I feel like my favorite rooster. Yikes!
Just ten days ago Chicagoans were celebrating the Cubs’ magical, improbable World Series win. Though a south sider by birth and therefore genetically destined to be a White Sox fan, my kids and husband won me over years ago. (And if you have ever been to a game at Wrigley, you have some idea why.)
And this was so much fun! A lovable, young-but-talented team falling behind in the series then winning it all with a game-clinching double play. It’s the stuff baseball dreams are made of! No wonder the city went wild, dyeing the Chicago River Cubbie blue and then millions (yes, millions with an “s”) lining the streets and filling Grant Park for a home-grown celebration. Whew!
Then, this week, stunning election results no one saw coming. Wow. Again. Quieter, this time.
It takes a while to change course.
I’ve been hiding out, binge-watching “The Crown.” It’s wonderful and I’m loving every minute of it: the Queen, who thought she would have far more time as a wife and mother before assuming the crown; the Prime Minister, who struggled mightily to retain his position; the former King, who relinquished the crown for the woman he loved, exacting personal and public prices for all the family for years to come.
I’m having a dinner party.
My husband is making his beef bourguignon (comfort food seems appropriate) and we’ve invited some equally stunned friends to join us for dinner. Hopefully, good food, good wine and good company will nudge us in the right direction.
Maybe next week will be simpler.