but I'm also not afraid to admit it's still fun to send them out and then see them pop up on various websites, like little flowers growing from the seeds I've planted. If you ever stop enjoying the sight of your work in print, you probably don't need to be in PR or journalism, I'd say...

Of course, it's only when I see my stories published that I tend to spot sentences I wish I could change or, even worse, the always- dreaded typos. I've recently taken to printing out my press releases to proof them in hard-copy form, because the mistakes are just far too invisible on the computer screen. Your brain simply sees the words and letters as it wants to see them... Then, when you click on NHRA.com and see your story in the Team Reports section, the mistakes jump out at you like they're backlit with neon. How did I miss that??? Of course, many years ago Phil Burgess got accustomed to receiving notes from me with the subject line "Mr. Typo Strikes Again" as I forward the fixes for the mistakes I'd earlier created.

Tomorrow, I'll actually start to think about packing and organizing my brief case, which has sat mostly undisturbed behind my desk for a grand majority of the winter. This will also be the first time I'll get to use my suitcase with one of the new embroidered bag tags that were sent to me by Scott The Pilot, so thanks again STP! Hope all is well with you, flying the big jets for Korean Air...

My day started in a less-than-fun manner, to say the least, because the first thing I had to do when I got out of bed was bundle up to go outside, in order to scrape the driveway for the third time since this snowstorm started. Talk about a rude awakening... Since it's supposed to keep snowing until tomorrow afternoon, I'm guessing I might be out there pushing snow around a few more times, as well. It's been coming down non-stop since yesterday afternoon, but it's such a light and fluffy snow it's easy to move out of the way, so the best way to attack this is to just keep knocking it down, every inch or so.

This morning, the goal was to quickly clear the drive so that I could drive Barbara to the airport, for a business trip to Fort Myers, Fla. Hey, she has to deal with New York, Boston, Chicago, and other cold- weather cities too much, so good for her to get a chance to go warm up for a few days. It may be work, but just being in Florida (even indoors most of the day) is still enough to help you recharge your batteries a little. The roads were a bit of a mess as we drove to MSP during rush hour, but everyone was being careful and we got her there in time. The most surprising part of the deal is that her flight wasn't delayed too badly, and she should be on the ground down there by now...

Despite all the snow, I had a bunch of errands to run today and as I was driving home I purposefully drove a little out of my way to pass through a Woodbury neighborhood called Pinehurst, just to admire the beautiful winter scenery. My guess is that Pinehurst was probably developed in the mid or late 80s, but what's obvious is that the builders did a great job of erecting the homes within the trees, because the area is an absolute forest of pines. Too often, developers will come in and simply level everything, then plant maples or pines again after the construction is done, leaving the neighborhood looking pretty barren until those trees grow up and fill out. From what I can tell, this neighborhood was built far more carefully, and the mature pines still have a forest feel when you drive through...

Oh hey... If you're coming to the Winternationals this weekend, and you're bringing your spouse or significant other on Sunday, don't forget it's Valentine's Day. One of my errands today involved a stop at the local Hallmark store...

Did you watch the Super Bowl last night? My guess would be you did, considering I just saw the news flash that this year's game was viewed by as many as 114 million people, which made it the most-watched show in the history of American television, just edging the final episode of "Joanie Loves Chachi." Or maybe it was "M*A*S*H." It was one of those two...

Not having a horse in this race, I was more intrigued by the possibility of the score matching a certain set of numbers Barbara and I both had in a little (perfectly legal) pool put together by Chris Cunningham, who is also perfectly legal, as far as I know. It was one of those totally random deals, where all you do is put your name in a few boxes and after all the boxes are filled in, random numbers are assigned to each row, both horizontally and vertically. Bing bang boom, one of my boxes was 0 for the Colts and 0 for the Saints, and since it's simply the final number in each team's score that counts, the 10-0 score at the end of the first quarter was profitable for me, in a totally legal way. Barbara then had a box that had a 7 for the Colts and a 6 for the Saints, and when the third quarter ended 17-16, she also grabbed a prize (donation). Between the two of us, we did okay but the really big (totally legal) prizes were for halftime and the final score, not the first and third quarters. We weren't that far off at the half, and for a moment or two there I actually thought I was going to get that one too, but there's no greed in this house because I think that's the first time I've ever won anything in one of these pools. Way to go, us!

Finally, today, I will leave you with a tale that simply elevates the level of fame enjoyed by a couple of feline characters here in our house...

I was on-line yesterday afternoon, reading some news at USA Today's website, when I spotted a blog about pets. The writer was snowed in by the east coast blizzard, so she asked her readers to contribute photos of how they were spending their Super Bowl weekend with their pets. She also promised to post the first 24 photos and stories that came in.

I grabbed the camera, caught Da Boyce in what is their standard sunny Sunday pose, all snuggled up together in a patch of sunshine on the living room floor, and fired it off. Minutes later, I got a quick note in reply, from the USA Today blogger, and moments after that Buster and Boofus were on the Web, proudly representing the cat world and Woodbury, Minn., in front of millions of USA Today on-line readers.

I'm waiting to hear from their agent soon, and I suspect we'll shortly be in negotiations for better treats and more of them. I know they want Dasani in their water dish, too, and they've made it clear that tap water is a total non-starter and not open for discussion.

My flight on Wednesday is first thing in the morning, so I doubt I'll be able to get anything done before late in the day, or perhaps Thursday morning, but I'll do my best.

Are you ready? Let's go racing!!!

Wilber, out!

Today's headline is one way to look at it, except I almost never looked forward to school starting. I always look forward to the season starting, though, but the one thing that makes this seem like the beginning of the school year is that you know just about everything in your life is about to change for a long stretch of time. Barbara and I will enjoy the weekend, do some shopping, further contemplate and investigate a renovation we're seriously considering here at the house, and then watch the Super Bowl. After that, it all starts...

One thing I clearly remember about my nine years at Mary Queen of Peace grade school in beautiful Webster Groves, Mo. was the way the first day of school smelled! Everyone had on brand new clothes, so even though we wore uniforms and all looked alike, that smell of all-new clothes permeated the school. I think it started to fade sometime after lunch and recess...

I probably ought to get out and buy a few new pairs of black slacks for the year, both because I need them and because maybe, just maybe, I'll get a whiff of that new apparel smell again. To be detected, the aroma from the slacks will have its work cut out for it, because we've decided to "recycle" our starting line shirts from last year and wear them again in 2010. With all the same sponsors returning, and with the grand majority of our shirts in perfectly fine condition, it didn't make much sense to produce new shirts just for the sake of doing it...

As I prepare for the start of the 2010 season I'm ahead of the game a little bit, with my Pomona preview press release already done and "in the can" (a movie reference, but I'm not sure where press releases go when they're done and "developed") so I'll put that out on Monday after I let it stew and sit there in my "Drafts" folder all weekend. I learned many years ago not to put out a preview press release any earlier than the Monday of race week, even if the week before is clear and there is no racing. The couple of times I thought I was getting a headstart by putting a story out on the previous Friday, I quickly discovered that many people don't actually, technically, carefully read every word I write (the horror!)

I might have specifically written that my driver is "really looking forward to the XYZ Nationals" on a date that was still very clearly a week away, in english words that were right there in black & white in the first paragraph, but by simply receiving a preview story near the end of a week, some people would just assume the race was that weekend. After I got a dozen emails wishing us luck on the wrong weekend, another batch saying "Oh wow, I didn't realize there was a race this week..." and a third large group of notes in which the writers attempted to correct my mistake by telling me I was obviously on crack because the race was actually the next week, I stopped putting anything out early.

So, other than maybe heading out to Macy's this weekend to check out some new slacks, or maybe up to DSW to see if I can find a new pair of black track shoes, I'm ready to go... That only tells me that I will, almost for sure, arrive in Pomona to discover I've forgotten something so elementary and necessary I won't be able to believe my own oversight. Nothing like checking into your hotel room, unpacking, and realizing you didn't bring any socks...

Had a great time last night, meeting up with Michael Karp for dinner and a hockey game. He arrived at Kincaid's just after Barbara and I took possession of our 5:15 reservation, and we dined on filet mignon while sharing a million laughs and some great stories. The first thing I wanted to hear, however, was everything Michael is up to, and it's fascinating what he does. When we met, he was working for the management group at Staples Center (where the L.A. Lakers and Kings play) and was basically the guy in charge of food and beverage. Since then, he went to work for Live Nation, then spent a little time with a private company that had plans to open a number of restaurants, but now he is acting as a consultant and working his tail off helping a client open a string of Toby Keith restaurants around the country.  One of them will be in a Minneapolis suburb called St. Louis Park, and he was in town to continue the supervision of that place, which should be opening this spring.

We did also talk about some of the "good old days" way back in 2003 when Michael put the Artisan deal together and his dad Arnie drove the car. Of course, later that year Arnie hurt his knee and couldn't drive, so we put Phil Burkart in the Artisan car for all of two races. Right after that race (which was in Brainerd), Johnny Gray drove the blue CSK car to a runner-up finish in Indy, but then decided to step down as the blue team driver. Like a baseball or hockey team calling up guys from the minor leagues and promoting guys into new starting positions, we moved Burkart over to the blue car and brought in Cory Lee to drive the Artisan car for us.

The best part of this story revolves around the Finals in Pomona that year... If you look up Cory Lee's career stats, you'll see that he has no NHRA national event victories. While that's technically true, he actually did have one, right in his hands, for about three seconds. It was Del against Cory, in the final round at Pomona, under the lights on a November Sunday, in the first and only match-up of two Worsham-owned cars in a final round. Del inexplicably fouled at the start, and that bright red light about blinded us when it came on. Cory's guys were already jumping around, and all of us were heading over to congratulate our teammates on a huge win for Mr. Lee and the Artisan team, when.... You got it. Cory crossed the center line. Ouch...

We took both cars to the Winner's Circle that night, to at least allow Cory and his guys the chance to enjoy the celebration despite the fact the trophy got away from them.

LOL, I got a funny note from blog reader Rich Venza, who noticed I had somehow work Karp, walleye, cats, and birds into the last blog... Help me doctor, I've got a terrible haddock...  Rim shot.

Hey, did you know that this weekend's Super Bowl will be the first ever to feature two teams that come from cities that have never had a Major League Baseball team?  I saw that on Twitter earlier, and it seemed correct to me, so I Googled that theme and validated it. Don't be confused, I realize the 1997 Super Bowl featured the Green Bay Packers (and Green Bay has obviously never had a big league team) and the New England Patriots, who play in Foxboro, Mass. (also never home to a big league team). But, the key there is that Foxboro is clearly part of the Boston metropolitan area. Plus, when the Patriots were formed, as part of the old AFL, they were the Boston Patriots. Just ask Geno Cappelletti and Babe Parilli.

Speaking of Twitter, it's become one of my favorite ways to get instant news these days. I only follow about 35 people or organizations on Twitter, preferring to keep my incoming tweets strictly in the news vein unless they are tweeted by specific people whose day-to-day stories I enjoy hearing. I leave Facebook for the gazillion "I just woke up" or "I'm having lunch now" updates from about 600 people I'm "friends" with over there.

On Twitter, I check it regularly because I mostly follow a bunch of sports writers and columnists, who will always tweet when they have posted a new important story with their newspaper or magazines. If you had kept an eye on Twitter last night, for instance, you could've found out that the Twins had signed "free agent" 2nd baseman Orlando Hudson, basically at the moment it happened! I also follow some carefully selected individuals, who almost always have something unique to post; people like Buzz Aldrin, Roz Savage (a fascinating woman who now has rowed, solo, across basically every ocean in the world), and astronaut TJ Creamer (who is currently tweeting from the international space station). There are a few athletes who are interesting tweeters as well, so I follow Twins pitcher Pat Neshek, Vikings Sidney Rice and Visanthe Shiancoe, and the absolutely hilarious Chad Ochocinco from the Cincinnati Bengals. On the racing side, I get all the tweets from NHRA's media department, Phil Burgess, Bob Tasca, Cory Mac, Brandon Bernstein, Ford Racing, John Force Racing, and a few others. Facebook is clearly social and informal, so I keep my Twitter content in the old Sgt. Joe Friday style: Just the facts, ma'am.

Hey, and how about our Twins! I'm not sure who spiked the water over there in their new offices at Target Field, but they've broken the mold on how they go about the off-season. Since we moved here, most of the "big moves" the Twins have made have simply been call-ups from their very productive minor league system, or low-dollar bargain-basement additions no one else wanted (who would then immediately show why no one else wanted them, once they got on the field). This year, they've gone aggressively after specific players who could fill some important needs, and actually outbid other teams for them. They've jumped their payroll from only about $65 million up to something closer to $100 million, which is still paltry compared to what the Yankees, Red Sox, Mets, and the other big spenders invest, but it's a huge improvement around here. They've got the town buzzing right now, I can tell you that, and a lot of fans are wondering if this is all a dream. If so, we don't want to wake up. Now, once they get Joe Mauer signed to a long-term deal, it's going to be a great time to be a Twins fan.

After following the Vikings all year, and attending a slew of Twins, Wild, and Wolves games, I was sorting through some stuff in my office and knocked over a stack of hats I'm always cycling through. I often talk about all the different hats I wear, when it comes to my job, but there's also a rotation of actual hats I wear, around here. Ya gotta support the teams!  And starting next week, I'll break out the racing hats and make sure to always have one or two of those with me on the road. I'm a hat guy...

Got a text message from Bob Vandergriff yesterday, who beat all my Twitter sources to let me know that Justin Verlander had just signed a very lucrative (and, I might add, well deserved) contract with the Detroit Tigers. As you might recall, Bob and Justin have gotten to know each other, and when Justin and his family came to the Richmond race Bob sent them my way, because he couldn't be there. Justin and the whole Verlander family were terrific, and it was a pleasure to have them in our pit for a while. I may be a Twins fan, but I'm also a baseball fan, and Justin Verlander is really about as good as they come. If I owned a team, he could pitch for me anytime he wanted to.

On a totally different subject, I got a note from longtime loyal blog reader and good guy Tom Miller, also known as TomFWL (Tom from West Linn). He just got a new credit card from one of those companies that allows you to customize the front of your card, and in the photo gallery you'll be able to see how he decorated his new MasterCard. Pretty cool, and it's actually made from a photo he took, while seated in the stands at a race. Question: Do we get to charge Tom interest every month, now?

Finally, the UPS guy just came to the door and delivered a small overnight envelope. It was one of those cardboard envelopes that you open by pulling the tab across the top, and that leaves you with a small strip of curled-up cardboard when you're done. That little item may be of no interest to humans, but it becomes the focus of all attention for a cat! Boofus went nuts, chasing that thing around the kitchen, flipping it into the air, and getting all worked up over it. I took a chance, grabbed the camera, and held it above his head while I clicked the shutter to prove that cats, just like dogs, can master the art of sitting up and begging.  Then he got the strip in his teeth and the battle was on. Until you've heard a little cat growl, as he shakes his head to take his prey with him, you wouldn't believe how funny it is.

And when Da Boyce get all worked up, and start flying around the house at Mach 5, leaping five or six steps at a time going up the stairs and walking on top of the hand railings instead of using the actual staircase, their tails get really fat. It's the funniest thing. Boof just ran in here at 226 mph, leaped up onto my office window sill, and was still panting and making funny noises as I got a shot of the famous "fat tail" cat.

That's it for today, gang... Have a great weekend, and then let's get ready for school to start next week! Wonder who my homeroom teacher will be this year...?

Can you smell the nitro, yet????

Wilber, out!

In exactly seven days, even factoring in the two-hour difference in time zones, I should be approaching the race track in Pomona in my rental car, or perhaps actually walking in the main door at Wally Parks NHRA Museum, to pick up some stuff at the Credentials desk. One week.

This is always an odd time of year, in the whole "it seems like forever but it seems like yesterday" vein. The final race of the year is like this, as well, when you look back over the full season and realize it simultaneously feels like a marathon and a short sprint. Like it just started but lasted forever. The off-season is nearly over, and in some ways I feel like we just left Pomona after the Finals, but it also seems like I haven't been to the race track in a decade.

And then, of course, when we all do convene in Pomona next week, the look ahead to the rest of the season will seem daunting and enormous. 10 months and 23 races, all over the country from coast to coast and border to border, including too many airplanes and too many bad late-night meals. It's usually not until around the St. Louis race, in early May, that it seems like we're into the season and right in the middle of it... All of those conflicting and sometimes self-contradictory feelings will begin next week. The clock, she is ticking.

Speaking of the full season and all the travel, we crossed a major milestone point this past week and it's one I wasn't looking forward to. Right now, and forever more, if you attempt to go to Northwest Airlines' website at NWA.com, you go straight to Delta.com instead. It's all gone. Basically, the only things left that still look, act, or operate as if Northwest was still around are the 30-some aircraft they have yet to repaint. Everything else is totally Delta. That sounded like some sort of derisive remark a teenager would say, didn't it? "Like oh-my-God, that is just so totally Delta..."

Dave and I did go on a little road trip for lunch, but the operative word there was "little." Not only were no planes involved, the entire trip was no more than a few miles, as we hopped in my car and went down to Cottage Grove to have lunch with Shorty at his All-American Motorsports Bar & Grill. This lunch date has been one we've been talking about forever, but just hadn't gotten around to, so this week Dave and I made the commitment to keep an hour clear in the middle of the day, and off we went.

One of the reasons we've been wanting to get down there was the fact I haven't been back since I donated the Wally, starting line shirt, and ND cover to Shorty last year, so we took the camera to commemorate the occasion with an officially licensed photograph. Smile!

The better two reasons, however, were the food and the company. It was great to see Shorty and everyone else, and the Walleye Fingers were officially "TDF" as our appetizer. You know the old saying: "Ya haven't lived until you've had the Walleye Fingers at Shorty's, don'tcha know. Darn right!" Seriously, though, they were as terrific as I remembered, despite the fact I'm still a bit confused. I'll admit to not being much of a fisherman, but I'm pretty sure Walleyes don't have fingers. Of course, chickens don't have fingers (or nuggets) either, so it's just one of the mysteries we'll have to relegate to the category of "unanswerable."

Now, after not having seen Shorty for a while, I'll see him again in a week. He and Cheri are coming to Pomona, and then they're also coming to Gainesville. I'll be sick of the guy! That won't stop me from getting back down there for more Walleye Fingers, though.

Hey, another item just crossed over into my consciousness about next week. A certain former boss of mine (last name rhymes with Worsham) is celebrating a pretty big birthday next Thursday. I think it qualifies as a big one when it's the first one you've had that starts with a 4... Can you believe that? Del Worsham is going to be 40! That doesn't seem possible... Seems like yesterday when we had a surprise party for him on his 30th... Seems like the day before yesterday when I first joined up with Del, and he was still living at home, and the race car shop was actually Chuck's garage...

During my Worsham tenure, of course, we had four different drivers in the second CSK car, and together they sound like an early 60s doo-wop group. "Okay ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together and welcome to the stage, Frankie, Johnny, Phil, and Jeff!!!" We also had a few moments, though, when we fielded three cars. The first time was when we brought the inimitable Cory Lee into the fold in an effort to slow down the JFR Mustangs, but then prior to the 2003 season we were approached by a creative young guy by the name of Michael Karp, who wanted to bring his dad out of retirement and into a nitro FC. Yes, that would be the old "Boston Strangler" Arnie Karp to whom I'm referring, and even though we could instantly tell that Michael was very sharp, very connected, and very much a go-getter, we still had to calm him down and tell him "You know, these sponsorships aren't that easy to get. Don't be disappointed if you can't get something put together right away..."

Seems like it was about five minutes later, and in reality it couldn't have been more than a few weeks, when Michael called with the good news after having secured Artisan Entertainment as the primary, and we scrambled to get the Terminator 2 car put together and race-ready. Del and I were impressed, to say the least, and we've both remained good friends with Arnie, Michael, and the whole Karp family.

Arnie is involved with a nostalgia team now, and I still hear from him on a semi-regular basis (thanks to Facebook and email!) He's truly one of the really good guys in this sport, and his son shares his genetics, for sure.

I brought all that up because Michael is going to be in the Twin Cities for a few days this week, and tomorrow we're going to meet for dinner in downtown St. Paul and then walk over to the Xcel Arena to see the Wild play Edmonton. It'll be great to see him and catch up on all he's up to these days. Photos will be taken.

On a completely different subject, I was sitting here at my desk earlier today, when I heard the unmistakable sound a bird makes when he (or she, I guess) thinks one of our big windows is a passageway, instead of a wall. It wasn't a particularly big bang, so I didn't think much of it other than "I bet Boof and the Big Fella heard that..." I didn't hear them scampering around, though, so I then figured it hadn't even been loud enough to wake them up.

I was wrong about that assumption, however, because they had heard it and were on full "stealth mode" and rigged for silent running. About 20 minutes after the thud, I walked to the kitchen and found them both standing at the window, front paws on the ledge, peeking out toward the slats of the pergola, where a dove was still collecting himself after the collision. He was clearly okay, in terms of anything being broken, but there was no doubt that little bird concussion was still being felt. Da Boyce were mesmerized, and doing all they could to be discreet and stay hidden, but those pointy black ears tend to be a big give-away. LOL... They were pretty funny about it, and the bird was clearly not feeling real hot, as he'd turn around and see them, but didn't have the desire or the ability to fly away. He sat there so long, the cats actually got bored and left, apparently feeling that food and sleep were more fun than watching a bird just sit there... Not long after that, Boofus returned to the scene for one more look, and the dove flew away. It was fun while it lasted, and all three of us are happy the dove made a full recovery. He's been cleared to play in the Super Bowl on Sunday.

Finally today, I've saved my serious stuff for the end again...

I'm sure all of you are familiar with Jim Brissette, one of the all-time great tuners in the history of the sport. Under the heading of "You never know who's out there reading this blog" I learned, a while back, that Jim's wife Carroll is a regular visitor here at the Team Wilk blog, and we correspond from time to time. I got the following note from here a few days ago, and I immediately promised to mention it, and put out the word on this very good cause.

Carroll wrote: "I wanted you to know we received a lovely Christmas card from your friend in Hawaii again, thanking us for help during his time of need. If you ever get a chance to put a line in your blog about an organization called Donate Life I would appreciate it very much. I have pulmonary fibrosis, which is a death sentence without a lung transplant. I found out in March of 2009, even though I have never smoked. Sure, I've had a few Miller Lites and some red wine along the way, so maybe my liver.... But no, it was my lungs. I have jumped through all the hoops to be on the transplant list at Cedars Sinai Hospital, here in Los Angeles, and fortunately I was listed on Sept 12, 2009.

"The gift of life is the most precious gift any of us can give, and I will forever be grateful for my new lungs once I get them. I will treasure them and take care of them very well until my party is over. Of course, we can't get transplants if people don't sign up to be donors, so hopefully people in California will visit DonateLifeCalifornia.org and sign up.

"Jim has been working in Europe with the Danish team, with Andy Carter driving. He will again do that, and the Danish car will be in Pomona so he will be there. He also helped Rob Flynn out at Bernstein's at the end of last year. I am trying to keep him busy so that he doesn't worry about me. Say hi to Barbara for me. Thanks to the blog, I feel like I know her. Carroll Brissette"

For those of you who aren't California residents, you can find your state's organization by going to DonateLife.net, and clicking on the state map. State laws vary, so they have formed an affiliation of state groups to help raise awareness and increase the number of people who are willing to share life by being an organ and tissue donor.

And here's wishing Carroll, and all the people who are awaiting transplants, the very best.

I'm signed up as a donor. Are you?

Wilber, out!

Welcome to February! Yes, we all know what that means. As of today, the 50th Anniversary Winternationals are officially NEXT WEEK, and just about the time this blog gets posted it will be no more than 10 days until we "light 'em up" for real in Pomona. Believe me, I am literally and truly counting the days.

But, as we kick off the second (and shortest) month of the year, I plan to hijack the blog today to take you on a magical journey to places many of you, no doubt, have never been. In the interest of fair reporting, that first paragraph will most likely be the last reference to Pomona or the 2010 Full Throttle season (not counting this reference, claiming that was the last reference, or some reference at the end).

I'm actually starting this blog on Sunday afternoon, while Barbara is out speaking to a group of Girl Scouts here in the neighborhood, and I mostly want to get going on it so that the memories of one of the most fun-filled and authentically Minnesotan afternoons and evenings remain fresh. Shall we begin?

Well, grab your mittens, put on your stocking cap, and dress up in your warmest coat. Put on some long-johns and two pairs of socks. We're going to the final day of the 2010 St. Paul Winter Carnival, and if you have 50 percent as much fun as Barb and I did on Saturday, you'll have half a riot. Okay, all you get are these stories and the best of the 119 photos I took, but I hope it translates into something more enjoyable than no blog at all, and it's a chance for me to share the weekend with all of you.

We were going to start the weekend with a trip to the Metrodome for TwinsFest, but after it opened on Friday and we saw all the reports on TV and in the paper, we changed our minds. Apparently, an enormous group of Minnesota sports fans were collectively ready to flip the switch from football season to baseball season, and that meant, to us, that TwinsFest had to be considered a victim of its own success. Some people camped out as many as six hours early to get in line, and the place was absolutely packed, so rather than deal with that, we went to the gym and got in a good workout instead.

Good idea, to go to the gym instead of the Dome, I think. Plus, our intrepid local writers and TV reporters kept us up-to-date on all the baseball news, so it felt like we were there. At least a little. At that point, on Saturday afternoon, we altered our focus to the Winter Carnival and the annual ultimate ending to it, the Torchlight Parade.

I've written about the Torchlight Parade and the wonderful, phenomenal, and truly entertaining St. Paul Winter Carnival in years past, but just to recap: The Winter Carnival lasts for 10 days and includes a wide variety of outdoor activities, sprinkled all around the St. Paul metro. There's ice fishing, ice carving, ice skating, and just about anything else you can do with ice and snow. There are stock car races on frozen lakes and if you like your racing on two feet instead of four wheels, there's the "Frozen 5-K" and a half-marathon. It all culminates right in the middle of downtown St. Paul, in and around Rice Park on the final Saturday night, when the Vulcans clash with the court of King Boreas in a battle of wills and strength to see if the red-clad Vulcs can bring summer and warmth back to the state.

The whole thing is a huge social event for the city, and it's an enormous honor to be named a part of either group for the Carnival in any given year. And, beyond the honor and fun of participating as the "stars of the show" during Winter Carnival, being a Vulcan or part of the King Boreas court is a year-long obligation, with appearances and promotions all around the city. On multiple occasions in the past, we've gone out to dinner in Woodbury on any random summer night, only to arrive at the restaurant to see the Vulcans' antique red fire truck out front. We know what that means... A group of rowdy fun-loving guys in red capes are going to be inside, marking people's faces with a sooty black "V" while we all shout "Hail the Vulc!"

Now here's what's funny. King Boreas is, technically, the good guy. The Vulcans are, technically, the bad guys. King Boreas is a gentle sort of regal chap, dressed in white fur, and he brings the north wind with all of its winter splendor to St. Paul, which means he provides the atmosphere for all of the associated wintertime fun in these parts, don'tcha know.

The Vulcans, led by their head dude Vulcanus Rex, want to bring the heat, and their rep is strongly on the side of "rabble rousers" and aggressors. All King Boreas and his court want to do on the final night of this grand celebration of the coldest months, the wonderful Winter Carnival, is to marvel at the beauty of the scene, and enjoy the huge crowd that has gathered for the Torchlight Parade. Then, just as the last marching band and float are passing by, we see the flames from the Vulcan torches marching up the street, bringing up the rear of the parade. The Vulcans assemble in front of Boreas and his court, then make a charge to take over the viewing platform, while the crowd screams either "Hail Boreas" or "Hail the Vulc" at the top of their lungs...

The first wave of Vulcans is, of course, repelled by the good King's guards, who are big and strong. Again the Vulcans charge, and again they are thrown back. Finally, in a melodramatic final push that has the members of the huge crowd laughing hysterically while also screaming in support of their favorite side, the Vulcans capture Boreas and we all celebrate, knowing summer will again, eventually, return. It's all a juxtaposition and a jumble of wills and intentions. We love Boreas and all the fun of winter, but we want summer to return. The Vulcans are the bad guys, but who doesn't love a good-hearted rapscallion of a bad guy? Whoever thought this stuff up, about 120 years ago, was a genius.

The weather, this year, was perfect. It was in the mid-teens, which makes it just cold enough to be a bit crispy and very wintery, but not so cold you're in pain. A few years back, the last time we went to the parade, it was about 8-below zero that night, and even though the parade went off as scheduled (there's no stopping the parade!), the Vulcans' assault was amazingly quick. Everyone wanted to get to the big (indoor!) dance they hold for all the members of both courts... It was like "Here come the Vulcans. Okay, we win. Let's go!"

I've included the front page coverage from today's newspaper in the photo gallery, and what makes it even more classic is the way they report on the assault in standard news lingo. The story below the photo says "Torches in hand, Vulcans from previous St. Paul Winter Carnivals march along 5th Street during Saturday night's Torchlight Parade in downtown St. Paul. After the parade, Vulcanus Rex led the dethroning of King Boreas and his Guard on the steps on the St. Paul Public Library, signaling the approach of warmer weather — though temperatures hovered in the mid-teens." You can't make this stuff up.

Barbara and I started the celebration by getting downtown before dark so that we could tour Rice Park and see what was left of the ice sculptures. Sadly, that goofy warm weather and rain we had a week ago took its toll on the artwork, but a lot of neat stuff was still there. Our favorite was one of the big winners, and it was an ice carving of a cat on top of a bird cage, trying to get at the bird through the slats of the cage. The intricate work, to carve a bird cage (with a bird in it!) out of ice, was amazing.

We then walked over to a wonderful Japanese restaurant, called Sakura, a block away to enjoy a marvelous dinner. My chopstick skills used to be nil (or perhaps below-nil), and I still operate them at probably only about a 3rd-grade level, but I managed to eat everything from my salad, to my appetizer, to my entree' with no American utensils and no fumbles. I was quite proud! And the food was terrific. The place was mostly empty when we got there but wall-to-wall when we left. Turns out the crowd of 30,000 that assembled for the parade didn't represent the only influx of people that night, as a big rodeo was also at the Xcel Arena and the opera was playing at the Ordway Center, just on the other side of Rice Park. Big night for St. Paul, all-around.

After dinner, we walked back over to 5th Street, just as the parade began, and stayed on that corner for about 30 minutes before cutting back through Rice Park (taking a few night-shot photos of the ice carvings along the way) and then grabbing a front row spot on the sidewalk along the front wall of the St. Paul Public Library, where Boreas and his court stood to observe. By the time the Vulcans appeared, with their torches and flame throwers, we were right up front like groupies at a rock concert, while thousands of others filled the park and the surrounding streets, straining to get a view. We really hadn't planned on it working out that well, but it did, and that would be a good thing in the photography category.

I had my Nikon with me this time but quickly figured two things out: It was useless to use the flash unless I was taking a close-up of a person right next to me, but I needed a very steady hand and a good amount of ambient light to shoot without the flash, out there on a dark winter night. In the end, I got all of my best shots that way, as you'll see in the gallery.

To say "A good time was had by all..." would be a vast understatement. It was really a ton of fun, very festive, enormously friendly, and all the good things we've come to associate with St. Paul and the Twin Cities since we moved here.

Speaking of moving here, our first Torchlight Parade experience coincided with one of our house-hunting trips, back in 2002. We had flown up from (warm and sunny) Austin, Texas, and were staying in the St. Paul Hotel (which, like almost everything else in this story sits right on Rice Park in downtown) when, much to our bemusement, some sort of parade thing began to happen on the streets outside. We bundled up and went out to the sidewalk to check it out, trying to grasp what was going on as we chatted with the locals to glean all we could in order to understand all the melodramatic actions and what those crazy guys in the red capes with the soot on their faces were all about.

When someone told us that the Vulcans were trying to overthrow Boreas to bring summer back, a shivering Barbara said, "So do people actually cheer for Boreas? Are they nuts? Hail the Vulc!!!" Since that introductory moment, Barb has been a major Vulcan backer. Now we know that everyone actually roots for both sides, because winter is fun but summer is too, and let's face it... Next year we get to do this all over again. Great stuff! Hope you all enjoyed it, and maybe some of you will have the chance to come here one year, to really experience it all in-person.

Now, it's time to start thinking about what we're doing tonight. Dave and Nichol will be joining us in a couple of hours, as we head over to Minneapolis to attend the Timberwolves game against the New York Knicks, and this is the night we've been upgraded to courtside seats by the fine folks at the Wolves. Should be fun! Of course, the Wolves actually won on Friday night, beating the Clippers, which gives them a record of 10-38 on the year. Who said we wouldn't reach double-digits for victories? Can they win two in a row? We don't worry about it... We go to see the skill and the NBA action, laugh at Crunch the mascot, and just have a fun time... Win or lose, they give it a good effort and we support the team that has treated us so marvelously well this season.

I'll be back to finish this after the game...

Monday morning...

I'm back. Once we got home from the game last night, it was simply time to hit the sofa and watch some TV before going to bed, but I'm back behind my desk, bright and early, to finish this. Bottom line, we had a GREAT time at the basketball game, for a lot of reasons.

We got down there early, as in so early there were hardly any cars in the parking structure and only a few other fans milling around the arena. As we walked into Target Center via a skyway, I called our Timberwolves guy Conor Noonan, who met us just inside the building. Conor took us on a brief tour of the private club that can be used by people who actually own the sort of season tickets where Barb and I were going to sit last night. Nice place! You get your own private locker to store your stuff in during the game, and free appetizers and drinks. Kind of like a little country club inside the arena (without the golf).

We cruised around, entering the arena through the same walkway the players use to get from the locker room to the floor, found our seats in the second row under the basket, and then watched some of the Wolves guys shoot around and loosen up. After taking Dave and Nichol up to our seats, at the other end of the floor, we all grabbed a bite and then got ready for the game.

Conor had told us some other great news, after we arrived, and that was the fun little detail that last night's game was officially "Crunch's birthday bash" as the Wolves' hilarious mascot celebrated another year with the team. To make it all more festive and to help Crunch have a party, a bunch of other mascots were in attendance. We had Nordy from the Minnesota Wild, TC Bear from the Twins, Goldy Gopher from the U. of Minnesota, Prowl from the Minnesota Lynx (our WNBA team), and then some guys who made the trip from much farther away. We had Benny the Bull from the Chicago Bulls, Rufus from the Charlotte Bobcats, Bango from the Milwaukee Bucks, Stuff The Magic Dragon from the Orlando Magic, and probably one or two others but I lost track. Much hilarity was generated, all night long, from this rag-tag group of ruffians...

We'd warned Dave and Nichol that the Wolves try hard but can sometimes get overwhelmed and completely run out of the gym, but I was still hoping that wouldn't happen so that they'd have a good time. Just last week, they lost to these same Knicks, in New York, by 27 (and apparently it wasn't that close), but we had hope. Sadly, by midway through the first quarter, basically 10 minutes into the game, the good guys were already down 22-7 and it looked ugly. As fun as our second-row seats were, it was tough to watch.

Then, the Wolves came alive and closed to within three by the end of the first. They got their game going and ended the first half actually up by three. At halftime, while all the mascots took on the Wolves dancers in an uproarious "dance contest" out on the court, Barb and Dave switched seats so the guys could have fun down by the floor, and the Wolves ran away with it in the second half, finally winning 112-91 for their second win in a row, improving their record all the way up to 11-38!

Seriously, though, it was a terrific amount of fun to sit so close. You can hear all the stuff the players are yelling at each other, calling out plays and coverages, and you can hear the arguments between the players and the refs, as well. And when you're no more than a few yards away from a 7-foot tall athlete flying through the air, dodging arms and elbows, to finally slam it through the hoop with a fierce growl (they usually do yell as they throw it down), you get an appreciation for how talented these guys are.

Fun stuff (pun intended) and the class and grace with which Conor and the Wolves staff have treated us does not go unnoticed or without appreciation. Once the season is over, Conor and I are going to discuss how Barbara and I can become actual season ticket holders, on a limited basis of course, but on an official one for sure.

So there you go. A totally hijacked blog from the perspective of a Minnesotan enjoying winter activities, and nary a hockey game involved! Hard to believe, but true...

I'll be back soon, and we'll start counting the days until Pomona. It's 10 days, in case you haven't been counting...

Wilber, out!