Chicago

Is my blood not thick enough? I mean, I cannot help but wonder strange thoughts like this when I am standing at 5:40 a.m. waiting for the train. Today's high is 36 degrees. That will be the highest it will be all day. And all week.

Right around the beginning of February, when I am walking down Monroe, and my eyes are frozen open, and the capilaries in my face are freezing and exploding - I remember why I liked owning a car.

Midsummer, when there are street festivals and hotdog vendors and Navy Peir is in full swing, I always think to myself, "WHO NEEDS A CAR! LOOK AT ALL THIS EXCITEMENT!"

Today, I remembered why I loved driving, which does not bode well for the rest of winter. Like I said, it's usually February before I am this sick of freezing while waiting on public transportation.

Plus gas is cheaper now than when I gave up my car! I MEAN COME ON.

Either way, when I am freezing my ass off, I think back to childhood memories in footie pajamas (oh what I wouldn't give for footie pajamas now!) Usually because I was warm then, so very, very warm.

This morning, I thought about my little sister, Julie. Julie liked to suck her thumb and twist her hair while she slept.

Usually I would be awakened in the night by the sound of her crib banging around. It sounded like she was tied to a chair and she was desperately trying to hop the chair over to the other side of the room ala a Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoon, only replace the chair with a hardwood crib. And replace Bullwinkle with a redheaded toddler.

Then, seeing that she couldn't will the crib to the other side of the room, where I was sleeping, she would stand up and yell, "Sisssssssy! I'm stuuuuuuuuuuuuck!" and shake the crib with her free hand.

How was she stuck, you ask?

Good question. She would twist her hair until her hand got stuck in her hair, and she couldn't get it out.

Then, she would continue to call me until I finally got up, got some scissors, cut her free, and unwrapped all the hair off of around her fingers so they could resume not being purple.

She would then happily lay back down and go back to sleep. BUT I WOULD BE AWAKE. Very rarely would I be able to fall back asleep afterwards.

Ironically, I would take the time to find the scissors, unwrap her hands, and handle the situation, but wouldn't take the time to properly throw away the hair I had cut off. So, when my mother would clean under my sister's crib, there would be a veritable tumbleweed of hair under there, usually the size of a basketball, which used to puzzle and freak out my mother to no end.

And all I could think while I was standing out in the cold, waiting on yet another train this morning was, "Shit. I should have knitted that hairtumbleweed into a proper pair of gloves."

Which pretty much shows that my brain is officially frozen and not working properly.

UPDATE: HOLY CRAP IT'S DECEMBER!!! Why did no one tell me?! I need to change my header!!!