Minnesota, the weirdness continues

I love Minnesota. I really do. But it’s a strange place. And frankly, I think it has it out for me. Minnesota has produced more of my ex-girlfriends than any other state, which doesn’t make a lot of sense, because I never really spent much time there. And the three months I actually did live in Minnesota – a lovely little town called La Crescent, in an apartment complex I almost burned down in a chicken/stove-related incident – I couldn’t get a single date. The Gopher State is cruel, and I’m not just talking about the winters or the fish recipes*. Oh, but Minnesotans, the people, are absolutely great. They will definitely dump you treat you to some good ol’ fashioned hospitality. I should know promise.

Speaking of food, did you know that in Minnesota no one uses the word casserole? You might have heard everyone there refers to a casserole as “hot dish.” Same thing. Different name. Only Minnesota. OK, technically, some people in South Dakota and North Dakota say hot dish, but honestly, in the winter with the snow blowing sideways, who can really tell if they’re in North Dakota or a Minnesota?

*If anyone ever offers you “lutefisk,” shoot them in the chest with a bazooka and drive as hard as you can for the state border. No jury outside of Minnesota would convict you on a bazooka-shooting, given the circumstances. I’m telling you, community service, at most.

 Did you know there is no “Duck, Duck, Goose” in Minnesota? It’s called “Duck, Duck, Gray Duck” there, which brings up a myriad of questions, starting with, Why in the world would I use the word “myriad?” That deserves community service.

But a better question is, Why a gray duck? Are they more aggressive than regular ducks? Andy why would you run around a circle to get away from a duck? Now a goose, sure, I’d run like Prefontaine from a goose. I have. Most people have. A goose will beat you half to death with its beak before you can scream, “MY COMFORTER ISN’T EVEN DOWN!” And they’re big. Really big. They throw those massive wings out and it’s terrifying.

And an even better question is, how do the people of one state have an entirely different name for a famous childhood game than the rest of the world? I’ve never gotten a great answer to that, other than Minnesota has some quirks. This is the state famous for its 10,000 lakes, but there are actually more like 12,000 lakes in Minnesota, maybe even closer to 15,000, depending on your size requirements for lake status. Point is, what state downplays its most prestigious fact? It’s on the stinkin’ Minnesota license plate. Can you see Arizona referring to the Grand Canyon as “Our good-sized ditch?”

What I’m working toward, is the most recent Minnesota phenomenon of weirdness. I was alerted to this by a Facebook post of a meterologist named Bill Graul*. Today, at 4:25 p.m., (CDT), it was 99 degrees in Owatonna, Minn. And at the exact same time, in Duluth, Minn., it was 39 degrees. I realize it’s a big state, but that’s 60 degrees difference and those two cities are only 200 miles apart. Unless Owatonna switched to Kelvin thermometers, that’s freakish, even by Gopher State standards.

*Bill and I were once in the same bowling league. Great guy. Really good bowler. I’m guessing about a 200 average. In case you’re wondering, I was most improved bowler three years in a row in that league, which should tell you where I started. Birthday party bowler.

That’s your national weather update, for May 19, 2009. Good people of Owatonna, you might want to dig around for the jacket you put away too early. Winter is just up the road.