Thursday, January 15, 2009

Do I Have a Right to Complain?


Okay, the temperature this morning was 20 below zero with a windchill of 32 below. Over 200 schools in Minnesota were closed due to the weather, and hundreds more had late starts. Me, I'm at work. My car started just fine. I let it run about five minutes while I returned to my kitchen to put some lunch together. On my short drive to the office, I saw no one at the bus stop.

In spite of this cold weather, we seem to deal with it just fine (with a little grumbling, of course).

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You betcha you're from Minnesota when...
You only own three spices...salt, pepper and ketchup.
You have more miles on your snow blower than your car.
You've spent the last 15 minutes getting your child dressed to play in the snow only to have him tell you he has to go to the POTTY NOW!
You thought Grumpy Old Men was documentary.
You design your Halloween costumes to fit over snowmobile suits.
You feel warm and toasty at -12°.
You know what leaves make good toilet paper.
You know the four seasons—Winter, Still Winter, Not Winter and Almost Winter.
Or: You know there are only two seasons—Winter and The Time When They Fill In The Potholes In The Road.
Though you're not breaking the law, you break into a cold sweat when the game warden appears.
You know Ole and Lena personally.
You owe more money on your snowmobile than your car.
You think the opening of deer season is a national holiday.
You find -40° only a mite chilly.
You think everyone from a different state has an accent.
Your husband thinks sexy lingerie is a flannel nightgown with only eight buttons.
You've ever taken your kids trick-or-treating in a blizzard.
You find it exciting to stare through a hole in the ice and look at the bottom.
You have ten favorite recipes for venison.
You can tell the difference between a gopher and a chipmunk at 300 yards.
You think white rice is exotic and wild rice is a hot dish.
You've attended a formal affair in your best dress, wearing your finest jewelry and your Sorrels.
Somewhere in the state is a piece of frozen metal with bits of your tongue stuck to it.
At least three times a year your kitchen doubles as a meat processing plant.
When you win the prize for the smallest fish, you're proud of it.

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Some of these don't apply to me, but of those, I know some for whom they do. Where ever you are, I hope you are keeping warm!

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