I miss looking cute in the winter.

I used to dress adorably no matter what the weather. Time was I didn’t let the specter of frostbite deter me one bit. Off I’d go, tromping through the snow to wait for the bus in a mini-skirt, doc martins, vintage top and a leather biker jacket. I was cute — incredibly stupid, but cute.

This is what I wore to work last Tuesday;
  • Long underwear
  • tank top
  • thermal top
  • jeans
  • sweatpants
  • long, wool sweater
  • 2 pair wool socks
  • 1 pair micro-fleece socks
  • sorrels
  • down jacket
  • two pair mittens, scarf, wool hat
  • lipstick, ’cause, you know, I do have some pride left.

My love affair with winter really ended two seasons ago. Last year, our little family was not in a happy place and for various reasons, winter seemed dark and fearsome. Like something out of a Chekhov play winter was too bleak, too sharp, too damn symbolic that year for my comfort. This year…well, this year, thanks to stupid physical reactions on the part of my traitor body, getting cold can lead to things like ulcers on my toes or gangrene… Really brings down a sledding party, if you know what I mean. So nowadays, when I head outside to enjoy the winter wonderland that is Minnesota, I do so looking like Randy Parker, the kid brother in “A Christmas Story.” …Sexy.

It’s gotten so that I even contemplate someday leaving this beloved state of mine for a more temperate, less deadly climate. Hubby is thrilled. He only paused here on his youthful travels, intending a short stay. Then he met me, who loves this city and clings to it like a barnacle on a cruise ship. (What can I say, that miniskirt/doc martin combo was deadly, y’all.) He is elated at the thought that we might pick up where he left off and wander about this country. He’s been bringing me suggestions on where we might go. It’s difficult, though, because I also hate heat, humidity and bugs…why, yes. I AM a princess, thanks.

First suggestion; San Francisco. Home of his brother and his lovely wife and their two, hilarious, awesome kids. Here’s the thing; Ed, Ro, I love you and all, but that whole state is going to slide right into the ocean one day. Number one, nobody should “get used to” earthquakes. They are a clear reminder that nature can- and possibly wishes to- KILL you. Number two, you know that fault line that runs through the state?? It’s the equivalent of the perforated line up the middle of a graham cracker. Snap. Number three, when the earthquake hits, the fault line snaps and the entire West Coast start slipping into the ocean…you have GREAT WHITE SHARKS living in the bay. Ummm…. I don’t like the mosquitos I have to contend with. I’m sure as hell not fighting off the world’s most deadly killing machine. Not only am I not moving to California, I would heartily suggest you guys get out now.

Suggestion number two; Portland, Oregon. Site of our recent vacation. Now this has some promise; no earthquakes, no sharks, home of the maple bacon donut (for now and forever my most favorite foodstuff on the planet.) Of course there are those two pesky volcanos nearby…hubby assures me that they are too far away to be of any concern, but then, he wanted to live in California, so what does he know?

I don’t know, I think this is going to be harder than I thought. The fact is, I don’t want to go anywhere else. I like Minneapolis. I like winter. Sure, It’s trying to kill me and all…. But at least there aren’t any sharks, which to my way of thinking is a definite plus. And I can always put bacon on my own donuts. Heck. I can put bacon on anything. Yup. Bacon and winter. This year is looking up after all.
The Rise & Fall of a Momocracy

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