Blue heart, because your actual heart is currently a frozen cheese curd rattling around your chest cavity from November through April. This is love, Wisconsin style: emotionally frostbitten, mildly concussed from standing outside in negative nine degrees screaming at grown men playing football, and deeply committed to a Friday fish fry you've been thinking about since Tuesday.
It's a blue heart because the lake froze, the brandy old fashioned went down too easy, and somebody said "ope" while squeezing past you at the bar and now you're homesick for a place you never left. You love it here. You're also a little blue about it. Both things are true, and the melted cheese helps.
Soft enough that you'll keep reaching for it even when the laundry pile says otherwise, with a relaxed fit that handles couch, tailgate, and bubbler line with equal dignity. The print holds up wash after wash, so the only thing fading around here is your will to shovel the driveway again.
