running in slingbacks

The universe is trying to tell me something. Only problem is, I can't quite figure out what. We speak a different language, the universe and I, since I'm human, and the universe, um, is kind of infinite and eternal and all. You see, Saturday I had planned to meet a good friend at the temple. I checked the weather: 44 degrees, sunny and a little windy. No rain, no snow. Perfect. I wear my cute tweedy brown skirt that Paul bought me with a cream colored sweater and tan fishnets and my brown kitten-heel slingbacks. I am feeling quite dapper. I don coat and scarf, and step outside.

Into a snowstorm.

Gigantic fluffy and very wet snowflakes are fluttering down, and I think this looks quite pretty, but then the wind starts, and I change my mind. The snow is evil, and it is out to get me. My fishnet clad legs are feeling quite chilled, and my hair is soaked, and snowflakes are attaching themselves to my eyelashes, and I know this sounded like a lot of fun in the Sound of Music, but when you're wearing mascara, well, not so much fun. I consider turning back, but then I rally and inwardly shout things like "Stand your ground!!!", and "Push forward!! You're almost there!!" I make it to the subway station, and discreetly try to preen. Preening discreetly is kind of hard, in case you were wondering.

I get off the subway at 59th, and prepare myself to navigate another blizzard. I step outside.

Into bright sunshine.

No trace of snow at all!! At all! It is a lovely wintry day, and I look like I took a shower with my clothes on. I make it to the temple, all the while reminding myself that the Lord looks on the heart, and not on outward appearance, and really, REALLY hoping that's true, because I am looking not a little bedraggled.

We have a very nice time at the temple, and I sit next to a cute little old lady with lavender hair, and I think, that's nice, that there are still old ladies with lavender hair. Also I encounter a man who sounds just like the Impressive Clergyman from The Princess Bride.

Upon leaving, the temperature has dropped considerably, and the wind has come out to play. The wind and I, well, let's just say we're not exactly friendly. My friend and I cross the street, and a particularly large gust of wind blows some hair into my very sticky lip gloss. I hate that.

"AAAAUUGH!!! HAIR IN THE LIP GLOSS!!!"

I fish the hair out. All better.

"Thanks so much, I had such a great time, and- OH, NO!!! IT GOT ME AGAIN!!! LOTS OF HAIR IN THE LIP GLOSS!!! AAAAUUGHH!!! IHATETHEWIND IHATETHEWIND!!"

Seeing my obvious discomfort, my friend shouts "Run! Run!! Run!!!"

After a quick hug goodbye, I am off like a shot, doing my best to navigate Columbus Avenue in my kitten heel slingbacks, which it must be said can only be worn comfortably for about three hours, and once this time has ended, they become wicked sharp toe pincers. They eat my toes. I am not a graceful runner, and the kitten heels are not helping. Plus, my toes are being devoured. I am running/limping down the street while trying to protect my lip gloss from further invasion. This takes some concentration, so naturally I am less than pleased with the people who decide to stop right in the middle of the street and make me want to get MADMADMAD, but then I remind myself (through clenched teeth) that they're all God's children, and hurry on.

As I wait on the platform for the train to come, I realize someone near me is talking. That someone is a homeless/drunk man, and he is feeling a little frustrated that the train is taking so long to come.

"Why is it taking so long? Do you know when the train is coming? Do you know when the train is coming?"

He doesn't appear to be speaking to anyone in particular. Suddenly, I am intently studying the gum splotches on the concrete.

"There are NO express trains coming EVER, EVER again. It's because people don't like Germans. Yeah, or chocolate."

Hmmmm.

I look over at him. He is holding a paper airplane, fashioned from one of the posters with subway information. He looks fondly at his creation.

"This is an excellent airplane. I'm quite brilliant, you know, at this, making paper airplanes. See, look!" He launches the airplane, which does in fact fly quite nicely.

I ride the train home, entertained by a little boy who, high on life and perhaps candy, is tirelessly circling one of the subway poles while singing "IT'S THE BEST DAY EEE-VER!!". He alternates this with a rousing chorus of the ABC song, and The Wheels on the Bus. His dad chimes in on that one. The lady sitting next to me is quite amused, and inquires:

"Did he have cupcakes?"

"No. I took him to see Spongebob Squarepants."

Ahhhh.

The universe is trying to tell me something.