Dear Nordstrom,
I see from the two catalogs and three letters you have sent to my home that your Anniversary Sale starts tomorrow. As someone who grew up in the Seattle area I have a special place in my heart for the Anniversary Sale. I still salivate looking through your sale catalog at all the beautiful clothes and accessories at such amazing prices. In fact, when I was in graduate school in Boston I would plan my trips back home around the timing of your sale just so I could shop it. But alas, I fear that some of the bloom has come off our relationship. You see Nordstrom, I live in the metro Washington DC area now. And while I love those beautiful things you put on sale I have no need for them for several months. At least three months, closer to four or five for the sweaters and coats. That's right Nordstrom, if I buy these things today I will be putting them in a closet until November, at which point they are no longer *new clothes* but have become *clothes that are taking up space in my closet for four months which I don't use*. This is an even bigger problem when it comes to my children. Have you ever tried to explain to an 8 year old girl that she can't wear the awesome outfit she got at your sale for her first day of 3rd grade because it is still 90 degrees outside? That explains the knee high black patent leather boots and black jeggings she was wearing in her first-day-of-2nd grade picture. It was 93 degrees that day, not counting the humidity. If you ask me she looked a bit warm. And even if we can get past that negotiation there is always the chance that many of the items will no longer fit my children because they have irresponsibly had a growth spurt between the time the clothes and/or shoes were purchased and when they can actually be worn. And even if they are the right size and the weather cooperates there is a good chance my children will no longer like them. Because they are fickle and if they can't even consistently like the same toys, music, video games, television shows or colors for more than ten days there is no way you can expect their fashion sense to remain static. Thankfully your return policy is rather generous, and I always have my receipt so there is no question whether I am attempting to return stolen goods. However I still feel sheepish and hang my head in shame when I have to cart back hundreds of dollars worth of goods in September and October because no one will wear them. And I feel truly sorry that this probably screws with the commission of the kind salesperson who worked really hard to help me purchase things for my kids. So I hope you will forgive me if I sit this one out. It's not you, it's me. But I should be honest and tell you I will still be stopping by for handbags and maybe some shoes that I have no occasion to wear. Because you can't totally abandon a tradition.
Showing posts with label weather. Show all posts
Showing posts with label weather. Show all posts
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Tis' the season
I am originally from Seattle, so imagine my surprise when we moved back east to Boston after college and discovered that the four seasons are not just in name only. That in other parts of the country there is actually a difference in the weather and temperature from spring to summer to fall to winter. In Seattle the spring is typically mid 50s and drizzling. Then there is an ever-so-slight up tick in the temperature for summer, but still drizzling. Followed by a slight down tick for fall (still drizzling) and a slightly less pronounced down tick in the winter months. Also with the drizzle.
When we moved to Boston it was July and hot. Not ridiculously hot, but certainly hotter than I was used to. I thought it was unbearably humid. It turned out I didn't know squat about humidity. In Boston you schlepped around thinking about a tall glass of iced tea and when you could get to the beach. And then one day fall came and it was glorious! The leaves changed, the temperatures became brisk and suddenly I felt like raking something or going apple picking, or doing one of the many fall activities I had only read about in books or seen on television growing up.
But alas, fall came and went too quickly and then it was winter. Only not the *put on your fleece* winter we had in Seattle. It seemed every week I was out buying yet another layer of insulation, convinced it was as cold as it could get. And then it would get colder. It was the first time I had heard a weather forecaster refer to the temperatures as *bitterly cold*. Wow, I thought, that can't be good, as my hair and eyelashes froze.
And then came the snow. The first snow of my first winter in Boston I was at work. As the giant flakes fell I started looking around nervously at my co-workers. Finally after it had reached three inches of accumulation in the parking lot I asked someone, *um, shouldn't we be going home since it is snowing so much*? She looked at me with disbelief, then outright scorn. Next she gave me a lecture about my mamby-pamby snow upbringing in Seattle. And then she gave me a nickname that stuck for the rest of the winter - snow baby.
All winter long it was bitterly cold and would snow. What I didn't realize was that winter in Boston lasts from around November through May. It snowed a lot that April and I cried but kept telling myself that in another month it would be May and I would be warm and could take off my coat. And then May came and it was still cold, just not bitterly. But eventually spring came the flowers and bloomed and life was good again. And so it went until we packed up and moved south to Washington, DC fourteen years ago.
Down here it is still cold in the winter, but a smaller percentage of the days are considered *bitterly*. There is snow, sometimes a lot, but not to the point where there are piles along the roadways and in parking lots that are taller than you and are a disgusting grayish black color and don't melt until June. Oh no, I quickly learned that DC is all about heat. And humidity. Especially humidity. I experienced another weather first when I saw a cactus as a symbol on the weather report. Unfortunately this cactus did not represent dry heat, like in Arizona. Instead it only represented the scorching hot aspect, but this was coupled with humidity that made you feel like you were encased in a heavy, wet wool blanket. And sometimes when the heat mixes with the humidity it can result in *air quality warnings* where children, elderly and people with respiratory problems should stay inside their air-conditioned homes where they can breathe the air.
Like the over six months of winter up in Boston, DC has over six months of summer. That is why we love fall. We talk about fall starting in July. We dream about fall, revere fall. And when it finally comes we practically weep with joy. And it lasts exactly two weeks.
So why do I live here? I make it sound so miserable, and it is. But the truth is I am a weather junkie. I have come to love extreme weather. If it is going to be hot I want it to be sweltering, like the surface of the sun. I want to be able to complain that if it doesn't cool off by tomorrow I simply can't go on living, using my best Scarlet O'Hara voice and clutching a mint julep. In the winter I want to have the cold take my breath away when I step outside and exclaim that I am going to pour my hot chocolate over my head in order to warm up completely. And I want rain - real rain, not the drip drip drip drip of a leaky faucet for six months straight. In DC the rain comes down in torrents, falling in heavy sheets. If you go outside with your mouth open you may drown.And it is done after a day. Sometimes after an hour.
My husband is like minded. He grew up in Alaska and gets nostalgic during the winter. This past winter he made my daughter walk to school (with him) even when the temperature was in the teens not including the wind chill. While other parents were driving their warm and toasty children to school my husband was regaling my ice cube of a daughter with stories of his childhood waiting in a snowbank for the bus. In the dark (because it's Alaska and the sun only comes out for about ten minutes in the winter months). And while you are standing there in your snow bank in the pitch black you also needed to be on the lookout for moose. So really, our kids have a cushy life.
So when people ask me how I can live here in this swamp where it is so miserably hot or so miserably cold or flooding or on high alert for tornadoes or hurricanes I just nod my weather-impaired frizzy haired head and smile with my face glistening with sweat (and not in a sexy, attractive way). Because I wouldn't want it any other way.
When we moved to Boston it was July and hot. Not ridiculously hot, but certainly hotter than I was used to. I thought it was unbearably humid. It turned out I didn't know squat about humidity. In Boston you schlepped around thinking about a tall glass of iced tea and when you could get to the beach. And then one day fall came and it was glorious! The leaves changed, the temperatures became brisk and suddenly I felt like raking something or going apple picking, or doing one of the many fall activities I had only read about in books or seen on television growing up.
But alas, fall came and went too quickly and then it was winter. Only not the *put on your fleece* winter we had in Seattle. It seemed every week I was out buying yet another layer of insulation, convinced it was as cold as it could get. And then it would get colder. It was the first time I had heard a weather forecaster refer to the temperatures as *bitterly cold*. Wow, I thought, that can't be good, as my hair and eyelashes froze.
And then came the snow. The first snow of my first winter in Boston I was at work. As the giant flakes fell I started looking around nervously at my co-workers. Finally after it had reached three inches of accumulation in the parking lot I asked someone, *um, shouldn't we be going home since it is snowing so much*? She looked at me with disbelief, then outright scorn. Next she gave me a lecture about my mamby-pamby snow upbringing in Seattle. And then she gave me a nickname that stuck for the rest of the winter - snow baby.
All winter long it was bitterly cold and would snow. What I didn't realize was that winter in Boston lasts from around November through May. It snowed a lot that April and I cried but kept telling myself that in another month it would be May and I would be warm and could take off my coat. And then May came and it was still cold, just not bitterly. But eventually spring came the flowers and bloomed and life was good again. And so it went until we packed up and moved south to Washington, DC fourteen years ago.
Down here it is still cold in the winter, but a smaller percentage of the days are considered *bitterly*. There is snow, sometimes a lot, but not to the point where there are piles along the roadways and in parking lots that are taller than you and are a disgusting grayish black color and don't melt until June. Oh no, I quickly learned that DC is all about heat. And humidity. Especially humidity. I experienced another weather first when I saw a cactus as a symbol on the weather report. Unfortunately this cactus did not represent dry heat, like in Arizona. Instead it only represented the scorching hot aspect, but this was coupled with humidity that made you feel like you were encased in a heavy, wet wool blanket. And sometimes when the heat mixes with the humidity it can result in *air quality warnings* where children, elderly and people with respiratory problems should stay inside their air-conditioned homes where they can breathe the air.
Like the over six months of winter up in Boston, DC has over six months of summer. That is why we love fall. We talk about fall starting in July. We dream about fall, revere fall. And when it finally comes we practically weep with joy. And it lasts exactly two weeks.
So why do I live here? I make it sound so miserable, and it is. But the truth is I am a weather junkie. I have come to love extreme weather. If it is going to be hot I want it to be sweltering, like the surface of the sun. I want to be able to complain that if it doesn't cool off by tomorrow I simply can't go on living, using my best Scarlet O'Hara voice and clutching a mint julep. In the winter I want to have the cold take my breath away when I step outside and exclaim that I am going to pour my hot chocolate over my head in order to warm up completely. And I want rain - real rain, not the drip drip drip drip of a leaky faucet for six months straight. In DC the rain comes down in torrents, falling in heavy sheets. If you go outside with your mouth open you may drown.And it is done after a day. Sometimes after an hour.
My husband is like minded. He grew up in Alaska and gets nostalgic during the winter. This past winter he made my daughter walk to school (with him) even when the temperature was in the teens not including the wind chill. While other parents were driving their warm and toasty children to school my husband was regaling my ice cube of a daughter with stories of his childhood waiting in a snowbank for the bus. In the dark (because it's Alaska and the sun only comes out for about ten minutes in the winter months). And while you are standing there in your snow bank in the pitch black you also needed to be on the lookout for moose. So really, our kids have a cushy life.
So when people ask me how I can live here in this swamp where it is so miserably hot or so miserably cold or flooding or on high alert for tornadoes or hurricanes I just nod my weather-impaired frizzy haired head and smile with my face glistening with sweat (and not in a sexy, attractive way). Because I wouldn't want it any other way.
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