Midwest Specific

Hobbit-hole turned Igloo

So, my house is freezing. My life is straight up "Frozen" (BEST MOVIE OF 2013!!!!). 

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Living in an apartment that is slowly freezing = 2 MIDWEST POINTS

Vocabulary

Colloquial Realization

I lack a certain vocabulary. I am without the words to describe snow. I speak rain. But snow doesn't sprinkle or pour. While far from fluent in any precipitation I know that a blizzard transcends the meaning of cats and dogs. I am in the need of new words. 

Snow Sky!

Snow Slang

Without proper terms and syntax I have created my own. Thus far in my life I have witnessed three kinds of snow:

1. Salting: 

A snow salting is comprised of a soft dusting of teeny tiny snowflakes; the way in which snow "sprinkles". 

Road Safety Issues = None

2. Christmas Time: 

Christmas Time snow occurs when quarter-sized fluffy flakes whirl and twirl as if existing in the final scene of any Christmas classic. To me, Christmas Time snow is reminiscent of Disneyland's perfectly perfect bubble soap snow that finishes December firework shows. 

Road Safety Issues = Slippery Streets

3. Blustery:

Blustery snow is a vengeant medium of the water cycle. Thick and thin walls of flakes dampen mittens and hide miles of scenery. Blustery snow is sharp with cold and leaves dirty brown ice in its wake. Once a blustery snowflake flew up my nose. The experience was unpleasant. 

Road Safety Issues = Lack of Visibility, Icy Roads & Thick snow-covered intersections

New Words

With the exception of the damned and determined blustery snowflake my time with snow has been new and nice. Finding words for foreign experiences reveals the deep poetry within all our lives. My life has been blessed with stanzas that captivate and comfort; a theme I wish for everyone.

SNOW WORLD, SNOW LIFE

Winter Wonder/Dangerland

EVERYTHING IS DIFFERENT, EVERYTHING IS NEW. To borrow a sentiment from Cindy Lou Who circa Jim Carey Grinch,  "My world is changing, its rearranging." That is, my world is now a SNOW WORLD. AND I LIVE A SNOW LIFE.

Fargo made it through Thanksgiving with the arrival of the tinniest runt-of-the-litter snowflakes. Preston and I retrieved JC Penny snow globes and other Black Friday booty in a still autumnal world. The post-Thanksgiving weekend trailed on with trips to Target and the unveiling of Preston's home-brewed cider.  We drank on the floor with friends and laughter. And the world was still brown.  But come Monday morning EVERYTHING CHANGED. EVERYTHING REARRANGED.

My Winterized Street

A foot of thick snow had descended overnight. It was beautiful. Side streets and fir trees were candy coated in powdery snow. Angular city edges were made soft. And bare tree branches glistened. The air was refreshingly cold. Each breath seemed to sweep away the remains of humid summer air still lingering in the corners of my lungs. My nose and cheeks flushed in the chill.

Pavement Perils 

This SNOW WORLD, SNOW LIFE  brought about a quest: driving to work in the snow. Before last Monday I had never even been on a snowy road before. And by the end of the day my F150 and I had traversed Fargo's snowy grid.

I bumped off curbs, slid through intersections and drove up a slushy hill at a forty-five degree angle. Driving cockeyed up the hill reminded me of California. My futile attempts to correct my back wheels were reminiscent of biking over Pacific sand dunes-when I used to live someplace warm, ever-so-long ago.

A Glazed Downtown

My struggles continued until the final stretch of my three mile drive. A drive that took twenty minutes. While sliding down Broadway a numerical button caught my eye. Its painted inscription read: 4X4. Four wheel drive is magnificent, a thousand thanks to the genius who invented the snow-friendly function. My day surged with an adrenal rush. The flood of post-trauma chemicals celebrated my survival and triumph over frosted pavement.  I fueled this feeling with eight cups of coffee. A choice I later regretted.

High Fashion

My SNOW WORLD, SNOW LIFE continued with a drastic temperature skydive. Come Thursday the warm thirties abandoned us. A reign of terror hosted by the negatives has taken hold over North Dakota. Yesterday I left for work in -14. To combat such a toxic atmosphere I created my own Arctic Tundra Survival Suit.

Suitin' Up

My ensemble consisted of: leggings, two pairs-one to hold up the leggings- of underwear, ugly socks, brand-new Uggs, Walmart gloves,  wool mittens, a pink North Face fleece, my birthday scarf, a Harlem souvenir hat,  a slouchy shirt-dress, and puppy pajama pants to complete the look. My co-worker Matt said that I looked like a five year old who dressed themself that morning.

Epilogue 

I have currently existed in several days of below zero temperatures. Preston and I even took a short jaunt afterwork in search of downtown Christmas presents. And I am pleased and shocked that I am somehow alive and existing. I am actually in shock that whole societies of people live and thrive outside of Mediterranean longitudes.

I had theorized that humans, like other animals, are meant to be naked and therefore should only live in habitats were one can be naked all the time. HELLO Palms Springs! Preston feels differently. He believes that humans have minds to make tools, such as clothes, and therefore can live anywhere they find a way to survive. 

And while it may not be up to my standards of "Natural Human Habitats" with the help of indoor heating, F150's and puppy pants I have endured my first week of winter. Against all odds. 

MIDWEST POINTS

Enduring my First Week of Winter-Against All Odds= 20 MIDWEST POINTS

Driving in Snow= 7 MIDWEST POINTS

Driving Poorly in Snow= -11 MIDWEST POINTS

Seeing Frozen Water for the First Time= 4 MIDWEST POINTS

Monumentist Moments!!!

Legend-wait for it-..........DARY!*

Today was a day for breaking records and diving deeper into this funny northern world. TWO never-before-seen-or-felt moments wriggled there way into my morning literary.

Primero Monumentist Moment: 

Today marks the coldest I have ever ever ever been in my entire earthly existence. You know you're in for a morning of Arctic proportions when you aren't sure if your radio station is telling you the time or the temperature. Additionally, even my iPhone sought to warn me that it was "very cold". 

Dressed in my snow jacket of many colors I de-iced my windshield in 11 degree air. On the way to my morning appointment the heat of my eyeballs fogged over my glasses. After a brisk three minute drive I arrived at a blood donation center. Before the customary finger prick I stuck my iceberg hands into the warm folds of my armpits. I did this in the waiting room. And I didn't do it under my jacket. My elbows pointed out like a sunflower leaves as I reached both hands through the collar of my shirt. 

Unfortunately my attempt to defrost my digits failed. Two medical technicians were needed to pinch and prod the frozen blood out of my ring finger. Normally their rigorous squeezing would have caused tears to well up in my eyes. But my freezer-burned epidermis enabled me to chat and laugh without a second thought to what was happening to my nerve-less finger tips. 

Eight minutes later, they collected the needed 1/16 of a teaspoon. With the sample tested and my weight taken only my temperature remained. Both technicians knitted their brows after my reading. It turns out that I was too cold to donate. Even after ten minutes in the warm-as-June heated building my internal temperature was only a chilly 95.3 degrees.  Later in the morning, I saw a man wearing a short sleeve polo and a pair of dad jeans. Perhaps I really wasn't meant for this kind of living. I feel akin to the lone Flamingo that lives at  the Moscow zoo. 

Segunda Monumentist Moment:

Yoga outside of India is always translated. Classes vary, instructors vary, terms vary.  However my East-Meets-Midwest practice today takes it to a whole new Post-Modern level. High above the Island Park's balding treeline my yoga class expectations were shattered by the Fargo YMCA. For better or for worse. 

Within a second of walking into the studio I noticed something different. Gone was the lulling buzz of didgeridoos and the splish-splashing of bubbling brooks that I had come to expect. And in its place was soundtrack worthy of a Nora Ephron movie. We did downward dog to Norah Jones and balanced on one foot as Beyonce scaled "At Last's" octaves. Every song was mellow and positive. Overall the lyrics focused on world perspective and love, in a Top 40 kind of way. 

It may come as no surprise that our instructor was the first of her kind. She did not fit the long and limber, tattooed and vegan yogi archetype. She was short and sturdy; cornfed, with thick wheat-blonde hair that could only belong to a farmer's daughter. Her voice was equal parts scratchy, monotone and mall girl. She never once mentioned her style of practice or the c.d. playing in the background. She was unapologetic for who she was. In a way that we all should aim to be. And while the class was certainly different, it wasn't bad or irreverent. Well, actually, maybe playing Jack Johnson is sacrilegious in for some ascetics. But I feel as though her aim was noble. And her mix included one my favorite songs, Adele's cover of "Make You Feel My Love".  And I think that earns some Midwest Points.

Hearing A Favorite Song on East-Meets-Midwest Yoga Mix=1 MIDWEST POINT

Having Your Blood Freeze= -7 MIDWEST POINTS

*Believe it or not Barney Stinson, but North Dakota's state motto is....LEGENDARY!

It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like...

Early Arrival

A funny thing happened in Fargo this week. An early frost of Christmas decorations dusted every doorway and light post with tinsel and holly. When I asked a local about the preemptive festivity, she sighed, "It's too early if you ask me, but it's what they do every year."

Busy Sides, City Sidewalks, Dressed in Holiday Style

Christmas Here & There

While I personally observe a post-Thanksgiving holiday doctrine, I am completely un-offended by the gesture. I've seen much worse. Without the seasonal rhythm of Labor Day, Halloween and Thanksgiving to slow them down, Ozzie stores gush with red and green as early as October 1st. The back to school pencil cases are traded for candy cane colored Whoville contraptions. A summertime Christmas calls for all sorts of different Santa interpretations*. And while those of the mighty Midwest winters may dismiss Californian Christmas as flip-flop weather, there is still a wintery sense amongst the natives.

*think wake boarding Santas and neon Christmas trees

Joining in the Christmas Spirit

Not one to be a stick in the mud, I decided to embrace my new found yuletide surroundings with a bit of shopping.  Typically I prefer to shop for books and picture frames; clothes are not jive. But this new season, named fall, is leading me to dressing rooms and clearance racks. The time of sweaters has been thrust upon me. 

Dressed for the Mall*
*my mom refuses to go to the mall underdressed

Maxxinista

In addition to comfy sweaters, it is also time that I pick up some new jeans. It has come to my attention that a lot happened in the world of denim while I wandered around Thailand last spring. My well worn Levis are no longer cool. I am in need of a serious dose of hip. But not too much. A recent trip to Forever 21 taught me that I may never be the epitome of hip again. It looks like I am destined to be Currently 23, and Eventually 24, and so on. Lucky for me, there is TJ Maxx, which giveth unto me a woven bounty. And with said bounty a monster has been unleashed, e.g. I bought jeggings!?!! Not to mention I have already made plans to go boot searching next week.

Glories of Glories!!!

I cannot wait to surprise all my regulars tomorrow. It turns out my fashion choices have sent out a ripple at my lovely cafe. Typically, I dress for each day as if it were 70 outside, seeing as how I only have clothing for such temperatures. And before I head out the door, I zipper up my bulky and fluffy snow jacket. Once I get to work I shed my wintery layer and double wrap my apron strings. My bare arms never crossed my mind, until the one day I wore a flannel button down (Californians wear those). Over six tables of people and the mail man were shocked at my plaid covered arms. Hopefully my new threads will help me blend in better. And then people will finally cease querying if I have ever seen snow. Come on people, southern California is not Siam.

Pumpkin Patch POINTS!!

This week was our pumpkin week.We planned to paint, chisel and carve jack-o-lanterns Sunday afternoon. Rain, sleet or snow to the pumpkin patch we'd a-go. Flying south to Sydney last October caused a 2012 Fall vacancy. Pumpkins, wool sweaters and cider were needed in double force this year.

The Great Pumpkin

After googling the options, we decided on a local heirloom patch nestled between two highways. Nourished on banana pancakes and Lutheran coffee, we crossed over the Red River into Minnesota. After nearly missing the small segway road, Goldie, our jeep, splashed her way to our puddlely destination. Exhibit A is a glimpse of what we found. 

Exhibit A

Hello? Anybody home?

Midwest Me

Outside Goldie's fogged windows lay a forlorn gourd garden. It seemed that the caretakers abandoned the patch at the first drop of rainy-snow, or snowy-rain, depending on one's personal prerogative. Perhaps these Midwesterns weren't as sturdy as I thought. Or perhaps they are just smarter than two California's willing to wade, doggy paddle and trudge through mud, for the sake of a pumpkin. Whichever the case Thor, the bestower of Midwest Points, awarded me 4 MIDWEST POINTS for my hearty devotion despite ambiguous October precipitation. 

                                                                   Exhibit B

Casually Braving a Snow Sprinkle

                                                        4  MIDWEST POINTS

Slippers Weather

Taking a cue from the community garden caretakers Preston and I headed someplace cozy. Home. Without pumpkins to lobotomize our schedule freed up for some sunday sleepies. It's thirty-two outside and for the first time this year our heat is on. Outside the damp mix of raindrops and snowflakes remind us that winter is coming. BUT NOT BEFORE I GET A PUMPKIN. 

Dressed for the Occasion

Forward

I am moving to a place I have never been before. It isn't the first time and probably won't be the last. The unknown and underrated always seem to know my name; and each calls to me at just the right moment. I fall for those places least likely to land on a "Top Ten Best Places to Vacation this Summer". And my gut just knows that Fargo North Dakota is going to be a new and special kind of home.


Bets have placed at how long I'll last. My Uncle Mike, has dibs on a Thanksgiving retreat. And yeah, I know it's cold. Well not really.

I have done my research, and discovered that:

1)North Dakota is covered in snow from October to May

2)-30 is a real temperature

3)People and even whole communities can survive in -30

4) There is a thing called "Wind Chill"


 I was raised in a hilly and warm suburb of Los Angeles, and other than a semester in Prague, Czech Republic I have never really lived, visited or been in snow. To clue you in to my clueless-ness I didn't even pack socks for Prague. But lucky for me, Central Europe has many socks and some pretty cool snow jackets too.

Me in my super sweet Czech-made snow jacket

 Franz Kafka Museum, Prague, CZ

After graduating college my boyfriend and I dove down under for the year. As our summer time Christmas rolled around our European friends moped about the unfestive warm weather and "inauthenticity" of  a sunshine filled advent. The Ozzy Nativity  felt like one of the many magical childhood Christmas Days I spent swimming in my Aunt and Uncle's pool.

Preston & I at our neighborhood's live Nativity

Ultimo, Sydney, AUS

But for the sake of newness and armed with a double dose of wanderlust, I find myself headed to the great plains of America. And I just cannot wait.