Like most of you, I have an opinion about the proposed 75-foot-tall plastic nutcracker intended to enhance tourism by drawing travelers off I-90.
My opinion is, “Not in my back yard!”
However, I live on the north end of Luverne and the nutcracker will be on the south end of Luverne, so it won’t be in my backyard. Therefore, I’m good with the whole plan.
I’ve learned a great coping skill from my husband.
When I tell him something is really bothering me – like a crack in the drywall or a water spot on a ceiling that needs repair, he says, “Just don’t look at it.”
I’ve found the advice to be amazingly helpful. Things I no longer look at include the numbers on the scale, the still unpainted side of our house, and boxes of unsorted clothing in the basement.
I recommend the “just don’t look at it” approach to those of us who aren’t really that into nutcrackers.
When I head to Bomgaars for cat food, instead of looking at a 75-foot-tall specter looming over the highway, perhaps I will check out the Subway sign instead. I might note the current gas price at the station or see who’s parked at The Dawg.
Maybe I’ll pull into JJ’s and keep my eyes trained on a giant ice cream cone, or maybe I’ll adjust the car radio every time I drive by.
Don’t rule out the possibility the giant nutcracker will grow on us. Seeing his mammoth plastic nutcracker head appear on the horizon – when we are on I-90 driving just east of Beaver Creek – will remind us that we are almost home.
His stone cold eyes and menacing jaw line will seem to call, “Welcome back. I've been waiting for you.” (Did his eyes move, or am I just seeing things?)
His ramrod stiff arms would hug us if they could.
Obviously, we won’t always be viewing his face. Sometimes we will have to view our 75-foot friend from the backside and then, well, I recommend just not looking at it.