And then there's me. I just want to eat my heavily buttered popcorn and Butterfingers while watching it all burn.
Preferably from a beach.
I complain about the weather here because it is 87 different seasons in one day, every day. Truth is, mornings like today, where the weather is perfect, make me the saddest. Mornings like this remind me of California.
Fortunately, in about twenty minutes we should have a monsoon or ungodly ball soup weather.
I turned down a chance to officiate a wedding in NYC. It's the week of my sister's wedding. I may try to kidnap a few black, brown, yellow, gay people while we're home for her wedding and bring them back to Mexico Beach.