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Monday, December 15, 2008

Wake me up in three months

Yesterday was a classic Minnesota winter day. Started out mild and drizzly...there were puddles. Puddles! But you knew it wasn't going to last. I went for a run in the misty rain around 10 a.m., and saw multitudes of people out with my same idea, knowing the other shoe was going to drop, actually be hurled with great force, not unlike the Iraqi reporter did to president Bush yesterday. We all knew it would probably be another week before it would be prudent to play outside again. Unless you didn't care about losing digits or really do enjoy the sensation of having your boogers crystallize like tiny bricks inside your nostrils.

Sure enough, that afternoon the temperature dropped. And dropped. Then it plummeted. The interstates began to close. And children everywhere did their happy dances because they KNEW schools would close and the weekend could last another day. This is one of the many reasons I loved winter as a kid. More than sledding. More than skiing. More than building forts and playing King of the Hill. More than making that perfect snowball to pelt my brother in the back of the head with and then run screaming while he chased me with a murderous rage and promised I would get a supreme face wash. In the yellow snow.

More wonderful than all this were possibilities of snow days. Almost as good as Christmas mornings before you opened your presents and discovered that what you thought might be that art set you wanted was really a big box full of socks and underwear.

Usually, I would wander down early and listen to the radio, praying and bargaining with God that if HE would grant me this snow day, I would promise to be nice to my sister. For a WHOLE DAY.

Most of the time God saw through my ploy and I ended up going to school. And my sister usually returned as numero uno on my never ending shit list.

So now it's Monday morning and 35 below with the wind chill. The U is open. The U is always open. Plus it's finals week here. For the U to actually close the pigs in hell wouldn't be able to fly because of the ice forming on their wings. Maybe...

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