Two weeks ago I was on my way into the corporate headquarters of the world's largest agriculture producer and marketer. Because much of the mid-west operates on a farmer's schedule, I was forced to drag myself into the office well before sunrise, silently cursing the fact that I wasn't still in bed. As I walked into the lobby half-awake/half-dead, I approached what appeared to be a woman dressed in a gigantic red foam vagina. Immediately I perked up. Finally something to crack Minnesota's squeaky clean image! I had approximately ten steps of gleeful excitement that there just might be a protest or [gasp] that a meth addict had somehow stumbled into the lobby in a drug-induced rampage. I tingled anticipating the possibilities.
But just as soon as my hopes for a more thrilling Midwest were lifted, reality kicked back in. My dreams of a foam vagina were squashed as I realized she was actually dressed a tbone steak promoting a meat raffle to benefit the food kitchens for the larger Minneapolis area. I didn't end up winning the raffle, but I think I was actually more disappointed that something that had started with so many possibilities resulted in something so mundane.
Later that same day as I was making my sprint to the airport (by far my favorite activity each week), I was stuck behind a semi-truck transporting chickens on their way to slaughter. This reminded me of a discussion I had earlier about saving money by cramming more chickens into a space intended for one (let's set aside ethics on this one). But before I could get too lost in the calculations and the quality of life debate, I was jolted into a momentary panic. I was engulfed in feathers and speeding down a highway in near whiteout conditions. Windshield wipers are vital in situations like this.That same day I decided that I am in fact a city girl.
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