Minnesotans feign nonchalance when the
temperatures plummet 20 degrees below zero. It's
our element. "What? Oh, I guess there's a bit of a
chill in the air. If you insist." We thrive where lesser
Oklahomans and Alabamans would falter. And we
proudly stand (sometimes slipping and falling)
before the rest of the nation when Al Roker rolls the
blizzard videotape from the Upper Midwest. Gasps
are heard from San Diego to Charleston.
Then comes summer. Our beards itch. Our hair
sticks to the back of our necks. We lie semi-
coherent in bed at 3:00 a.m. coverless, wishing we
could bask in the coolness of the tile floor behind
the toilet like the cat.