Well, it’s that time of year again. I’m not sure why it always seems to sneak up on me. I think this year, after suffering through last year’s horror of the Polar Vortex, I just couldn’t face the fact that winter would return. Again. I know…I know…the alternative isn’t much better. I’m pretty sure, anyway. So, I donned my mask of denial and refused to acknowledge the signs. Temperatures in the teens? Impossible. Snow? Don’t even THINK about it. My Winter-Denial-Mojo was in full swing. Unstoppable. Even the insufferable Christmas commercials on television were easily snuffed out with a click of the remote. Yes, this year would be different. No layering of clothes until I look like a stuffed sausage. No furry boots. No gloves, hats, scarves, long underwear or snow shovels to cramp my delusion. That’s what I thought, anyway…until I met my Waterloo. The ultimate obstacle. That’s right, I’m talking about that evil Elf on a Shelf. There is NO escape from that creepy stalker.
Tag Archives: polar vortex
Well, I’m back after a very long hiatus. If I’d been blessed with a good imagination, I would spin some great tale about my wild adventures to explain the absence. But, truth be told…I have just been experiencing a bit of a dry spell. Uninspired days, which have folded into weeks, most likely brought on by the arctic winter we’ve been experiencing this year. We, here in Chicago, or Chiberia as it’s since been re-named, have been buried under the evil white stuff for months. As soon as a path is shoveled down the driveway, the local news tells us of yet ANOTHER snowstorm headed our way. Add to that, the sub-zero temperatures and it’s no wonder I’ve been in a funk lately. I know the rest of the country has also been hit by this malevolent polar vortex. This is truly a moment when we as a nation can come together and moan, grumble, gripe, lament and, yes, grouse. (A thesaurus is truly a writer’s best friend)