Let It All Hang Out

"I'm so wired-up
Don't need no coffee in my cup
Let it all hang out."

_ Van Morrison

I'm pretty sure that my mom and dad have a love/hate relationship with my blog.

Or maybe hate/love.

Either way, I'm sure there are times when they read this blog and have a hint of pride.

Pride that somehow their youngest kid who couldn't figure out how to tie his shoes or button his pants by kindergarten has found a way to use words to make other people laugh. Or think. Or say "there's five minutes of my life I'll never get back."

But for every small bit of pride mom and dad might feel, it's quickly eradicated by the shame of my bluntness.

"Why do you have to write about hickeys and tongue rings?"

"Do you have to use profanity in every one?"

"Your mother wasn't real happy about the latest one you wrote."

I'd say the most awkward conversation I had with my parents surrounding this blog was the Parking Lot Date. And I explicitly put a warning for them not to read it.

"I know what you meant when you said it rhymed with 'palatial'"

The point is, there are many others in my life, like my parents, who sometimes think I put a little bit too much of myself out there on the Interwebz.

Whether it's through this blog, or on Facebook, or a Hawkeye message board here and there, I plead guilty to pretty much putting my entire life out there.

The highs and the lows. The insane date stories and the sappy man moments.

I'll talk about poop and I'll talk about boobs. Deal with it.

Why am I willing to do this on a blog, or on Facebook, to the shame of my loved ones?

Maybe it's because of who I am as a person in real life.

I've had more than my fair share of "Today Could Be Your Last Day On Earth" moments in my middle-aged life.

And as each day passes where I wake up and I'm not dead, the more I vow to just live my life as naked as possible. Not literally. Hope I didn't startle you.

Live deliberately. With meaning. And passion. And as yourself.

So, in summary, for you tech nerds out there:

WYSIWYG.

And for you non tech nerds:

"I am what I am." _ Popeye.

Life's not a dress rehearsal. This is our one shot.

So you may as well just let it all hang out.

Snowless in St. Paul

It's January 12.

And there's no snow on the ground in the Tundra.

This leads to some pissed off people in these parts.

Fisherman who are used to being out in their ice houses drinking Grainbelts are instead stuck at home on the couch drinking Grainbelts.

Soccer moms who are used to escaping their daily stress of work/kids/home through cross country skiing on the many beautifully groomed trails are instead escaping to the gym and working out on the treadmill.

Guys who would be heading out to hit the lakes and woods "up nort" on their sleds (snowmobiles to the non-Tundra people) are instead riding their bikes (motorcycle to the non-hipster people) around the lakes in the woods "up nort."

Hockeyheads who typically would be out on the many lakes playing pond hockey are instead forced to pay big money for ice time at the many indoor rinks to play old-time hockey.

And C_O's of companies all over Eden Prairie are upset that their golf trips to southern Florida or Mexico are looking less hipster now that golf courses throughout Minnesota are open.

Yep. There's a lot of pissy peeps in the state of Minnesnowta.

But not this guy.

I'm happy as hell, even with the 13 degree temperature as I drove home tonight, to not have to fend with snow and ice on my daily commute.

Chalk it up to when I rolled my car roughly a year ago, during a light snowfall.

And the fact that snow/ice usually doubles or triples my commute time.

After last winter, which ended up in the top 5 of all time for snowfall in the Twin Cities since they started keeping records, I will take a brown Winter.

You know it's a bad Winter when the people who were BORN in Minnesota complained. "Oh this is even a bit much for me, youbetcha!"

That was SO last Winter.

So excuse me if I don't shed a tear for the snow-loving freaks I call my neighbors THIS Winter.

If the current temperatures of 30 and below disappear in a week, and don't return, I'll do my happy dance.

Hell, in fact I enjoy it so much, I'm encouraging everyone I know to buy an SUV, to stop recycling, and to leave open cans of baked beans in cow pastures everywhere. Even IF my father insists I have a mancrush on Al Gore.

And with that note, I will end this blog entry.

Because I know that at this point, Mother Nature is about to bring karma back on my ass and show me she's The Boss.

I'll see you in May, when the snow melts here.

xoxox,
The Prisoner