Last night I asked a question of the universe. It pertained to how I was feeling. I got my answer today….pneumonia. Alas, the universe has yet again thrown a roadblock on my journey! One pill down and my head is up (although the rest of me is still on the couch), so I decided tonight in leu of artwork I’ll just write. There are more people following my blog than I had ever imagined, and I appreciate the support more than you may know. I thought maybe tonight I would just tell a little tale about myself. I have a very good friend who laughs at me, it’s not mean, it’s just that she knows me well enough to know if an accident can happen and I’m in the area, it’s mine. Another dear friend who keeps telling me that I need to save it for “the book”.There are many, many of these stories, but because I am already getting tired (been up since 2 a.m. coughing) I will share only this one.
January in Chicago can be really, really cold. Lake Michigan has a lot to say about how miserable Chicagoan’s will be. Lake effect snow, and wind chill can be brutal. My first car was an AMC Hornet. It was hideous, sort of gold color, with two giant rust holes in the hood that would spin the slushy crap off winter streets onto my windshield, not to mention that sometimes when the car wouldn’t start I would pop the hood, and using a pen I would push something inside the engine, (no idea what) and the car would start. That last part was actually quite impressive, guys actually thought I knew something about cars…not so much. As far as the rust holes in the hood, I had to shove plastic bags in the openings to be able to see through the windshield on winter days. Very stylish. How old was I with this piece of crap car? 16? 17? 18? No, I was twenty-six,(I had to spell that one out) a mother with a full-time job. On that cold January morning I drove my daughter to school. It was on a major Chicago street, Western Ave., lots of traffic, lots of parents dropping off, not in those nice suburban school circular driveways, but curbside on a street with four lanes. (I couldn’t possibly make a fool out of myself on a nice quiet street with no one around, could I?) The Hornet had two big, very heavy doors. I walked around to the passenger side to take my daughter out of the back seat. Once Jessica had cleared the door safely, I slammed it with force, which was the only way to shut them. As the door slammed it grabbed part of my coat, the part with the pocket, the pocket that had my keys in it. I couldn’t take the coat off, it was too cold, and there was no spare key for this car. Here’s a creative assignment, picture a woman, who appears to be leaning on a car outside in the middle of winter. I think the temperature was somewhere between nine and fifteen that day. Fortunately my sister’s kids went to the same school. I sent Jessica in search of her aunt. When my sister arrived she found great amusement in my dilemma, this of course after a lifetime of living with me. Honestly, I would have killed for a coat hanger, and privacy! Eventually, between the two of us, and a little cooperation from my raggedy old Hornet, we managed to pull the coat and keys free.
Well, that took longer than I thought, and now I’m really tired and winded. Have a little laugh again tonight at my expense, I do it all the time myself.