There are some folks who fall in love with New York City the first time they visit–they decide that whatever it requires, they will find some way to move there and live their best life/work in publishing. I’ve never felt that way about New York: every time I’ve visited, I’ve found it to be overwhelming, and expensive, and cold. Instead, I think I feel those feelings (or the closest I’m ever going to get to them) about Chicago–every single time I’ve visited, I’ve been enchanted by it.
It is also overwhelming, expensive, and cold, but in a way that apparently speaks to me. Perhaps it’s just my love of deep dish pizza.
So, when I wound up with a few days of vacation time that I needed to burn, I flew out to Chicago for a combination family visit/tour of the city. It was ridiculously, stupidly, photoshopped-this-onto-a-postcard delightful (if you don’t believe me, check the photo above), and that’s even with it snowing on the first day. Continue reading