I'll Never Tell You My Secrets!

Last weekend, Minnesota was hit with one of the worst winter storms we've ever had. We all woke up on Saturday to a thick, drift-y blanket of soft powder that swallowed up cars and consumed city streets. Minnesotans are a tough breed, but this tested us. The snow storm was immediately followed by sub-zero temperatures. Mother nature is a real bitch sometimes.

That night, a friend of mine who lives 5 blocks away invited me over to have some wine and cheese and to just generally hunker down. 'Hunkering down', for those of you who may not be native Minnesotans, is what we call being inside during a storm. You can hunker down by yourself, but it's more fun to hunker down with others. It creates the illusion of having a good time while the weather spews its evil outside.

In any case, I bundled up, packed a bottle of wine into my bag, and headed out the door. The sidewalks weren't shoveled, and there was thigh-deep snow there and in the streets. It took me almost 30 minutes to walk the 5 blocks to her house.

This storm got me thinking about what it's like to grow up Minnesotan. For one thing, it makes you physically tough. Your blood becomes a little thicker, your skin a little rougher. The weather is something to survive, not enjoy. When non-Minnesotans talk of being cold, you scoff at them. Cold? You think you're cold? It's -30 in Minnesota! Now that's cold! Choosing to live in this weather, to endure its cold hell every year, is a badge of honor. Yes, sir, I am that tough.

But I think it does something else to a person. I think it makes people mentally tough, too. I was thinking that surviving a Minnesota winter is sort of like being a captured spy, and winter is the enemy. It pushes the envelope when it comes to testing your will. No, not with bamboo shoots under fingernails, but with icy winds and dark mornings scraping a layer of ice from your car, only to find it is too cold to start. Not with sleep deprivation and water torture, but with frostbite on the skin between the cuff of your coat and your mitten. And the thing is, we don't have the option to say 'Enough! I'll tell you the location of the uranium!' or whatever. It's something we have to endure, every year, for the rest of our time here. And if you're a real Minnesotan, you must endure it with a big smile on your face.

On Sunday, I went out to shovel my car from its icy tomb. I shoveled for over an hour and a half, and then decided to take a break. As I turned to go back inside, one of my neighbors stopped shoveling, too. At the same time, we looked at each other, gave each other the exact same 'Do you believe this?' look, and started laughing in unison.

And I think that's why we all stay in Minnesota.
xo

On the 16th Day of Christmas

This Christmas season has been drastically different for me than others in the recent past. See, I used to be one of those people who loved Christmas and felt really Christmas-y for the 6 or so weeks preceding Christmas. When I was little, we'd always light candles on an Advent wreath, one candle for each of the weeks, and it was really special to mark the time and get excited. My family would get together and have little rituals--opening presents in order by age, reading the Christmas story, singing song, looking in our stockings and eating cookies and meatballs and the Russell Stover's candy assortment.
But something happened--I can't say exactly when--and all my warm feelings about Christmas went away. I think it was around the time I began to realize how much stress Christmas can induce. After all, until I was about 12, all I had to do was enjoy the holiday--to eat the meatballs and open my presents. Sometimes I was called upon to read the Christmas story aloud, but it was a small price to pay for the fun of the day.
One year, I noticed that I really didn't feel any differently on Christmas than I did on any other day. In fact, I felt kind of sad, as though I'd outgrown something really special and important to me. There was pressure to buy the 'perfect' presents for people, pressure to impress my family at our get-togethers, pressure to be appropriately grateful, pressures that I had never noticed before because I had been too busy enjoying the day. I tried everything, but I couldn't make myself feel that special Christmas feeling. This has sort of been the theme of Christmases since for me. It's nice to see my family, nice to get and give presents, nice to eat special things, but I've missed that unique, awesome, happy, Christmas feeling.

Well, this year, I think I have it again. I have been listening to non-stop Christmas music for over a week--I'm talking non-stop, 8 hours a day here--and I still love it. Every time that little tinkly piano starts at the beginning of that song from A Charlie Brown Christmas (you know... the 'Christmas tiiiime is heeeere' one), I get excited. The first few notes of any version of Jingle Bells makes me grin. I want to bake gingerbread cookies, drink warm, adult beverages, put up a tree, hang a wreath, and listen to Burl Ives ALL THE TIME. It's fantastic! We'll...it's fantastic for me. I'm pretty sure my co-workers want to kill me.

In any case, I hope your Christmas season is equally Christmas-y! Happy holidays!
xoxo