Grinch, Scrooge, Naysayer, Party Pooper

That's me. Here's why: According to our "digital weather center," it's 40.8 degrees outside. According to the calendar, it's January 27. According to the road map in my glove compartment, this is northern Minnesota. Most people are walking around delighted at the sunny, relatively balmy weather (except for the members of my afternoon class, who were mostly sleeping), and I - as a person who loves sun, warmth, grass, leafy trees, and open water - should certainly be doing the same.

But I'm not. Maybe it's because I've only been able to use my new cross-country skis once. Maybe it's because I'm an environmentalist and extremely concerned about global warming. Maybe it's because I have Norwegian heritage and I don't want to see my distant homeland swallowed by the ocean as a result of said global warming. Maybe it's because I firmly believe that any project undertaken should be done to the best of one's ability, and Nature's pitiful rendering of winter discourages me. Maybe it's because, as a native Minnesotan, I'm proud of my ability to withstand near-arctic weather, and I resent the fact that this winter has presented such a minor challenge. Maybe it's because I fear the loss of one of my favorite feelings: the levity of a long-awaited spring. Or maybe it's just because four month's worth of dog shit that my neighbor has never picked up is now gradually reappearing in the front yard.

Whatever the reason, I want snow and far-below-zero temperatures. Let the name-calling begin.