This beach boy--and the fact that it's been snowing off an on for days in our little NC mountain town (just puffs of snow like soap flakes that melt on contact, but still)--is making me yearn for spring--no, summer. I want to be too hot, people. I want to seek out bodies of water like a sweaty hippo. (Do hippos sweat?) I want to wallow. And drink frosty, fruity drinks. And picnic. People--I want to picnic!
Instead, I'm preparing. I paid for my share of a Gulf Shores beach house where we'll meet Mark's sister's family and his cousin's family for a week in July. I joined an organic farm co-op that will provide our produce--and flowers!--starting in early spring. I've started a new (and hopefully sustainable) health regimen that will put a spring in my step before long. (Forgive me. I think the puns are back. Back?! you say? Shush! :-))
And there's still the pleasure of a little smudge in the fireplace. A cup of hot chai. A doggy sleeping on my chest while I snuggle under a blanket with my sweetie. Now first, right? Later... later.