Bring It In or Back

It's below cold outside. The sun is beaming though. Bouncing from snow pile to snow pile. I slip my way towards my Toyota and mentally prepare for the morning sit-still-and-freeze-in-my-car thing.

My car starts, which is good. I have no reason to believe that it won't. I can probably still count the amount of times I have started this engine. But for some reason, I doubt it will rev up each time I feel this kind of cold. I don't trust this car. This car with it's cruise control, power locks and strawberry scent. It's the strawberry that makes me skeptical, I think. Doesn't seem trustworthy.

I promised myself, forever ago, that on cold days like this, I will wait through whichever song starts up on the radio. I figure it's a good couple of minutes for the engine to start the warming process. Having music as the time limit somehow makes the wait tolerable for me.

The starter kicks over and roars into Fatboy Slim. I'm suddenly wanting to break my own promise. For some reason the idea of changing the radio station didn't occur to me. Instead, I sit in my own irritation.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hvnHtO6daQM

This song is Milwaukee High School of the Arts. Specifically, this song is the choreographed Step routine I created for Ms. Jordan's aerobics class. I can still picture my knee high kicks and flailing punches. Sexy in my puffy, checked nylon shorts. In navy blue.

I try to shake the image and the song out of my head. 1998 would let me go that easy!

Jan. 1, 2010 - My clothes are all clean. Washed before making the return trip home to the Twin Cities. The cutest little shirts and skinniest little skinny jeans were all available for the picking. For some reason, I woke up in the morning, looked at mountain of clean in front of me and chose a sweater I bought in '98. A gray knit that hardly covers my navel. I haven't worn this sweater in a few years. I'm not even sure why it's made it through all of my textile purgings. Not to mention ... why the HELL would I want to start out my year dressed as 1998!

The last week of 2009 started me on this path, I'm sure. Friends from middle school. Friends from high school. Stories of the 90's. The decade was supposed to jump forward, and I'm pretty sure I took the short bus backwards this time. If the year is 1990 for me, that puts me in First Grade. Oh man... I better find a smaller shirt.

My brain is redirected to Fatboy Slim. After about the 30th "Right about now", I give up on the Funk Soul Brothers and put the car in gear. At least, I have the icy ruts in the road to focus my attention now.

Why the HELL didn't I turn the damn radio dial?!?




























"Hi" from 1990!