As much as I pretend never to do so, I whine. Sometimes. Not a ton but I still do. Sometimes you do too, right?
(So I laid it on pretty thick (the whining thing).)
I’m being a little dramatic here but I don’t care for this weather at all. Not one bit. As a lifelong Chicagoan, I’m obviously always prepared but never ready for it. Never.
[And I have a husband home all day. The nasty weather has reduced the number of ways I have to entertain him…I’m kidding! It’s only 4:00pm and we’ve read some, played Jeopardy, made chili, watched Homeland, Shameless, and Masters of Sex (multiple episodes). Plus I got busted when the UPS man (who the dog and I know pretty well) rang the bell to deliver more books for which I am sort of on probation.]
Recently, Mary Schmich (a popular Chicago Tribune columnist who’s pretty funny) published an article called “The Rites of Passage for Becoming a Chicagoan” that I found interesting and true. In it, she provides a “short list” of things newcomer must “go through before attaining full Chicago citizenship.”
Here are two that pertain to today.
“Moving to Chicago does not make you a Chicagoan no matter what your driver's license says.
1. You buy the wrong winter coat until you buy the right winter coat.
If you've come to Chicago from a warmer place, you'll buy a winter coat when the weather gets nippy. You'll discover it's a jacket. When the weather gets even nippier, you'll buy a real winter coat. You'll learn it's a fall coat.
It may take you a decade to get a coat that keeps you as warm as you deserve to be, and that coat will be down. In other words, it will be ugly, no matter how hard it tries not to be.
You become eligible for the Chicago club only when you give into the truth that in winter you can't be both warm and cute and you'd rather be warm.
2. You buy the wrong winter boots.
See "wrong coat" above. The right winter boots never involve high heels.”
Oh so true! In Chicago, we are resided to either looking cute or being warm. There’s no overlap really.
I think I’ll take a little break from husband entertaining (kidding) to pull out the down coats and the ugly boots. Maybe he should lube up the snowblower.
It’s only just begun.