It is thundersnowing as I write this, folks. THUNDERSNOWING. Is it wrong that I LOVE IT? I just came from a fifteen minute drive-the-dog-crazy-by-spinning-around-in-the-back-yard session and as long as we hold on to our power, I am on top of the world. We have shelter, food, wine, beer, a comfortable bed, Netflix Instant via Roku, my D3000, his Diana camera, long underwear, the aforementioned doggie and each other. Hello, snow day.
The wind hasn’t knocked off any of my outdoor plates so far. I took one off a few weeks ago due to an incessant rattle and it will go right back up as soon as this mess dies down.
People always ask me how I can live in Chicago after years spent in the Virgin Islands and California. My answer: Chicago is just that amazing. Or the Midwest in general is that amazing. Watching the seasons change, trouncing around in snow boots on the same blocks I traverse in flip-flops; there’s something beautiful about that to me. And I know how to dress. My dad always says that there is no such thing as inappropriate weather, just inappropriate clothing. Layer up accordingly.
Wind chimes work really great in thundersnow. Recognize.
Chicagoans/Midwesterners/Inclement-Weather-Inflicted-Folk: I hope you’re safe tonight.