Mother Nature is in menopause.

I wish I could take credit for that line, as it is surely genius, but alas, I cannot.  The credit goes to my Philly transplant friend, Anne.  How cruel Chicago must seem to a gal that moved to Chicago in January, and now is still stuck in stubborn winter’s last grip.  Sigh.

I don’t know about you, but I am sick of this spring-in-holding-pattern-feeling-more-like-November-than-April weather we’re having.  Imma vent here, rail at the Universe, because surely the Universe is amongst my three readers.  Seriously, what does a gal have to do around here to get some rays, feel the warm light of sunshine on her face, revel in the tulips standing so mighty and proud?  Are you with me?

Okay.  I’m a little cranky.  Too early for menopause for me, so I’ll blame this weather we’re enduring. This morning the sun shines, but it’s 34 degrees, people.  Are we supposed to feel grateful for these few hours of sun, knowing that the chill remains and the clouds and rain are on standby?  April showers can suck it.   


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