No, naughty minds-- not THAT kind of blow-job. I'm talking about the sleeting, spitting, jaw-chattering, cheek-numbing, hands-buried-in-pockets kind of blow. In other words-- a typical Spring day in the city of broad overcoats.
I absolutely adore Chicago-- ask anyone. But even I was a bit disheartened when I looked out onto an accumulating pile of sleet on my windowsill.
"Here come the cancellations," I thought, eyeing my calendar with regret. Almost immediately the phone rang.
"Hi, this is L--- are we still on for this morning? I know it's a bit windy out, but I'll brave it to see you!"
Later: "Hi, Tabu- I just wanted to let you know that I'm on my way... I left early because of the storm, but I think I'l still be there on time."
Then: "Tabu, I'm on my way to your hotel. Is there anything I can bring you? I know you probably didn't want to go out today."
At the end of the day, lulled with chocolates, wine and the company of some of Chicago's most valiant gentlemen, I fell into the sweet and dreamless sleep of a child who knows she's home.
Thank you all, my dears. I cannot wait to visit you again.
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