baby, it's cold outside...

at tazza d’oro in highland park today. krista and i are at a table at the front of the coffee shop, near the door. isn’t it funny how it seems that people bring the cold inside with them? like the cold is some sort of sticky, gooey thing that clings to you when you’re in it, and wants to go where you go, lingering until it eventually gets outnumbered, dissipating in the room temperature…

earlier, a cat was at the door. he was a really pretty grey and white longhaired cat. just sitting at the door, looking inside, wanting to get out of the clingy cold. the girls who work here seemed to know the cat, and a guy went over to the door and let him in. when the cat first came in, he walked over to me, because i was closest to the door, and i pet him for a little bit. he was cold – so cold! like how i imagine sandy’s gloves must have felt when she found them in her freezer. he had coldness all buried down in his fur, holding on for its life, curling itself around each hair, reluctant to let go.

paul and i were talking about ice fishing the other day. to a couple of southerners*, ice fishing sounds like the dumbest idea ever, yet i still find myself oddly fascinated by it. someday perhaps i’d like to try it out, but it might just be one of those things the idea of which is much more novel than the actual practice. because if you’re ice fishing, all you’re really doing is sitting. in the cold. and waiting. and nothing makes icy cold feel icy colder than sitting and waiting in it. remember -- the cold is an invasive menace. it’s intrusive and manipulative and evangelical, wanting nothing more than a chance to convert all in its path to subzero. it’s like a paratrooper, a jesuit, a missionary rebel. the cold is a crazy bastard.

…listening to iron and wine when i’m thinking about all that’s wrong with capital punishment puts me in a really weird state of mind.

*krista, in an attempt to keep me honest, has encouraged me to point out that i’m also one of those southerners who can’t wait for the winter to come every year so that i can wear sweaters. yes, i love the cold. yes, sometimes being cold is not fun. these aren’t necessarily inconsistent positions.