Chicago is on (in?) the arctic stream, my son told me in an email, answering my previous one comparing New York temperatures with Chicago temperatures. New York is often ten degrees warmer and a lot more exciting as far as I am concerned, but excitement is not what gets you outside and into the sun. Sun does that. Warmth does that. Which is what we seem to be missing this spring in Chicago: sun and warmth. On a day in Mid-May when we ought to be blooming happy as a lark, skipping along the leaf-studded streets with nary a worry on our minds, wearing, if not sleeveless or tank tops, something light, springy and airy. But what must we wear? Coats! Sweaters! Long pants! I even thought about wearing gloves yesterday but it is against my principles to wear winter gloves past April.

Fashion be  damned--it's not about fashion! It's about hope. Without hope we cannot live and hope dies in May when you look outside to see dark, rainy days and the temperature plunges to 40 degrees. What gives? Is this how you say Chicago? If so, then I say: New York!

Today the sun has deigned to shine. It is still only 46 degrees. I am stubbornly wearing my summer duds most days because they are fun, brightly colored and make me happy and because I packed all the winter ones away. That was way back in mid-April when my own personal sense of hope exceeded all reality. After two years here in the windy city, I have yet to comprehend why the weather is consistently so horrible here! Maybe it takes a lifetime. I don't know if I will be forced to find that out. 

Meanwhile, I have had to dig into the storage boxes and duffel bags to find what I am now wearing: sweatpants, boots and a coat to walk my daughter's dog. It just doesn't seem fair but one has to be practical--shivering with cold in mid-May when the problem can be easily solved with warmer clothes is stupid, and even though some people think I am, I insist, I am not stupid!

This is how you say Chicago.