The stages of Chicago cold. (My L.A. Homies Can Keep Their Pretty Little Mouths Shut)

Today is the first bitter cold day for 2005. Mars and I have yet to turn on the heat this year. Heating costs are to soar and the thought of dipping into clothing funds or travel funds to pay a freakin’ utility bill is abhorrent. I bought a bunch of hand knit ponchos and long wrap sweaters at the thrift store for a reason. So, as we watch ‘Lost’ tonight, we will cuddle under our blankets, cover our cold noses and feel thankful we weren’t on Oceanic Flight 815. Moving on…

This is my 8th winter in Chicago. Each year, we brace for, resent, endure and ultimately accept that Chicago weather is the shittiest winter weather in this country. Flat as a pancake, no protection from mountains or hills, and the great (smelly, polluted, far too big) Lake Michigan to the East makes us the meteorological bitch of the Midwest. Oh, I must mention the nasty ass Chicago River that flanks my office building to the West adding a delicious chill to the sweeping wind, presenting a nice challenge to the capabilities of any scarf, hat, gloves or coat.

After eight winters, I have developed somewhat of a system to deal with the erratic weather of the Windy City. I know this nickname originated from political connotation, but c’mon, aside from Ellensburg, Washington (Whoo Hoooo!), this is the only other place where the wind has swept me off my feet. Couple the wind with freezing temperatures and precipitation and you have what I call ‘The Little House on the Prairie Effect.’ This is on the more severe end of the spectrum. Some days it’s just wind, sometimes just precipitation, sometimes it’s that lovely, sunny, crisp day that makes you want to go outside. Mostly, though, it’s cold and sloppy.

City dwellers, for the most part, are pedestrians. I walk an average of 40 minutes a day just to get from home to work and back. The thought of leaving my bed in the winter is enough to make me cry. In order to make this bearable, I spend a lot of time watching the weather forecasts and pre-planning my winter weather outfits. Layers are the key. When the temperatures start dropping in October you’re wise not to go right to the winter coat. Rather you should layer sweaters or invest in suede or leather. I am partial to the wool wrap. Don’t wear gloves or heavy tights. Wear hats and scarves that offer no protection from the weather, but are purely for fashion. The point is to start toughening up your skin. Even if you’re chilly, tough it out as the current 45 degrees will feel like springtime come November.

Next, when daytime temps are within freezing (below when you factor the wind chill); you need to bump up the outer gear. It’s time to put on your winter coat. (Just your wool one mind you, DO NOT wear he goose down or the multi layered North Face just yet.) Hats, scarves and gloves are also acceptable at this point. You may also break out any lined wool slacks. Feel free to layer sweaters and long sleeves too. On precipitation days be prepared with a weather proof coat, shoes and unless it’s snowing, an umbrella. People in Chicago carry umbrellas in the snow. They look really stupid.
When the temperature falls below freezing degrees, but above 15 degrees you must add layers. I’m a fan of two pairs of tights, but beware of athlete’s foot. Long underwear is a great option too. I learned the hard way that thongs are an issue. I’ve dealt with butt freeze for the sake of the not having a disgusting panty line, but beware that you’ll have to suffer for it. You may want to have some lined footwear at this point, frozen toes are no fun. Definitely invest in a fancy pants parka with zip out liners or a long, puffy goose down coat. I scoffed for years before I realized that the goose down is so effective that you don’t need as many bulky layers. Mine is white with a hood and I look like a Storm Trooper. Mars makes me run and do the turn around and shoot while still running move, while making “bew, bew, bew” gun noises.

Below 15 degrees, is when pride must go out the window if you want to stay warm. I hearken back to the sub zero weather in the winter of ’95 where I marched 25 minutes across campus looking much like an Ewok with my fleece pants on my head and the legs wrapped around my face. It was very effective. Yes, I referenced Star Wars twice. Something about hard core outer wear I guess. Do whatever you have to do to keep covered from head to toe. Don’t be afraid to look fat. Go so far as to wear sunglasses or goggles to keep your eyes warm. Cold eye feels weird and makes you tear up, which freezes to your face, which sucks.

Well below zero hits this region a few times a year, thankfully, it doesn’t stay too long. My advice is to call in sick. Sometimes it’s just inhumane to put yourself through such frigid temperatures.

The point of these stages is so the severe won’t feel as severe. I stand by my stages, even though I may just be fucking with my mind. This is all a coping mechanism for dealing with the wrath of Chicago winter. Work, rehearsal, life, it won’t stop for weather, so unless I want to drop out of life for 1/3 of the year, I have to deal.

Here are some other tips given to me by friends, some of whom have dealt with Midwest winters the whole life.

• Drink copious amounts of red wine.
• Laugh heartily at the skinny blond clone bitches standing in lines at stupid bars in identical black tank tops and open toed shoes.
• Wear socks on your hands.
• Wear leg warmers for actually keeping warm and not for some stab at retro fashion.
• When in need of a cab, call one ahead of time and have them pick you up at your front door.
• Eat twice as much food as usual.
• Go tanning? Yeah, someone swore by that. Just don’t get orange. You’ll look like an ass.
• Only venture out to places with adequate heat.
• Caulk your cracks.
• Do that plastic covering stuff on your windows.
• Cook a lot and enjoy the ovenous heat.
• Warm pants on the head double as a hat and a scarf. Think Lawrence of Arabia or Combat Ewok.
• Hair dry your body when getting out of the shower.
• Keep a warm robe in your bed with you and put it on before you step out of it.
• Use heating pads and electric blankets.
• Wear snow boots when there’s snow. I don’t mean Uggs either, jerks who wear Uggs with mini skirts.
• Embrace the Russian peasant look with multiple wool wraps.
• Eat hot foods.
• Exercise in your house.
• Run from the television to the bathroom so you won’t notice the cold.
• Have your husband start the car well before you have to get in it.
• Marvel at how tough you’ve become in the face of another Chicago winter.

I’m sure there are more. I welcome any suggestions. Locals, God speed. West Coasters, the Seattle gloom is a welcome gloom.

Much love,
Kerri, Durla, KSan.

Win or Die Trying

Ain't that the truth? Anyone who saw the Chicago White Sox in any of their post season glory could see that their mantra, "Win or Die Trying" is so much more than words. I've been a baseball watcher all of my life. From my Spring and Summer afternoons and evenings watching my brother and my friends to visiting the imploded King Dome to see the Seattle Mariners. We cheered our hearts out long before Griffey, A-Rod, The Big Unit, Pinella and Ichiro. In fact, I had already moved away by the time the Mariners got really hot and a beautiful new facility, Safeco Field. I lived in Delaware where I could either be a Phillies fan or an Orioles fan, I chose neither and still clung to Seattle. I lived in Boulder, CO. As IF I would cheer for the stupid ole Rockies. In fact, being from Seattle I don't believe I'm allowed to root for any Denver teams. Then in 1998 I moved to the city of Chicago and I learned very quickly that I had to make choice. While I'd never lose my allegiance to the Mariners, I knew without cable I'd never see a game and I'm not going to read the confusing sports stats. So unless the Mariners made national headlines, I had to align myself with the Northside Cubs or the South Side Sox.
I never lived in a city with two teams but I could see how "friendly rivalries" would be in existence. I had no idea how extreme these fans were. My first apartment was just north of Wrigleyville. So close that I could hear the din of the crowds from my back deck. I thought it was cool to be near such a legendary field and was fortunate enough to be invited by a classmate to a game. Apparently all the guys in the class were busy, but I was the first girl on the list. This game was oversold because it was the end of the legendary season of the homerun battle between Mark McGuire and Sammy Sosa. In fact, they were presenting Sammy with a car that day. That was an exciting moment, I think. I mean I couldn't see anything but a sea of Sosa jerseys so I was just going by sound. We eventually snagged some seats as the crowd emptied and I got to bear witness to my first Cubs loss.

It turns out the Cubs lost A LOT. I was no stranger to baseball loses, helllllooooo the Mariners, but to lose and lose year after year and get sold out crowds? Never in Seattle, never, never, never. I was thinking, though, this has to be more than fan loyalty to these "lovable losers" than the players themselves. I was beginning to think that it may have to do with the legendary field. Further it had to do with demographics. Wrigleyville and the surrounding neighborhoods are full of post-college frat boys and Trixie girls who start flocking to the field come Spring time to get wasted and score. This wasn't about baseball to a lot of attendees, it was an excuse to get fall down drunk and try to have sex. For me I thought the whole experience was crowded, smelly, annoying, expensive and tan.

It was abundantly clear that my Northside world was dominated by Cubs fans. Since I have a natural aversion to groups and a piteous heart I started getting a soft spot for the White Sox. Plus they were an American League team and would be playing the Mariners. My first game at the former Comisky was a totally different experience. There were no oppressive crowds, the food was phenomenally better in taste, portion and variety, the bathrooms were nicer, the people were normal and appeared to be there to watch some ball. Deeeeeelightful. I made my choice based on my American League bias, my comfort and enjoyment at former Comisky, and more importantly I felt the Sox deserved a fan base like the loser Cubs had.

I figured since I was a transplant I didn't have to be so militant about my fanhood. I still rooted for the Mariners and watched both the Cubs and the Sox. Actually, I couldn't get away from it as I had no cable and WGN exists. When the Cubs went to the playoffs in 2003 it was exciting. It was like catching a fever. I am one of the most easily influenced people I know,(You should have seen what happened to me at an Amway meeting.)so it was inevitable that I would be right there watching the games and rooting for the Cubs. Then they lost. Then the fans blamed this poor Bartman guy. Then I thought, oh SCREW YOU Cubs fans. Bunch of sore losers. This guy was harassed so bad he had to leave the state. In the next couple of years I smirked at their decline. Though I like Dusty Baker, he seems like a nice man.

In 2004 things started getting hot for the Sox. Ozzie Guillen's style, the stellar pitching, defense and hitting were making the Sox a force to be reckoned with. In 2005, they only got hotter and cuter. Their chemistry was unparalleled. When one player would fall, someone else would pick them up. Ozzie's philosophy of no finger pointing succeeded in creating team players without punk ass attituded. I'm looking at you Jeter. Oh, and Clemens you used to be a punk ass but now you're too old so you're just an ass.

Metaphysically speaking I think the universe was ready for a Sox win. It was clear that this team was there to play to win and not to play not to lose. That attitude was palpable. During the Cubs v. Marlins playoff series I had this feeling that the Cubs just won't win and I couldn't put my finger on it. It's the same thing I felt when I'd watch the Mariners and Skankees in post season play. I just knew that the Mariners weren't going to win. Houston fans knew damn well they weren't going to win. You could hear it at the last out of game 4. That collective, "Ohhhhhhhhhh", as if a toddler dropped his ice cream cone. Bless their bee loving hearts, Houston played some tough ball, but the Sox were tougher. For the first time in my life I had the feeling that these guys can't lose. They have talent and they respect it in one another. They are smart as hell and take advantage of every break that come their way. They have foul mouthed, pragmatic Ossie whose confidence and belief in his management style transcend to every member of the team. And once they came up with their theme song, Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'", they made sure to fly Steve Perry to all of the remaining games. To have a group experience like this, a collective of the right players, the right leaders, the right attitude and the right time is legendary.

I saw these Chicago legends downtown last Friday at a ticker tape parade. The crowds, the paper, the noise, the excitement, it was palpable and I'll admit, I teared up. I couldn't see well, but I managed to glimpse them all. When it was over I joined the sea of black and white up Madison Avenue back to work. It was bittersweet in that they won the World Series, but it was over so fast. Here's to a repeat in 2006. Historically speaking, you know, they're no Yankees, but ewwwwwww that's a good thing.