I Remember Now Why I left Minnesota

Call it gloating, evil, or just a little bit of validation; but every morning I sit at my desk in sunny North Carolina, coffee in hand, toss open the window (yes, in February) and let the 69 degree breeze sweep across my desk fluttering it's papers ever so lightly. I sit back and sip...and smile as I log onto the Minneapolis Star-Tribune newspaper to gleefully read the temperatures and snow fall predictions.

The main headline this morning read:

Chaska man found frozen to the pavement dies

"A man who was found early Saturday partly frozen to the pavement on the side of a road in Chaska died Sunday, the day he turned 19 years old."

OK people. WTF? I mean he fell, hit his head and was sporting a body core temperature of 77 degrees within 20 minutes. That's damn cold people.

Minnesota is beautifully breathtaking with blue lakes for every three city blocks if you were to spread them out. Each with shops, art galleries, cafes, coffee shops and theaters sprinkled around their shores. Brightly colored sail boats glide by the dozens on the blue glittering water in the sunshine.

But Minnesota in winter, is cold. Colder than any cold you will have ever dared to breathe in....47 below windchill is nothing. If you want to kill someone, push them outside, lock the door and wait ten minutes.

I remember a childhood past-time of throwing a pan of boiling water off the deck to watch it never hit the ground, but rather produce a huge steam cloud that hovered for hours.

But don't let that fool you.

People are always surprised to know how HOT it gets in the summer. The most miserable HUMID heat (think 10,000+ lakes here) you will ever feel. You cannot breath, and you may as well forget about your hair. I walked around looking like a drown rat for 38 summers. (May explain why I only got asked out between October and May.)

If you have a yeast infection or are largely pregnant over the summer....you would rather pull your upper lip over your head while blowing your leg off with a hand grenade. Trust me. I have been there. Swollen ankles and fits of screaming are the norm.

If your water breaks in summer you will not notice.

If it breaks in the winter it will freeze your legs together at the knees. You will have to blow-dry them apart.

Growing up with my "thrifty" set of evangelical zealot parents was no treat in a hot Minnesota summer either. My brother and I suffered for Jesus with no air conditioning. Only a window AC in our parents room.

Apparently God liked them better.

Meanwhile we were stuck to our sheets in a pool of sweat with a fan 2 centimeters from our head.

I lost my bangs that way once.

On the worst nights we retreated to the basement floor on top of a sleeping bag sporting sayings like "Groovy" and "Neat". There was nothing groovy or neat about it.

Add 3 foot mosquito's (state bird) to the mix and you will find childhood photos of me, stringy blond hair and attractive pink dots of Calamine Lotion all over my limbs until I was about fifteen.

After that it was better to itch than kiss Terry Gibbons on the docks at Lake Nokomis smelling like a pharmacy.

There are other perks of moving from Minnesota. The obvious being the absence of my mother-in-law. The woman who has party's in her garage with a keg, KFC, and a space heater while wearing spray on nylons, a skirt and a parka. Also not plugging in my car at night, "shoveling out", or paying heat bills that surpassed my mortgage payments.

Although some days I admittedly miss the familiarity of some old haunts, or the simple pleasure of walking only blocks (In the city yet) to see a real blue crystal lake, devouring a good book on it's shore, floating on a raft, or watching the sunset.

Tomorrow will be in the 60's here, with the signs of spring surrounding me two months before what I am used too. The daffodils are popping their tiny yellow faces as I walk this warm evening to the end of my street, to the man made FAKE lake.

I pause to watch the three under-lit fountains spraying water high into the moonlight, leaning over the little wooden bridge.

Closing my eyes at the sound of falling water ........it can still take me back.