I Can’t Stand To See You This Way…

My body doesn’t know what it wants to do. Of course it doesn’t help that the weather in Florida is manic these days. “Yeah, I know I’m supposed to be in the 80s and sunny right now, but I don’t feel like it, dude. Go screw.”¹

Last week, I could finally open up my windows and let some fresh air in. This week, a massive cold front rolling in from the west said, “We’ll just see about that.” When I first moved down here from the great Northeast, there was nothing El Niño could throw at me that I wouldn’t laugh at. Having blood as thick as corn syrup might have had something to do with it. “Ha HA! weather in the 50s is nothing! I come from Maine! When the thermometer hits 50, we break out the Hawaiian Shorts! You call this a front? Bitch, you don’t know what ‘front’ means! Bring it on, chump!” Then about 10 years later, when your diet has to change to accommodate for a more tropical climate (less chowdah, more bisque), you’re curled up in a fetal position in your bed, bundled up from head to toe with a space heater on wishing somebody would break into your house and shoot you in the face just to take the pressure off your temples from a migraine that just won’t quit…and its in the 60s.

Nevertheless, I forge ahead undaunted….
          TO DREEEEEAM THE IMPOSSIBLE DREEEEEAM WALKIN DOWN THE ROAD ALL DAY DOODAHDOODAH!!!!

So, my plan was to describe how I was feeling miserable all morning because the Tylenol wasn’t kicking in yet, and how I turned on Pandora and the first song up was Elvis Costello’s Allison and how I felt infinitely better after channeling my younger days and belting it out to an empty house….crowd still went crazy, though. Was going to into a fit of nostalgia on what the song means to me…

…but it is not this day.

All that stuff that I blogged about earlier? About writing the new fiction with the cats and such? Scratch that. Shelve that and go previous. Why? The ideas I had before were okay. They are better as separate subjects in their separate corners. They are stronger on their own, put together and they lose their meaning. Also, my youngest daughter is a genius; an untapped well of ideas that I have barely scratched the surface of. Earlier this year, she uttered something in the backseat that I will one day turn into a children’s book. Tonight at dinner, she shared something that on the surface sounded adorable, but filtered through my obsessive mind, it is a world that I would like to paint. And besides, what she came up with is, for lack of a better word, is simple; it was clean, it was easy to follow, and if handled correctly, could be the best thing I’ve ever written…next to this.

I’ve got some work to do. Mostly on this, maybe a little of something else, but in the meantime, let’s all wake the neighbors, shall we?…

¹Yes, I realize I used a Boston vernacular on a southern storm system…deal with it…

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