Carly: SnOMG!

SnOMG!

I wasn’t going to write about the snow, but I can’t help it. It’s EVERYWHERE, and I still HURT from moving (seemingly) hundreds of pounds of it this weekend. So if you’re sick of hearing about snow, seeing snow, driving in snow or shoveling snow, this is your warning.

What is it about Minnesotans? What makes a society of seemingly well-educated, resourceful, proud people stay in a land where snowfall reaches such proportions that it can bring down the ceiling of a professional sports arena? Is there something in the water that makes us (I’ve lived here for almost 8 years, so I’d say I’m a Minnesotan now) forget how much winter sucks every year? It’s like spring and summer come along and we all say, “Oh, I guess that wasn’t so bad”. Then, before you know it, winter comes again and BAM, I’m wondering if I lost my marbles in a snow bank by staying here and despair that I won’t be able to find them again until spring.

Maybe it is the pride I mentioned before. The hours most of us undoubtedly put in shoveling this weekend is something worth bragging about to your thin-skinned friends in warmer climates. After all, those sissies that fled to Southern California sure missed out on one heck of a storm this weekend! We earned our aching muscles! I’m sure that chiropractors and massage therapists alike are rejoicing, as a 12+ inch snowfall is sure to bring them some business.

I am not entirely kidding though, I am mildly concerned. How is it that we’ve deluded ourselves into thinking that marching about town in 4 degrees is okay, just as long as the wind-chill is above 0? There’s got to be some clinical term for the denial that the entire state is in. I don’t know about you guys, but by the time the snot-freezing temperatures show up in January, I’m ready to quit and fly south.

Okay, so despite my whining, there is something I actually enjoy about winter here. That something is the sense of community that a huge snowfall or a bitterly cold day can bring. The neighborhood that pushes stuck cars together and lends a snow blower to less fortunate neighbors is the neighborhood I want to live in. It is an odd sensation, laughing and smiling while your face is freezing off and your back is aching with every shovel of powder you whip over your shoulder. I will admit to having “gone native” this weekend, and when I would have otherwise normally hibernated under a blanket, I was happy-houring, dancing with friends and helping strangers push their cars. I think that’s the only way we actually survive 5+ months of winter. We find our sisu, our chutzpa, and/or our Stärke (as well as our SmartWool accessories) and make the most of what we’re handed.

So cheers to you, you crazy Minnesotans! I may not entirely understand you yet, but I’m proud to be among your numbers.