Why do June days fly by so fast while cold February days drag on endlessly?
That's just a rhetorical question. Don't spend any time scratching your head over it. There's no real answer.
Don't believe what those nature books say about these days being the longest days of the year. A beautiful, sunny day in June flies by faster than the blurred numbers on a gasoline pump.
Minnesotans treasure their summer days in a way that no Californian could ever imagine. How dull to wake up in Los Angeles and walk out the door to the same old, same old, 74 degrees and sunny weather.
For winter-weary Midwesterners, the privilege of feeling the sun's warm rays in the early morning, dressed in only a T-shirt and shorts, is nothing short of a miracle. To think that the mid-day sun, millions of miles away from us, can generate enough heat to create a bead of perspiration on a middle-aged man's brow is truly astounding.
When it's so hot that you sweat without working you know it's truly summer. The driveway is hot on your bare feet. The back of your shirt sticks to the chair in a room without air conditioning. Entering your parked car is like walking into a hot oven. Dogs lap up water at the same dish they seemed to ignore most of the winter.
Bring it on I say.
The winters last so long in Minnesota that I'll revel in the sticky, hot days of June, July and August. I crave the sun's hot rays.
Don't misunderstand me, though. I'm not saying I want to work in this weather. My heart goes out to those folks who have to labor outside for their paycheck in the summer. Road construction crews who are pouring tar on some highway or carpenters who are laboring on a hot roof would laugh to hear how we pampered office workers whine when the air conditioning is on the fritz. They know the work has to get done whether it's 60 degrees or 104 degrees.
The key to comfort in the summer is inaction. Serious, deliberate, calculated inaction. I've always contended that I can stay comfortable without air conditioning as long as I can dress comfortably, recline in front of a fan, remain hydrated and lie very, very still.
I've tested this theory as summer chores piled up, and it works.
Thousands of people drive back and forth on Interstate 90 through South Dakota each summer. Mount Rushmore is the usual destination. There's really not a lot of places to stop along the way, so a motorist can often run into the same recreational vehicle or same motorcyclist at each of the tourist stops.
On my family's recent trip out west I recognized the same vehicles I had seen at the Mitchell Corn Palace a few hours earlier when we later stopped at Wall Drug in Wall, S.D. Much to my young daughter's amusement, I even ran into an old girlfriend whom I hadn't seen in a dozen years at the Mitchell Corn Palace.
Now that we've conquered the Y2K bug here's the next technological challenge I'd like to pose to those tech types who are not as mechanically challenged as I am.
Have you ever used those automatic faucets that dispense water only when you place your hands under them? If you're having a bad hair day, it's impossible to wet your pocket comb underneath the faucet without getting your hands all wet again. The faucet acts as if nothing is there when the fine teeth of a comb are placed underneath it.
Can we get some sort of government grant to look into this problem?
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