Waiting for the fall

It was 81 degrees on Sunday. Two weeks ago it got up to 91 degrees, beating a weather record made in the 1930s.

Al Gore, Mr. Global Warming, Mr. Nobel prize, you are onto something. This is Michigan. It’s supposed to be chilly. Most Michiganders (yes, I call us “ganders” not “ganians”; this is a long, useless battle here in the Mitten State) revel in this somewhat unusual weather. I do not.

At the risk of sounding like my mother, summer belongs in summer. I do not want to wear shorts and flip flops and tank tops in October. I want to cover my now-pale skin in layers of fleece. I want to wrap colorful scarves around my neck, zip up my knee-high, high-heeled boots and forget about pedicures and leg shaving for a few months. Is that too much to ask?

On to other things: Oh the irony: One year after declaring my newspaper career road kill, I get a tempting offer to return to a level I had not previously been able to achieve. I wrestled and wrangled with the feelings and the logic of it all. But in the end I decided I left for a good reason and that reason still stands. I have built a life, for better or worse, around my family. To toss it all aside to take on a job that would probably pay well, offer me a new level of respect and experience, well, it may be tempting but only on a superficial level. The reasons why I left, for good, are valid. I have a plan taking shape, one that will allow me to live and work anywhere. This follows our long-term course to leave this godforsaken, rust-belt state for higher altitudes.

Oh the agony: The Mr. Half of this union has been traveling on business off and on for two weeks. This is going to be a big adjustment for all of us. On top of that, Girl from the East has been sick, just diagnosed with croup; Girl from the West has a sinus infection. Mom Zombie is about ready to curl into the fetal position and suck her thumb. My challenge right now is to maintain sanity and health. Without doing anything illegal.

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