Dear Minnesota,

You've treated me bad and you've treated me good. You're reliable in your chilly, snowy, Ijustwanttostayinsidesomedaysandforgetthattheworldexists ways. You've also tested my patience this winter, though I always pass those silly tests with high marks; it's a joke that I'm even quizzed on such frivolities.

I must say, we are a rather smashing duo this season, dear Minnesota. I'm adorable in my winter coat and boots and I have more gloves, arm warmers, hats and scarves to choose from than anyone I know...I'm learning to accessorize. And I kind-of like it.

With access to my friend's car every weekend this month, I've learned what it means to live on a Snow Emergency route, how to either drive in silence or accept what's on the radio, what it feels like to spin nearly three hundred and sixty degrees after catching a patch of ice, and though I knew how to do it, I got first-hand experience changing a blown-out tire.

Besides all my new driving experiences, I've perfected winter bus riding. I now know precisely how fast I have to jog-walk two blocks in four inches of snow in order to catch the early bus to get to work a half hour before my shift starts in the morning so I can recline comfortably in the back room reading the tabloids I'd never touch if anyone was around.

And I'd been so looking forward to living in Texas with the warmth, the sun, the dry ground: biking weather. But I've discovered you can definitely bike here any time of year (though I haven't done so myself because I'm not really that much of a badass...yet). What sane people can actually survive living in a world with only two seasons? People who don't get to live through four complete seasons are without.

So really, why would I choose to be anywhere but here*, dear Minnesota, when you are so adaptable? I've learned to share my twin bed with two body pillows as a barrier between my naked body and the naked wind outside. My towels always stay nice and toasty resting atop my radiator and baths wouldn't ever be as satisfactory without the nip in the air before submerging in the hot, bath bomb and bubble bar'd water.

I had been so ready to rid myself of you, Minnesota, to think of you as a high school friend, someone I could glance at in a yearbook and see every five or ten years. I was ready to box you right up and stuff you away. I was ready to move to somewhere new and exciting, but I forgot something incredibly important: Every day is new and exciting. I can be an adventurer every day despite where I live and thus, I am pleased to be here.


* Marquette, Michigan or Grand Marais, Minnesota are the only other places I'd consider living right now