A morning to mull over

I wasn't prepared for days when there is no specific story to tell. But I suppose there's always something happening if I step out my apartment door. There was no freaky teacher at yoga, but one thing I did today that was very unlike me was I went to yoga in my pajamas. I had woken up freezing and when I looked out my window, it looked gloomy as if stepping outside was going to make my face stiffen immediately from the cold. The thought made me ready to jump back into bed where the covers were still warm. How I resisted the urge I do not know.

But no, I didn't walk straight outside in my plaid pink and green pj pants and pink, ribbed tank-top. I actually slipped my yoga pants over my pj pants, put on a long-sleeve shirt and a sweater over my tank...and finished off the whole ensemble with a jacket. Lastly, I "bandaged" my neck with a green/brown, skinny scarf. I was ready to brace the cold; and whether I looked ridiculous...I didn't check or care to know. Why I put on so much clothing in the middle of September? I tell you that it felt cold and looked cold too. But after I stepped out my front door, the sun was shining (like a big joke on me), and while it wasn't blistering hot, the layering was a little insane. Did I go back inside to strip down? No. I actually walked the 13 blocks to the yoga school dressed as described above. After only 3 blocks, I was talking to myself (in my head) that I would never do this again. But at least if I get sick I can't blame it on not wearing enough clothing or not keeping warm because I was warm...that's for sure.

But I wasn't the only person in New York City who put on a little too much clothing today. As I was passing 69th St. on 3rd Ave. I saw a mother dragging what appeared to be her son across the crosswalk. She seemed to have a tight grip on her son's right arm because as he tried to sink down to the blacktop, ready to roll and kick, each time he tried, he bounced back up like a bed spring...half-dangling in the air and then dropping back to the ground only to bounce back up from the strength of his mom's short, determined, upward yanks. "I don't want to go! I don't! I don't, I don't! No! Nooooo!" he kept screaming, tears gushing down his face. His eyes and cheeks were red, puffy and I guess you can say he was in a state of hysteria. It looked as if he'd been having a tantrum for a while now. It was these 3 quick seconds of crossing paths with them on the street that I did not have the chance to think about how quickly I was warming up. Instead I started to imagine what I'd do if my child had done the same thing. Yelling and crying at the top of his lungs in the middle of the street, making me handle him like a wild frog on a tether in public. I mean it was such a spectacle that cab drivers even popped their heads out the windows to see what the commotion was.

But I didn't have enough time to think about what I'd do because after I stepped on to the sidewalk, a woman on neon-green roller blades and a long brown fur coat was racing towards me, trying to catch up to the rest of the blinking walk signal. She was no doubt Asian. And had wildly-permed, frizzy, short, black hair and appeared to be in her 60's. Wrinkled, white skin that I was almost sure was covered in make-up because it was a ghostly white. Her lips were painted a very bright red and her eyebrows were drawn a little haphazardly in a dark brown. She had black eyeliner as thick as an inch and a half (imagine Christina Aguilera). I don't know if this description is precise because I didn't want to openly gawk at her for the remaining moments she was visible to me in the front. But even a few subtle glances imprinted her image in my mind so clearly.

Wait, was I crazy and imagining things? Was the heat from all my clothing changing my vision? No. Because she was there when I had turned around to double-check that she was, in fact, real and not a figment of my imagination. She had zoomed through that crosswalk, barely making it in time to the other side before cars started honking like a bad orchestra. She MUST have been much warmer than I was. I was merely walking. I had no fur on either.

I'm slightly comforted to know that while I may be crazy sometimes, there are always people crazier than I.

Lessons of the day: Sometimes you should just go back inside and change your clothes. Parents put up with a lot from their kids throughout their lives; cut parents some slack some times. You know you were that kid once. Don't roller blade in the city with a fur coat on. Don't draw your own eyebrows.