And now, a word about the weather

Before coming out here, Crissy and I had heard it a million times. “Wait till you see how much easier the winters are on the east coast. They’re much milder than the Midwest. We’re so awesome, the Midwest sucks.”

We weren’t buying it. How much warmer could it possibly be? I personally have gotten stuck in a New York blizzard twice, on two separate occasions, two years in a row. Seems to me I’ve been here plenty of times when it’s been cold, and I’ve been annoyingly unprepared for it every time, because people keep telling me about these alleged mild winters.

So it’s with deep regret that I inform you, our Midwestern brethren, that it’s true. As of the date of this entry, this winter has been a piece of cake (jinx, meet Kevin. Kevin, meet jinx), with a difficulty level ranging from, “mild” to “this ain’t sh#*.”

So what the hell does mild mean, exactly? It’s not like new Yorkers are sipping daiquiris and toe tapping to Cheeseburger in Paradise in the middle of November. People aren’t exactly playing cornhole in their Jams and cooking bonfire weenies. Nobody’s playing a sweaty game of slow-motion volleyball wearing backwards, upside down visors.

Really, all it means is I didn’t have to break out the puffy coat until this past week. To me, a winter’s not a winter until you gotta break out the puffy coat. Or the humungous duck boots. Or the man mittens.

Winter's when those pansy little skull-caps imported from LA boutiques and post-production houses go into storage until May, and you break out the real winter hat. The one that’s all function, zero form, and makes your brain sweat if you wear it indoors. That’s winter.

And I won’t lie. I kinda miss it a little bit. This time of year, it’s nice to cozy up indoors and blast through an entire season of 30 Rock in a snug room lit by Christmas lights and candles.

Which is one of the many reasons it’ll be fun to get home next week. But something tells me that after five days of Chicago wind chill factors, we’ll be ready to head back to, and better appreciate, New York’s mild n’ toasty high-thirty temps.