Really. I just couldn't resist. For the record, I've uninstalled (is that the word?) Facebook from my phone and have pledged to only visit there once or twice a day. I've also sworn off the news, so unless Bob Dylan or someone like him dies, I don't want to hear about it. I went on a long walk with a friend this morning for the first time in -- well, let's just say that it's been too long, and as my friend says, I've got a situation going that's not getting any better. On the way to her house, I walked past a single heart monitor thingy lying in the grass and took it as a sort of omen that I need to get on the stick and exercise more regularly before the situation gets out of hand. Yesterday's lament and its residual anxiety hangover disappeared somewhere along the route we took and truly went up in a puff of salt, crushed pepperoncini and citrus zest that covered the thin slices of avocado that lay on the toasted baguette that I ate at a restaurant along our walking route. Back at my house and outside my bedroom, despite the constant whine of big box mega-mansion construction and a steady stream of male Spanish talk and music, the lemon and orange trees are blooming and literally assailing me with their sweetness. I wish I could box it up and send it to someone in Maine (Christy?) or Boston (Single Dad? Claire?) or New York (Sandra?).
Reader, what's happening with you?
