It is a mystery to me how the Day O’ Love, also known as Valentine’s Day, got to be scheduled smack dab in the middle of winter.

My fellow Central Oregonians and I are hardly dressed for wooing of any sorts.  It is hard to tell exactly what lies beneath the many layers of clothing worn this time of year and there comes a point, if it gets cold enough, when you have to wonder if it’s worth the trouble to find out.

You can always tell when someone moved to the area during the summer.  They think that now that they live in a mountain town, they should show off their mighty, mighty manliness by driving oversized trucks with tires that are tall enough to dunk basketballs.

Big, honking gas hogs may have an advantage in the mud and in playing pedestrian “tag,” but when it’s icy; it’s another story.

The county scatters cinders and pours chemicals on the road but the sum effect on the ice is making it pointy and toxic.  Traction is a dream of summer as even monster trucks can go sliding backwards downhill much to the amusement of all except the occupants of said vehicle.  It’s hard to look cool or manly when sobbing.  The driver soon learns that neither four-wheel drive nor brakes, not even sticking out a foot Fred Flintstone-style, will assist in stopping the downward spiral.   We may disagree among ourselves on a lot of things, but it’s hard to win an argument with gravity.

Ever notice how the beautiful animals with curvaceous necks are always from someplace tropical?  That’s because when it’s cold, like it is here in Central Oregon during the winter months, necks become extinct.  The proper posture to maintain maximum body heat is to slouch over so as to remain upright in the gusty winds and to attach the shoulders to the ears. 

Being the high desert, Central Oregon has nearly 300 days of sunshine a year.  It’s just that when it is winter, the sun doesn’t work.  There’s no heat but it’s visible and it gives skiers that phenomenally sexy “eye-goggles tan” and yes; I am being sarcastic.  Go indoors when people take off their glasses and it’s like a Lone Ranger convention but not in a good way.  Tonto, himself, would not be able to keep a straight face.

The cold temperatures require outerwear that has yet to find a figure it flatters.  Michelin Man clones wearing puff-jackets waddle around town because in the winter, we cannot walk.

After the first snow of the season falls, it ices over.  Until the spring thaw, the streets and sidewalks are either invisible under layers of slosh or frozen over like sheets of glass.  Try walking heel/toe on ice and your gait will quickly turn into heel/butt/gurney.  Knowing that, locals have learned to lift and lower each step in one fluid motion that resembles the walking movement of Herman Munster only not as graceful.  Also, we have to make sure each step taken is a small one to remain upright which means we look like Mr. Tuddball from the old Carol Burnett Show.  This propulsion method results in an awkward rocking effect that causes some unfortunate individuals to nod off at unplanned times.  Why do you think the Pacific Northwest drinks so much coffee?  We’re trying to stay awake here, people! 

It’s quite a sight to see the raccoon-masked, no-necked, puffy, waddling, Herman Munster/Mr. Tuddball look-a-likes strolling around town or leaning against a street sign for a quick snooze or engaged in unplanned sliding.  Love is not in the air as it is too cold to breathe.

Now that’s not to say we don’t use the elements for our amusement.  It’s not unheard of that on those days where there is nothing good on television, the locals will waddle down to the traffic circles, or roundabouts as they are called here, to place bets on how many times a specific tourist will spin around without being able to find the traction to take an exit, any exit.  Bonus points are awarded if the visitor ends up in the middle of the roundabout art display as everyone here hates at least one or more of the roundabout art displays.  The newspaper op/ed page is filled with letters on a daily basis complaining about the sculptures or decorative plantings or lack thereof.  Central Oregonians are passionate about this issue and care deeply to the point of physical attacks on those who have opposing opinions. 

Just because it’s stupid doesn’t mean we can’t hate anyone who disagrees with us.

So until Memorial Day or later, we’ll have to identify each other by the color of our eyes or nose hair.  A little mystery is a good thing.

Full disclosure can kill a lot of passion.