Orientation training started today, so summer is officially over. Here’s what happened this summer:
May
- Finals end.
- Amber graduates.
- Sweaty dogs ugh.
- Heat, 32-mile bike trips, dating.
- We go to the lake, it rains, Harley’s pissed.
Orientation training started today, so summer is officially over. Here’s what happened this summer:
May
I gave some snark during the dog walk:
Mousy Girl: “Oh god, I can’t believe someone would just tie them up like that!”
Gawky boy: “Yeah, how pathetic and inhumane.”
Mousy Girl: “Too many bad dog owners in the neighborhood…”
Me (coming out of the cafe) : “They’ve been pissing for the past five miles, so they can wait five minutes while I pee for a chance.”
The temperature is above freezing for once, so I decide to take the Rottweiler on her first run.
We reach the Lake of the Isles before I realize that Gertrude does not run, at all.
She trots for a few seconds and then plants her bum on the sidewalk like, “Oh, you think you can rush me, foo?”
I panic. I am stuck in a park, during the daytime, with a dog!
This is a disaster.
Walking in a dog in Minnesota is like wearing a red polo in a Target store: an invitation for harassment. Walking a dog feel like having a big sign across my chest: “I AM APPROACHABLE AND WILL LISTEN TO YOUR OVERSHARE!”
The cliché of “Minnesota Nice” is really a euphemism for “Minnesota Batshit-crazy.”
The constant conversation-starting and overshare1 makes me feel like I walked into one huge group home. Strangers tell me about any dog they – or a friend – has owned, their AA meetings, their relatives’ social security checks, their children, juicy canker sores… it’s…just…terrible.
But I have a plan! I turn up my MP3 player so loud that everyone will know that I can’t hear them and then just avoid eye contact! Brilliant!
A few people actually wave and invade my personal space to get my attention, but I flash a curt smile and keep walking. The message is clear: “Sorry if I appeared approachable. I’m not. Bye now.”
The long dog walk was also a bit of a chore because the Rottweiler is so awkward. She dives into chest-deep snow banks and flails around as if she’s swimming. This is cute for exactly 12 minutes before I yank the leash and drag her home.
This Gertrude after she scaled a retaining wall:
What an awkward duckling. I think she suits me.
And my Minnesota-induced social anxiety is not limited to dog walks…
Edit: I wrote a rather lengthy post about the “crazy” I’ve encountered in Minneapolis, but I had some unexpected time to think due to internet problems and I decided that I was unfair.
Here are my findings of fact (what’s the point of a JD if I can’t inject legalese into blog posts?):
Heck, many of my now-regular readers thought this blog was socially inappropriate when I started law school. A flamboyant, non-anonymous law student? Blogging? Tweeting? What? Gasp. “That’s inappropriate!”
Not anymore. One year later, Huma and I aren’t shocking at all, are we? Watch us give fashion claws…
“Social appropriateness” is a safe, but also a surefire way to be bland. It’s just like how Kelly Clarkson sells, but we how really prefer Madonna, Gaga, and Beyonce.
My problem with my Minneapolis crazies is that I constantly feel harassed, but this may be the price of living downtown in any city.
At least I’m not bored.
1 And before you go there, there’s a difference between a blog that YOU have to look up and someone randomly oversharing on the street to a complete stranger. And if you have a problem with my foursquare updates, I won’t be offended if you unadd me from facebook, dear.
