bookmark_borderPollyanna in a pickle

Despite getting a “Christine has a good vocabulary” note in virtually every elementary school report card, I never really understood what a “pollyanna” was, I always assumed it meant a “goody two-shoes”.

But it means — not that you, my three readers don’t know — a person who only sees the positive in every situation and absolutely refuses to acknowledge very real and negative consequences.

Or put simply, an irritating optimist. Imagine a person who’s house has just burned down to the ground but still has “their health”.

Well, my health is fine but if my house went up in flames I would not be thinking about my outstanding cardiovascular fitness. I’d be cursing the damn electrician who messed up my wiring. I probably would even use a word or two that would raise (singed) eyebrows.

If it is possible, I am a cheerful pessimist. I don’t think everything is going to be okay. I know full well that bad things can and do happen all the time. I could lose my job, get a horrible disease or just chop off the tip of my finger chopping onions. None of that’s cool but it’s all possible.

Yet I get up in every morning looking forward to my walk to work.

But I don’t ever jaywalk. I could get hit by a car or — more likely given my route — a bicycle running a stop sign going the wrong way on a one-way street. And rest assured, I shake my little fist at all of them with righteous indignation; an attitude I am more familiar with.

bookmark_borderMy kinda town

Midwesterners are said to be open, friendly, and straightforward.

Well, last weekend I was in Chicago and I ended up having a nice conversation about the city with two very friendly real estate agents.

This took place over brunch on an outdoor patio in the Gold Coast area. I only knew it was called that because they told me — I thought we were in the North Loop. I learned about the various neigbourhoods in the city and the current state of the housing market. (Turns out pretty similar to Toronto’s except the condos are much cooler.)

And I can’t tell you how many times people jumped in to provide directions on the subway. My travel companion has a very good sense of direction but I do not and I imagine I looked confused trying to figure out what station I needed get off at to switch from the Red to the Blue lines. (Jackson, now I know.)

Chicago — a city I visited for the first time 20 years ago and again a few years ago — is a wonderful city. Full of beautiful buildings but also full of some really fine people.

People say it’s called the “Second City” because it used to be the second most populous city in the United States after New York (now it’s Los Angeles). But someone there told me it’s called that because it was reborn after the great fire — nothing to do with that other city at all. I think it actually has something to with Gilda Radner — but I think we all can be right.

My kinda town.