…Minnesota. People here (myself included – I’ve lived here long enough to pick up certain… idiosyncrasies) act as if there are only two seasons: winter, and summer. When we get the slightest hint that winter has released us from its icy grip, when temperatures rise above freezing and snow is nowhere to be found, it is summer. People put on shorts and tank tops, ride their bikes or go running or walk the dog, go over to the lake, even if it’s just to look at it without its ice-tarp.
Today it’s supposed to reach 80* in some parts of the state, parts that I am near, parts that if I seriously didn’t have to wash more laundry (including bed sheets – got some nasty bug bites last night and it grosses me out) I would drive to. I was just outside – it’s gorgeous. Not only is the sun shining and it’s warm outside, but the warmth of the sun on my skin was almost tangible, almost something I could touch, something with physical presence.
Nothing but shorts and capri pants and tank tops and short-sleeved shirts, and sandals, everywhere I look. If it gets any warmer, guys are going to start taking off their shirts. Calm down, everyone – it’s Minnesota. Many of you pasty white guys really shouldn’t take your shirts off in public, at least until you’ve had time to … get some sun in the privacy of your own backyard. (And yes, I can say this because I too am pasty white, which is one of the reasons I don’t go parading around in short shorts or miniskirts; the other being general modesty and the thighs I inherited from ‘s family.)