Something happened on my birthday in July. This year I threw myself a party. You know you can do that don’t you? Don’t wait for someone to throw you one…do it yourself and be fab!
It was a magical midsummer night’s eve. An adult version of a kids’ party: a long table studded with flowers in tiny vases, flickering votives, sequins tossed about, streamers winding in amongst the flowers and candles, games with prizes and party favors. Gourmet pizza and fine Italian wine. A spell was cast. [Read more…]
I tend to staycation in August because I like to travel off season when prices drop and kiddies are in school. (Bucket list trip coming up in September!) However, as I click through Instagram, enjoying the photos of people enjoying their glam vacations, I do feel the occasional stab of envy.
Tropica is like France in August: the locals disappear, mostly to their beach homes. The streets of Meriland are left to tourists, wandering blindly in the inhospitable, suffocating heat.
On Tuesday it will be three weeks since I had my hip replacement surgery. How to give you an update without sounding all boring about medical blah blah, when there is so much more in life to think about.
And that’s the point. Get on with the health and recovery but put your attention on the delicious stuff of life that awaits.
This is luxury: Swimming in the Gulf and not seeing another person as far as the eye can see.
If April is the cruelest month, then August is the lostest month. And it’s a good time to find yourself.
Staycating is the ultimate vacation destination in August. The world is on vacation: crowds, higher prices, delays. True, there is a sense of joining in the fun, and many art and music festivals are held during this high season. But…
I’m usually never at a loss for words…but yes, my friends, I have succumbed to the inertia that is the essence of the word: summer.
What is summer like in a place where it feels like summer all year round? Even in Tropica there are subtle seasons. School’s out just like everywhere and life slows down even more. The weather is, if you can believe it, hotter and stickier. Meriland empties out like Paris in August, with everyone going to their beach houses on the Gulf.
As many of you know, I live in Tropica where it’s slow, hot and green. This past spring, I undertook the task of having my house painted. I had been putting it off for years and it was time to face the music. As is local custom, I hired one painter who methodically worked his way through the house, inside and out. I was prisoner of my house for the six weeks it took, rising early in the morning to let him in, driving to buy more paint and supplies, letting him in and out, waiting until he finished at six. It was relentless and mind dulling.