Decaf be Damned!

   "Day twenty four and I still don’t see an end to this bleak month.  I’ve been surviving off a strict regiment of fish sticks, crappy drive thru food, and of course, Pepperidge Farm cookies.  The only way I can seem to stay warm is by wearing the same old, “beating a dead horse,” Ugg boots every day.  I can no longer stand taking style pictures outside, due to the cold.  Instead, I’ve resorted to the shelter of the garage.  Here, I attempt to look chic among the piled up yard furniture and tomato cages.  I try to break up the monotony of this long month by alternating reading my books at Starbucks and the public library.  Of course, the last time I went to my regular coffee spot I was told the decaf machine was out of order.  This news darn near had me ordering my first caffeinated beverage in over twelve years.  I almost ordered a caffeinated beverage!  What has become of the woman I know myself to be?  I fear this bleak wasteland may be getting the best of me, if not surely my selection of footwear."

   The above paragraph would be an excerpt from this South Dakotan woman’s winter survival journal, (if she had one.)  During these long desolate months, this blogger finds it difficult to report on anything new or interesting.  Honestly people, its winter and I’ve hit a funk again.

   Proof of this statement happened the other day when I running an errand.  I had just left a store after getting my sunglasses tightened so they would stop sliding down my face.  Since I was downtown I had to walk a fair distance to my car which was parked at a meter a few blocks from the building I had just exited.  Now, being a person who has lived in larger cities in the past I'm not accustomed to always waiting for the crosswalk light to change before I start walking across a street.  Especially if the street is a one way, leaving me only one direction to turn my head in order to check for traffic.  On this particular afternoon there was a group of rather punk rock looking teenagers waiting on the opposite side of the road facing me.  They were also waiting for the cross walk light to change.  As stated before, I’ve lived in Mpls.  During that time I became familiar with a rather hurried pace.  Considering the street I was crossing only had one car approaching in the far lane I started to cross the road before the light had changed to, “Walk”.  I reasoned that the vehicle would be long far past by the time I actually set foot in the lane it was driving in. 

   At this point, I think it would be relevant to interject that I admit winter is not my best time of the year.  I believe strongly in the relevance of seasonal depression and while I myself, thankfully, do not feel smothered in sadness, I do get a little bit crabby…a tiny angry…a smidgen aggressive…sigh, OK…I can be a real bitch.  However, on this day I was feeling pretty good with my newly fixed sunglasses on my face.  I was pleased at how they complimented the outfit I had on and happy when a nice looking gentlemen walking by nodded his approval at me.  I thought, “Hey it’s winter.  I’ve been wearing the same boots for about six weeks, but I’ve still got it.”  Of course, this was all before I started crossing the street.

   As mentioned earlier, I was walking toward the punk kids on the other side of the road.  My pace was seriously slow, as I was attempting to let the car in the far lane pass with plenty of time. Now, what do you think happened?  I’ll tell you what.  The car stopped dead on the road with the driver inside looking at me and pointing expressively at the crosswalk light while shaking his head.  I SNAPPED.  I’m pretty sure a possession occurred on Phillips Avenue that day because as soon as I saw the guy in the vehicle motion to me like I was an idiot, I went demonic on his ass.  I finished walking up to his car window, which thank God for him was rolled up, and proceeded to scream…let’s just leave it at, "not so nice stuff,"…in his face.  All the while I was motioning with my arms in an exaggerated way to, "Keep on driving. What the he…ck was he stopping for?!”  I continued to ridicule his decision to stop and obvious lack of city driving skills at the top of my lungs only to hear the punk kids on the other side of the road gasping, pointing, and snickering at my outward display.  There was a lot of, “Oohhh!” and, “DAMN!” being shouted from them.  However, this didn’t really register with me at the time because I was too busy unloading, (possibly in Latin, remember I was possessed),  on the wide eyed, now terrified man sitting in his vehicle. Finally, the driver got his wits about him and slowly started to proceed forward to the intersection he could have long ago passed through.  I continued to walk to my vehicle now feeling calmer and remarkably peaceful.  Of course, when I walked by the punks they gave me a wide berth, but also a look of something like respect.  While I’m certainly not proud of my ridiculous actions of aggression, I can honestly say I felt a lot better after it.  Also, I’d like to note that sometimes it’s the rather polished looking thirty-something lady in desinger sunglasses and Ugg boots that one should look out for, not the teenagers with green hair.  Good thing Starbucks had decaf that day.

-r.  

  

Sweater:  Gift from Al  (Free People) 

Skirt:  Ann Taylor Loft

Boots:  Ugg

Purse:  J. Jill

Scarf:  Thrifted