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she· verb
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02.21.04 Do you Like Piña Coladas? I do not miss February in Chicago. Or for that matter, February in New England. Not. One. Bit.
After a week or more of cloudy skies and chilly temperatures (50! Brr!), we are finally treated to the kind of day people move to Florida for. Never mind that we moved here for a job (that was lost a year later) and that I hated it for a long time and there's really not a tremendous amount of cultural stimulation or even a decent Greek or Indian restaurant, it's days like this that put me into Plant Mode. I want to take root and bloom during a month that for me, traditionally was punctuated by perpetually cold fingers and toes, bulky and unflattering wool outerwear, hat head, a runny nose and a month-long case of bronchitis that hurt my chest and left me sounding like a cross between Brenda Vaccarro (Fight pain with Anacin, and win!) and Captain Janeway (The almighty Prime Directive. Take my advice. It's less of a headache if you just ignore it.). Okay, the throaty sexy voice was a fun bonus, but not worth it in the long run. Hula used to call me the sickly runt of the litter, however, I haven't really been sick here yet. I had a cold last Christmas and got a little sore throatish over the holidays of this year, but that was it. Now? Now I am hanging out in the back yard with the dogs, drinking a Piña Colada in February, watching the sun set through trees that never really lost their green. I've got a bunch of back entries I hope to post soon, but I've gotta run. The daylight is almost gone and I'm ready for a refill.
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