Mary Lou Retton I am Not

Picture this:

Crowded Michigan Avenue bus. Shopping bags lay at every person's feet. Hats, gloves, scarves all making people sweat. More people get on. Crowd inches to the back. Bust driver shouts. Shuffling of the bags. People stamping their boots to rid them of the clumped, mushy snow. More people get on.

I am standing, with my gloves off (to avoid aforementioned sweating) and am gripping the pole that is just above my head, running horizontally all the way to the back of the bus. Metal, slimy, sticky, shiny. Lovely.

As the crowd surges, and the bus lurches, one must tighten her grip.

I was practically swinging from the bar. Would've been if God hadn't graced me with extra long Go-Go-Gadget arms.

By the time I got home, I had those little white half moon blisters on my palms.

Team USA Gymnastics is CLEARLY not in my future.

One Reason to Like Winter

Last night on the way home, I witnessed first-hand one reason to be thankful for winter here in Chicago.

On the bus, there was a family of 5. Four kids, all under what I would guess to be the age of 6. (Can you say handful?!?)

One of the littler ones, about 3 years old, was out of mom's line of sight. Side note: she had on an iPod and wasn't really paying much attention...

The aforementioned 3-year old started LICKING the metal pole. You know, the hang-on-while-the-bus-careens-around-corners-pole.

Made me thankful for winter.

At least then, when I'm on the bus and hanging on to the pole, I'm wearing gloves.