It is cold.
Yes. We have snow.
Yes, I live here voluntarily.
In part because of this:
When the temperature drops, Lake Superior steams.
That's how cold it is: Lake Superior is warmer than the air.
Let me repeat. Lake Superior is warmer than the air.
Not to be too morbid, but Lake Superior is so cold that even in the summer, dead things don't float to the surface. The water is too cold to allow the gas-producing bacteria to multiply and cause buoyancy.
The southern part of Minnesota got walloped with a few feet of snow over the weekend -- we were not so lucky. (I love a good snow day.) Everyone in my neck of the woods made an effort to batten down the hatches based on the (wrong, wrong wrong!) predictions of meteorologists -- we made sure we had plenty of wood for the wood stove, snacks for the children, and I brought home all the yarn for the knitting projects next in the queue.
11-18", they told us.
We waited by the fire for the show to begin, and it never did. It was like looking forward to a really exciting movie, only to arrive at the theater, plunk yourself down in a seat with your popcorn and candy, and wait for the movie to start. You sit and sit, and periodically the manager comes out and says, "We're almost there, folks -- should just be a couple more minutes, and everything will be fixed."
You consume all your popcorn and your Milk Duds and make a quick dash to the concession stand for some Reese's Pieces before the movie starts.
You eat all the Reese's Pieces and some of your beloved's Junior Mints.
You fall into a deep sugar coma.
When you awaken, the manager is waiting for you. He says the movie will start any second. Any second, really.
It never does.
Eventually, you concede that the movie is well and truly broken and leave the theater. When you walk to your car, you discover it won't start.
That's where we are right now -- in the broken down car of twenty degrees below zero, disappointed that we waited in vain at the movie theater.
But at least we have this:
This weekend I complained to my sister about my lack of apparel for dressy winter occasions. I was going to the ballet and couldn't find anything that would neither bring shame to my family (read: jeans and a T-shirt at The Nutcracker) or cause me to die of hypothermia. She was supposed to offer helpful suggestions to her sister who hasn't lived in a climate this cold in over a decade. Something like, "I will drop you off at the door so you don't develop hypothermia walking the long distance from the parking garage to the entrance."
Or, "I have a dressy, floor-length down parka you can borrow."
Or, "Wear these mulkluks that I've dressified with my Bedazzler."
But no.
Do you know what she told me?
"Suck it up and be a Minnesotan."
Fine. I will.
And I may even like it.