Until last week I was in denial that the weather was really, truly changing.

I don’t like being cold. Yes, I like bundling up and being cozy, but cold is not my thing. When you live in a city, you cannot help but meet with the elements in full force, and I know soon I’ll be facing pools of slush on stopped-up street corners, shlepping my tiny dog through sopping snow four times a day, and dealing with the wind tunnels that take over some of the avenues, melting faces and freezing fingers. Yes, New York is gorgeous in the autumn with the falling leaves, and nothing fills my heart like the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade prep on Wednesday or accidentally finding myself near Rockefellar late at night after the tourists are sleeping off their days. I love New York during the holidays. But I’m still not ready to give up on flip-flops and jacket-less tromping.

And yet…

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