WARNING: West Coaster complaining about how hard winter is ahead. All Chicagoans with strong feelings about such sissies, proceed with caution.

My two year anniversary as a born again-Chicagoan is just around the corner, which makes this just my second “real” winter as an adult. Historically savvy readers will note that my anniversary follows after the two year anniversary of the 2011 Chicago blizzard, affectionately known as the original Snowpocalypse.

I remember watching the news coverage, hoping my flight out the following week for an interview wasn’t going to be affected, when my dad called. The conversation with my father, a recovering Chicagoan-turned-loyal-Californian himself, went a little like this:

Dad: Big storm in Chicago…*

Me: Yeah, I’m watching it on CNN now. Looks pretty wild.

Dad: Your flight out there for that interview will probably be cancelled now.

Me [worries for a split second, but realizes that's impractical]: Nah…it’s still over a week away. I went to New York for New Year’s a few days after its crazy snowstorm, and my flight wasn’t cancelled then. I’m sure this will sort itself out before I have to leave.

Dad [obviously not listening]: Are you sure you’re watching the news?

Me: Yes.

Dad: WHY would you want to move out there still if you’re watching this?!

Good question, right? Yeah, I was stumped too. I’m sure I replied with some mumbo-jumbo about my boyfriend being over there, Las Vegas not being the right fit for me, and better opportunities in the big city. All of that was true, but I was still CRAZY nervous about braving the elements for longer than just an extended weekend.

Californians think they love snow. They bitch about how “cold” their 60-degree winters are, but then plan regular snowboarding weekends in the mountains. Those who go East for college come back and wax poetic about missing the change in seasons, as they grill burgers outdoors for their Superbowl parties.

So confusing. I was never one of these Californians. I respected Mother Nature and her winter wrath. When I lived in Champaign for graduate school, I didn’t stick around during winter break to make snow angels. I flew south(west) on the first available flight following post-exam celebrations and didn’t return until the last possible moment before classes resumed.

So yeah, despite the last two winters being ridiculously mild, they still bring me down. All the heavy coats and extra layers. The sniffling and sore throats. The inability to run outside regularly. Sure, nothing but silly first world problems, but as I watch the snow fall like rain outside of my window (or maybe mixed with rain; hard to tell), I can’t help but long for warmer temperatures and longer days. Let’s hope they return soon.

*Unlike his chatty offspring, my father is a man of very few words. I love and hate this about him in equal parts. Regardless, best Dad ever.