The Hottest Year

Remember my free associations?  Probably not, 'cause I haven't written like that in a long time.  Yesterday, however, upon hearing that 2012 is slated to be the hottest year on record (That's 118 years!), I felt inspired.  So here you go; here are my free associations to heat:

"The heat was enough to drive a man mad."  That's how the story began, anyway.  I remember thinking that was true -- that heat could drive a man mad.  It could certainly drive me mad.  But could it drive me to murder?  It did for the man in the story.

When I was a little girl, my favorite dress was a pale pink wool number that looked good against my tan skin.  I loved to wear that dress, even in the middle of summer.  One warm and lazy Sunday afternoon, I walked out to the backyard and sat on the swing.  Apparently, I fell asleep because what must've been at least an hour later, I woke up, drenched in sweat.  I'm sure I've experienced higher temperatures since that day, but it still stands out to me as perhaps the hottest I have ever felt.

But the coldest?  The day I felt the coldest was the day my sister Lexia was married.  We walked from the Manhattan Temple to Bethesda Terrace in Central Park.  I was proud of myself for picking such an elegant spot to photograph the newly-married couple.  (I had only walked inside a small portion of the park once!)  It was the second day of January and maybe the coldest day that Winter.  It was windy, too, and so cold that no one stayed for pictures; they went straight to Marquette for brunch.  In the end, it was just Lauren and me trying to snap pictures with our frozen fingers.  The pictures still turned out alright, though; people posted compliments on Facebook.

I wonder if it could ever be cold enough to drive a man mad.

Thing I'm thankful for: a soft and cozy bed