[Please note The far north is Mason City, Iowa & the following text is borrowed from face book & posted with permission and the only claim I own to it is that the author is my daughter.]
To all my southern friends and family: Very soon it will be "that time of year" once again and I think we need to head into this with a different mind set so as to preserve our relationships, my sanity and any possible shred of respect that I might ever gain from my neighbors.
Soon I will commence to whining and complaining about all sorts of weather related issues including but not limited to the snow plows, snow, ice, the cold, the wind, the blowing snow, slushy roads, the ice, the snow....I know ya'll enjoy responding to this whining by telling me that you're wearing shorts and flip flops while Christmas shopping or hanging out at the beach for Valentine's Day.
While amusing to you, bless your hearts, this response is so very inappropriate. If my whining is a cause of irritation you have several options - 1) unfriend me until Spring (aka mid-May), 2) just shake your head and ignore my whining because you love me, OR 3) you can do the polite, loving thing, mind your Southern manners and just respond with "bless your heart" and then laugh at me privately.
While I cannot, will not, promise to stop whining but when you are whining in August about needing skin grafts because all the skin on the back of your thighs melted into your car seat I won't tell you that we're enjoying a late night bonfire and having to wear sweat shirts. When you shower and get dressed and walk out your door only to look like you showered with your clothes on, I won't tell you that our high temp in July is 85. When you're buying popcicles only to have them turn into kool-aid with a stick before you get to your car I won't tell you that we're grilling out in the middle of the afternoon in late July and not breakin a sweat. I promise I won't laugh and say "humidity? what's that like?".
I appreciate your cooperation.....assuming you intend to give it, bless your heart. Deanna Harrison-Glass