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Oh, I KID! I love hearing the signs of Spring! Cawing crow and distant chainsaw, I HEAR YOU. I also see the sun setting later, like it’s November, BUT IT ISN’T. If Winter were actually a six-month marathon, I’d shove so much grain-free chips and guacamole in my fanny pack, stock my running-bandolier with a variety of hydration gels and, ONCE AGAIN, salute the outdoors for being a worthy adversary.
But that’s silly! Guacamole would turn brown and my chips would get stale! I will just stream movies, write cards, and fashion the hair I pull off my sweater into a wreath.
Only my fellow Minnesotans and residents of Chicken, Alaska can truly understand what it means to be cold. I am intrigued by deadly weather. Cold that can freeze a limb solid. Cold that flattens your car tires. Cold that makes your eyeballs feel funny. I braved the extreme cold today.
-21° is COLD. But a Mexican Omelette was whispering my name with such longing… I put on every bit of clothing I own and headed outside. The car actually told me to F – Off. I reminded it that we were both in this together and that if it cooperated I would fill it up with Premium Gasoline. Foolish car, choosing gasoline over Mexican Omelette!
When I was safely inside of Hot Plate I laughed… Oh, how I laughed – and saluted the outdoors for being a worthy adversary. Later that day (that SAME day) I went outside again. I actually ran to the studio. It took 1.5 seconds. Luckily my exposed body part (my bottom) was unharmed.
Where was I? Oh, yes. I risked my limbs (and bottom) to run to the studio and lay out previously written cards. Three birthday cards. The metal type was awfully cold. I wanted to lick it but I exercised restraint.