
Snow in Minneapolis this morning. I know this should not be news, but it is a moment for which I've been waiting. I grew up in Iowa where there is plenty of snow but up here, winter is serious effing business and the moment the days start getting shorter, I can feel my level of axiety rise over the pending doom. I'm going to be cold. I'm going to be cold every day for what seems like the rest of my life. My feet will freeze, my skin will dry. But don't feel sorry for me because here's what I'm telling you... this is COMPLETELY my own fault. This is a situation of my own making and the situation is this:
1. We've chosen to live/work in what is basically a garage. D and I live/work in what could *positively* be described as a eclectic//unique/artisan/bohemain/fringe space that is a loft in the truest sense of that word in that this building was once something very industrial/mechanical and was invaded by artists and converted slowly and ram-shackley over the course of several years. It is charmingly cobbled together. It is voluminous. It is bright. It is everything that young creatives would want. However. Along with the volume and the light and the annoying self-pride that comes from living on a hidden island on the Misssissippi in downtown Minneapolis, there is little else. No real insulation, few double-pane windows, there's a furnace but no ductwork, there nothing between my toes and the cold concrete floor. This building should find somewhere else to live because like my Great Aunt Margrite, she's just not built for this climate.
2. The main source of heat for the studio is a wood stove. Wood heat is like a contact sport. It is a process. It requires commitment and planning. You got it start it, monitor it, tend it, tell it a story and then, there's the wood... the finding, the spliting, the stacking and re-stacking and moving it in and moving it out after it has burned to ash. All this and in the end... the studio still hovers around 60 degrees at waist level and 52 at the floor.
3. I don't have a proper winter coat. I just don't and come to think of it, I never have. My problem is that I can never find I coat I like and when I do, for some reason, I never buy it in a big enough size to fit me once I've put on my 4 layers of t-shirts, long-sleeve t-shirts, sweaters and scarves. I actually would have to take off clothes to put my coat on and that's just ridiculous.
So you see, it is my fault. The solution is to buy a coat, a big coat, and move to a heated, insulated place like normal people and stop complaining. Oh, did I mention that I dropped D off at the airport this morning and he's flying away to a beach in Central America for a week? Lucky bastard.
What are you doing this weekend? I'm sewing and napping and sewing and napping and tending the wood stove and drinking hot tea.