snow plowing

Hello 2009! It's the middle of winter!

Our family student housing complex scheduled a snow plowing day to remove all the accumulated stuff from our many parking lots. 

I was unwilling to put my boots and coat on to go outside for a photo, so unfortunately you get a nice bird's eye view from our bedroom window - screen and all. That's University Facility Management zipping by in the SUV.

They threaten to tow your car if you leave it in the lot today after 8 am. At 10 minutes to 8, sure enough, several cars were still in the lot and they had already started plowing. By 8:15, some residents were frantically rushing around outside with unzipped coats and bedhead, scurring to get their car out before the tow truck appeared. 

Such a relief to see all this old snow go. It's hard to park and back up in a lot full of old snow.

But so much effort! These plowers will be working all day, scooping, dumping and hauling. 

To make matters better (or worse?), it's snowing outside today. What do you think? Will plowers be frustrated by a situation that might seem like a never-ending battle? Or will they be thankful for job security?

Those hardworking Minnesotans. 

Why Sarah Palin sounds Minnesotan

From a Salon.com article:

"Others have wondered whether her accent hails from Idaho, where her parents are from. But dialect features tend to come from one's peers, not one's parents, and Palin spent her childhood in Alaska's Mat-Su Valley, which is where she got her distinctive manner of speaking. The next town over from Wasilla, Palmer, has a large settlement of Minnesotans—who were moved there by a government relief program in the 1930s—and features of the Minnesotan dialect are thus prominent in the Mat-Su Valley area. Hence the Fargo-like elements in Palin's speech, in particular the sound of her "O" vowel."

What is Minnesota Nice?

I've just settled in by now. I've exited the phase where I tried to act Minnesota Nice (with a grudge) and I've passed into a phase or existence in which I just am. I think less about how I act, and less about how Minnesotans sometimes act, and I just exist. It's better.

I have this friend from school who grew up in the country of Georgia. She's bold, blunt, often crabby. And fabulously, refreshingly honest. She loves honesty in return. I always feel more like myself after I've been around her.

She's doing an assignment about diversity in which she's pushing the envelope of the criteria and choosing to document evidence of the Minnesota Nice phenomenon and how niceness can increase a sense of societal oppression. I know what she means! I love this idea.

I'm curious to know what comes to mind for you? What could she document/photograph? What is Minnesota Nice, specifically, literally? How does it play out?

p.s. I'm back on the blog! I intend to post some notes about pre-emptive measures I'm taking to brace myself for the winter, which the Farmer's Almanac is predicting to be a doozy again. Until then!

disbelief and relief

I've had a few moments lately where I am overwhelmed at the relief that it really is summer. And I therefore realize that I truly speculated - rather subconsciously - that I'd moved to a perpetually-frigid and terrible place. I think that lack of logic (considering I moved here during the summer and experienced the sweat that came with it) might indicate that winter was just a tad traumatic for me.

It happened first last Saturday at the farmer's market. I bussed to downtown St Paul and bought cucumbers, spinach, herbs, and a bouquet of red peonies. The moment I entered the bustling market and saw the green spread on tables everywhere - a site I took for granted every Saturday of every month in Oakland - I almost cried. I said under my breath, "It really happened." It really got warm enough to sprout anything and it stayed warm enough to grow it.

The second time was two days ago when I walked outside in a t-shirt and decided to leave a long-sleeved shirt at home rather than tote it around in case it got cold. I realized, "it really did warm up. It really is summer." I choked up - seriously!

Today it also happened. L. and I joined a CSA and tonight picked up our first share of produce of the season. It now really is summer! Proof exists in my fridge: these beauties of kale, spinach, radishes, strawberries and lettuce were not shipped in from California or Mexico or Chile! They were grown and picked within an hour's drive. Such relief.

I will live this summer unlike I've lived any other summer before.

one year

With little inclination toward remembering (much less celebrating) anniversaries, in about a month it would have occurred to me that I moved to Minnesota somewhere around a year ago. And I wouldn't have cared much.

L's great at remembering the dates, however, and had me primed a few days ago to recognize that this day right now is the day one year ago that I rolled my little sawed-off-shotgun-of-a-car into the western Minnesota plains. When I said, how do you remember these things?, I'm happy to report that her reply was something like, it's the day the love of my life moved to my home, you knucklehead! Oh, sweetie.

I've hardly left since I got here. I'm less nomadic than I used to be and with gasoline prices being what they are, I've spent a whole year minus about two weeks hunkering down in this great state.

Great?, you might be saying. Isn't this the THOSE CRAZY MINNESOTANS blog?

It's really undeniable. I had so much to complain about from November through April, that's true, and I am truly dreading the end of this gorgeous summer weather, but I cannot deny the fact that everything else works out for me here. It's uncanny and it's trippy and I haven't stopped pondering the good things that work out, almost effortlessly, for a year and half. Since before I moved here, many things have happened to make my life more close to how I want it to be, with one catch: I have to be in Minnesota to make it happen.

Maybe tonight I'll have my first beer since last August and I'll toast to this curious and full basket on my handlebars of life. Something's right, I tell 'ya, and I have Minnesota to thank for it. Here's to just completing one of the most satisfying years of my life!

lost momentum... and upcoming vacation!

K, so I got no new ideas for TB stories now that I got myself into the commitment of coming up with a week-and-a-half's worth. Oh well.

I'm going on vacation. That's right. Me and my woman are heading west. This'll be the last financial hurrah before we're both graduate students and living in shitty & CHEAP graduate student housing.

We're driving from LA to Seattle and camping along the coast the whole way. That's right, stimulus check: we're taking you to Cali. If you want some of that great roadtrip mail art we're famous for, just let us know where you live and we'll send off something rad from the road.

It'll be a good way to say a final goodbye to Minnesota winter cuz' by the time we get back, the garden should be greener and the temperature should be quite warm. I am so ready!

6 days

I just took my 7th to last pill today and realized I'd miscounted. I only have 6 days left now. I thought I'd reveal my miscalculation today rather than at the end when it would be anticlimactic.

I'm writing a final paper and applying for a job. It's a Saturday night. So, I'll leave it at that for today.

May you all enjoy your healthy livers and lungs in thoughtful memory of my plagued ones.

8 days

Having latent TB in Minnesota versus having latent TB in California (which is where it was first detected) were distinct experiences. Wouldn't have guessed that, would you have?

I believe four different nurses in California read my skin test results. Three of the four were nurses whose sole job was to work with TB patients. They knew what they were doing and they did it like it was the most important thing in the world.

I imagine them going to happy hour together once in awhile and sitting back to talk about all the TB cases they'd had that week. "Ooh, that blood and septum case, goodness!" One would say, needing catharsis about the most advanced patient of the week. "It's a good thing we can drink 'cuz that guy has enough antibiotics to shut down his liver in a week if given alcohol! We have to call him every day and make sure he's complying with his meds!"

When I did my own research and got scared of the side effects of the prophylactic antibiotics those nurses tried very hard to convince me to start immediately, I stopped talking to that clinic. Then, another county nurse started to call me. About once every two months for a year I got a call from her. She was calling to see if I'd started my meds yet and if not, did I need more information? Was I sure?

The thing about taking the latent TB meds is that it's not required, but due to a worldwide public health campaign to deal with the current TB epidemic, there are all these TB police out there calling people like me. Pimping out their meds. Losing sleep at night over the ones who refuse. Sigh.

In Minnesota: I got a primary doctor, walked in, said, "I have latent TB. I think I want to take the meds." He said, "Oh. I'll get you a prescription after we do another skin test. And, well, since you're not quite 30, we don't have to do any routine blood tests. You'll be fine. Just take it." I had to educate him about the side effects. I speculated that I was the first patient he'd seen with TB exposure. He was scarily laid back about it. Then, I get meds, and nothing more from him or the clinic.

If those nurses in California had ever heard a yes from me they'd probably have thrown a party, in the bar. They'd have had a drink for/over me and reinforced their clout with each other. "See? We just have to believe in this work. It's so important. We can eradicate TB, one person at a time!" I imagine they'd have no fights with their spouses for a good, long week after that.

Instead, I'm in Minnesota. Not California, the land of immigration where "foreign" communicable diseases drift in like pollen pods. Minnesota doesn't have as much TB. So, the doctors and nurses who don't work with many refugee/immigrant populations don't see many TB cases. I know, we have refugees and immigrants here; we have a lot of them. But nothing compares to places like California and New York for immigration, and the nurses there have a whole different job cut out for them.

So, in Minnesota, I get major patient autonomy and I get to take my meds in peace. I get to schedule my own blood work at the end of my treatment when I please. Hell, I think they'd just forget about me if I never mentioned anything about ending. I really liked having ease, privacy and complete control over this decision.