A week ago I was sitting by the pool, eating Chex Mix and soaking in the afternoon rays. I was in Florida, it was November, and I wasn’t drinking cocoa. Me. Minnesota Transplant.
I return to my transplanted home in Illinois, and it wasn’t pool weather. The trees were bare. But I didn’t need mittens either. I could tolerate it.
Then my Facebook feed, seeded with friends from Minnesota, blows up with, what is this? Snow. Not just flurries. Snow you measure with rulers! Words like snow day and arctic blast and snowmageddon litter posts.
Maybe I’ve gotten soft since I moved away from Minnesota (that’s what happens when things warm up), but it seems like Nov. 10 is too early for a blizzard.
Then I saw on the NBC Nightly News a glimpse of what I think is the quintessential attitude of a Minnesotan.
Standing on the street (presumably Forest Lake) and leaning on a shovel, a blond in a plaid (of course) jacket says:
“It’s gonna happen one way or another. I guess it’s good to just get it out of the way.”
I almost spewed my cocoa on the big screen. That’s fatalism, you betcha.
P.S. It’s not snowing in Florida.