I will not complain about the heat. I will not complain about the heat. It’s not so much the heat, it’s the …. “Yeah yeah, Deborah. It’s the humidity. We get it.” I’ll tell you what else it is. It’s not having $25K for central air. It’s the “I’m caught in an 1875 watt hair dryer set to High & Hot, and I can’t get out” kind of heat. It’s the, “Who’s around to catch me wiping the sweat from in between my boobs before it runs down my cleavage and dive bombs into my navel?”
We’ve only just defrosted from the feet of snow and ice that imprisoned us in our homes and made driving anywhere else next to impossible. The winter boots are still standing next to the back door refusing to admit that it is time to retire for the season. Where was spring? She was here for a brief moment. The flowers blossomed instantaneously and disappeared behind summer’s green leaves as quickly as they appeared. I barely noticed. It rained biblically this spring until it stopped and then it was summer. Just like that. Mosquito bites on the inside of my wrist and my ankles already.
Iced tea. Pedicures. Gazpacho. Drinking & dining on our porch. Cleavage. Other ladies’ cleavages, mind you. Mostly I love summer. I love getting my tan on. I have few vices left. It’s the inner princess in me as well as the undeniable slimming effect a good tan has on my otherwise doughy body. I love the annual getaways to Vermont and Northern Michigan.
What Vermontians do for fun
And I love my birthday which falls around now-ish. Yes I do. I don’t know what we’re doing yet to celebrate-on the 11th in case you’d like to run to the shops in anticipation. Gabriella and I always plan the other’s birthday activities. I know not every couple operates that way. Is it a girl-on-girl thing? Is it a Gemini-Sagittarius thing? Dunno. Alls I know is that we like to celebrate, and we don’t want to have to wait for the decade birthdays to do so. I do know that I will not be able to see my friends Laura Booker and Dina Pearlman perform at Potty Mouths in Maplewood on Saturday. I said to Gabriella, I said, “Gabriella. I want to go see our hilarious friends performing comedically on Saturday.” And do you know what she says to me? She says, “No.” That’s it. Just “No.” “But it’s my birthday,” I says, “and that’s what I want to do.” “No,” she says. She’s a stubborn little thing, my Gabriella. It’s that Sicilian peasant stock. “I’ve already made plans,” she says in conclusion. There is nothing I can say.
I hope all you locals are able to attend while I’m somewhere else doing something else on my birthday. And I wish you all a fantastic my-birthday on the 11th wherever you are doing whatever you do. Everyone should be happy. I’m thoughtful that way. You’re welcome.