Well, now that I have experienced one of the longest Minnesota winters in recent history, I think I can safely say this: I prefer snow in May to heat and humidity in November.
When people asked why I wasn't worried about moving to Minneapolis, I shrugged. I like cold weather, I told them. (Then I went behind their back and made a really passive agressive video about them.)
You'll see, they said. You're going to wish you never left. You haven't experienced real winter.
Sure, I have! I replied. One time I went to Chicago and wore a scarf and light jacket! AND, there is a photo of me as a baby building a snowman on my high chair in a freak Houston snowstorm.
They were right, of course. With the exception of three early childhood years in Holland, I was born and raised in Texas and Louisiana. Winter was a three-day stretch in December where the temperature dipped to 37 degrees.
But you know what? I just had a feeling I would be okay.
In Louisiana, my entire life I've dreaded spring, because I know that after spring comes summer and with it, the sticky feeling of being trapped in my own skin -- sweaty, pale skin that I don't think was ever meant to be exposed to sunlight.
I can't explain why I can't stand the feel of sweat pooling on the backs of my knees, or sweaty curls stuck to the back of my neck, or the smell of hot pavement after a 90 degree rainstorm. I just know that by the end of a Louisiana June, most of the time I just want to curl up in a cool, dark corner for the next 4 months, when I can finally walk outside and feel a chill in the air.
The point of my post: hot weather makes me uncomfortable.
You know what else makes me uncomfortable? When you're enjoying a nice lunch on a patio, and someone at your table -- who, in his defense, is not from this country and possibly isn't too familiar with American History -- decides to make a mask to entertain the child at the table who is quickly growing restless.