In northern Minnesota, there's not a lot to get excited about. So we get excited about weather. I know, I know. How BORING. It really is. It's boring and sad and sometimes it makes me want to pretend I'm from the South instead, where they have MUCH worse things to worry about. But, in all honesty, there's no denying this accent.

The town I grew up in, a town of 500, holds the record for the coldest official temperature in Minnesota - the coldest official temperature east of of the Mississippi River, as a matter of fact - and that is 60 degrees below zero. Now, yes, 60 below is cold, but this happened eight years ago and people still never shut up about it. (So what if I'm one of those people?)

This summer, the psychotic lady who used to serve as the official weather watcher for my town moved away. The only people saddened by her departure were the weather folks, who no longer received their daily phone call from Miss Psychosis, raving about how well her 30-year-old, mentally and physically able (I'm serious), son beat out the one-legged black man in that race at the Special Olympics (I'm still serious). Oh, and the weather. They never hear about the weather anymore. And, sad as it is, people are INTERESTED in the weather in my hometown because it's so ungodly cold.

That and the next town over (it's not even a real town...more like a stupid, little township with a stupid, stupid name [Embarrass]) recorded an unofficial temperature of 64 below around the same time Tower set the record. The debate over the real cold spot has gone on for years and I wouldn't be a bit surprised if there has been some blood shed over it.

On the news they've been whining about how much they miss their Tower weather information, so my dad gave them a call and volunteered to take over. Now, I never imagined this would be such a fiasco. The whole thing is very entertaining to me, but when the weather lovers went to my house to set up the very important weather stuff in the basement and the yard, they said the Pioneer Press wanted to send someone along. For the trip to my dad's basement. To MEET the new weather watcher. It's a good three and a half hour drive to Tower from the Cities. Why, people? WHY?!

Luckily for my old man, the weather lovers wouldn't allow the ride-along. His name will be kept confidential, they said, because if they let it out, he would be "bombarded by the media." Does the media not have anything better to do?!

All this hoopla is making me second-guess my wish to never, ever in a million years be a journalist. My mom says it's too bad I hate journalism and everything it entails because now, she says, I have an "in." Isn't that foolish?

I COULD be a journalist if it involved just talking to my dad about the weather every day. As an added bonus, I could work from home!