bookmark_borderMy secret calling: weather reporter

I studied broadcast journalism in school, so I can write a short snappy sentence. But I never aspired to be on air. My colleagues tell me that I may have missed my calling: weather reporter.

Not a meteorologist proper, of course — that involves actual atmospheric science and a whole bunch of data analysis. I stopped understanding science of any kind when we got to the semipermeable membrane chapter in high school biology — is that like a half-open door or it is more like a saloon door?

It’s not like I enjoy weather. I hate being too hot — or too cold — I am happiest in the chilly delight of mid-autumn.

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Enjoying beautiful Hawaii.
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There are ways to make unbearable heat more palatable…
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Enjoying lovely Ottawa.
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Getting ready for some outdoor winter fun in Rosseau.
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My happy place — sweater weather in New York. There’s a narrow window of the weather I enjoy. The rest of the year — about 9 months on average — I am (more obsessed than usual about) monitoring the precise weather conditions we can expect that hour, day or week. I check several sources daily and compare forecasts. (Environment Canada, the weather app on my phone, the Weather Network on Twitter and several others!)
  • I need to know the Humidex — will I be weeping all day? Should I stay inside in the A/C?
  • I need to know the Windchill — will it be a scarf and hat day? Do I need to wear my balaclava?
  • Will it rain? — I need to know whether it’s an umbrella day, a rain hat day (yes I have a rain hat), or a raincoat and rain shoes (have those, too) day.
  • Will it snow? — can I wear regular boots or do I need to get out the heavy insulated ones?

So yeah, I am very informed about current and pending weather conditions.

Tomorrow we’re expecting a high of 9°C with a mix of sun and clouds and there’s a 30 per cent change of rain. Pretty much a perfect day!

bookmark_borderTwenty-year-old me would be aghast

Oh, just look at me. Not yet 20 and in my first year of journalism school.

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Can’t find me? It was almost 30 years ago — I looked pretty serious in those days.
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There I am!

Twenty-year-old me dreamed of being a journalist, reporting from far-off lands, the wind whipping through my tousled hair as I did my stand up from the current international hotspot. Yeah, I wanted to be Christiane Amanpour. The fact is current-aged me couldn’t bear an international hotspot — I get stressed in a crowded nightspot. So things worked out for the best. Did I mention I now work in the deadly serious world of PR? Twenty-year-old me would be aghast, but I love PR. I just wouldn’t have believed it then…