Sunday, March 07, 2004

ALL HAIL THE MITTEN

Sometimes you just have to wonder about inhabitants of the large northern sock-puppet. Maybe it's the cold. Maybe it's the cabin fever. Maybe it's a wacky genetic influence from the UP or Canada. Whatever it is, you can always count on Mittenites to be a little, well, off-kilter. Or in this case, on-kilter. In the dead of winter. Delivering ice, no less.



I really cannot throw stones in this case. It's not that I dash around in a kilt, but if you were driving around TunaVille today that was sporting rain with a dash of snowish slush mixed in, and wondered who was the crazy lady wearing snow boots and a t-shirt, mucking around the huge puddles in her yard, pointing excitedly at tiny green nubbins of new growth, I'd be guilty as charged.



In these parts, if the temperature is above freezing, you lose the coat. In the 40s? Short sleeved shirts. In the 50s? Shorts, or if you have access to a roof overhang -- a bathing suit. It isn't a matter of being insane. I prefer to think of it as excelling in the art of optimism.

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