Working in the City (Part 1)

I spent most of last week in Chicago, where the boy took the Bar, working from "home" in the apartment his parents' vacation club owns. It's spectacular, and if I had a million dollars (or maybe two) I would live there in a second. It really, truly is city living at its best (or, should I say, richest). Here's what I wrote last week about it. (I was too busy working and staring out the window to actually post it then.)

I have the most spectacular view from my “office” windows right now. Straight ahead: The Lincoln Park Zoo across to Lake Michigan, everything coated in a layer of the pristine white snow that fell last night. Things haven’t taken on that mucky city slush yet. It’s just frosted white trees and roofs all the way to the icy lakefront. And if I lean forward in my chair or stand up to stretch, I catch glimpses Navy Pier jutting out into the lake (well, I could if it wasn’t so cloudy and snowy out right now!) and of the downtown skyline to my right. Out the window behind me: The city stretches out, in its icy windy early-morning glory.

OK, so maybe it’s not really working in the city—I'm not venturing out to any of the towering buildings I see on the skyline for meetings and power lunches. I’m still sitting in my residence of sorts, typing away on my laptop. But it’s a different setting, new scenery. I have leftover (authentic!) Chicago-style pizza from Giordano’s to eat for lunch. And if this damn wind stops blowing, I’m going to wander around the city on my lunch break (not promising, but we’ll see). That’s city living enough for me on a dreary day like today!


Here's a windy snowy morning view out the window (that's the Lincoln Park Zoo, then Lakeshore Drive and the lake beyond):


By late morning, the clouds clear away, the snow stops, but the wind continues to blow full-force. I can see the water dancing in the lake as it recedes from frothy white to gray to pale green, getting progressively darker until it touches the now-blue horizon. Now I can see Navy Pier and a few brave boats (you'll have to look hard in this picture—past the big buildings), which makes the skyline-watching that much more enjoyable:


It’s interesting to observe how the lake changes personalities as the day progresses. By mid-afternoon, only the patches of ice right by the shore are gray. Then the water assumes a consistent, deep blue hue until it reaches almost to the horizon, where it once again takes on its paler green shade. And still the wind blows. (Here's my best attempt at showing what I'm talking about. It doesn't do the depth of color the water has justice, but it will have to do!)


Then, of course, by afternoon it’s back to the murky, indistinct hue—that in so many ways characterizes the mood of the workers driving beside it on their evening commute—from shore to horizon.

I think I could sit here all day and stare out the window at the way the colors change—at the buildings across the street, as they emerge from their early-morning fog and the snow blows off all but their rooftops, of the lake beyond, of the people wandering by on the sidewalks below.

Fortunately, I’m a speedy typist, and when I’m writing I rarely even need to look at the screen or the keys, so I was able to be pretty darn productive today even though I did spend a good portion of my time gazing out the windows. Isn't that what you're supposed to do when you're working in the city?