Moving right along…I received some feedback about my first attempt at the blog. I realized that I pretty much just complained about the weather and that it wasn’t terribly interesting or exciting, and that I need to be more positive. As you may have learned from the tone of entry #1, being positive isn’t my strong suit in the middle of winter! So here goes, entry #2, short and hopefully a little sweeter:
I woke up this morning to Glen’s alarm clock, which unfortunately is set to go off about an hour after mine. Jumping up immediately and racing through the morning routine, I remembered that the weather report called for a couple inches of new snow overnight. Sure enough, everything was coated with a nice fresh layer when I got outside. The upside is that it covered up the grimy, salty mess that I complained about yesterday and improved the view on the very slow drive in to work.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
This Time of Year
Well, I've got to start somewhere. And at this time of year, the main thing on my mind is keeping warm, so I suppose that's as good a place as any.
When Glen and I moved this summer, I was stunned to find that I personally own no less than 6 scarves, 5 hats, 8 pairs of gloves, two pair of snow boots, and three winter coats. I had an entire storage bin of winter accessories. (Practically my whole summer wardrobe fits in another one.) Even all geared up, I'm still always the coldest person in the room.
This Chicago winter has been brutal. We've had a ridiculous number of snowfalls, most of which have been immediately followed by arctic cold. Just when the cold lets up, it snows again, repeating the seemingly never-ending cycle. And it's not pretty. When the snow starts falling early in the season, you can't help but think how beautiful it looks - a nice little layer of soft, fluffy white stuff covering the city. Now, everywhere you look you see dirty, salty, rock-hard piles of nastiness. The temperature hasn't risen above freezing for more than a day or so in weeks, not nearly long enough to melt much of anything. What snow does disappear seems to do so by sublimation.
My car, once a lovely champagne color, is now the dull, ashen gray of a corpse. I can't wash it because it would just freeze all the windows and doors shut - not that I've opened a window in weeks, mind you. Yesterday evening when I looked out the window I couldn't tell if it had snowed again or if it was just the reflection of the salty crust that covers the parking lot and cars. (It was the salt.)
A few weeks ago I went to have my hair done. It had snowed overnight and into the morning, and I didn't think I'd be able to park at the salon, so I took the bus. I figured I'd be doing the Earth a favor and saving myself a headache. On my way home I got off the bus and, as soon as the bus pulled away, was immediately splattered by a snowplow. I marched straight inside, threw my clothes into the washer, started the fire, and poured myself a glass of wine.
When Glen and I moved this summer, I was stunned to find that I personally own no less than 6 scarves, 5 hats, 8 pairs of gloves, two pair of snow boots, and three winter coats. I had an entire storage bin of winter accessories. (Practically my whole summer wardrobe fits in another one.) Even all geared up, I'm still always the coldest person in the room.
This Chicago winter has been brutal. We've had a ridiculous number of snowfalls, most of which have been immediately followed by arctic cold. Just when the cold lets up, it snows again, repeating the seemingly never-ending cycle. And it's not pretty. When the snow starts falling early in the season, you can't help but think how beautiful it looks - a nice little layer of soft, fluffy white stuff covering the city. Now, everywhere you look you see dirty, salty, rock-hard piles of nastiness. The temperature hasn't risen above freezing for more than a day or so in weeks, not nearly long enough to melt much of anything. What snow does disappear seems to do so by sublimation.
My car, once a lovely champagne color, is now the dull, ashen gray of a corpse. I can't wash it because it would just freeze all the windows and doors shut - not that I've opened a window in weeks, mind you. Yesterday evening when I looked out the window I couldn't tell if it had snowed again or if it was just the reflection of the salty crust that covers the parking lot and cars. (It was the salt.)
A few weeks ago I went to have my hair done. It had snowed overnight and into the morning, and I didn't think I'd be able to park at the salon, so I took the bus. I figured I'd be doing the Earth a favor and saving myself a headache. On my way home I got off the bus and, as soon as the bus pulled away, was immediately splattered by a snowplow. I marched straight inside, threw my clothes into the washer, started the fire, and poured myself a glass of wine.
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