Not again? Running on ice trying to get to the office on time. Ever have those days? I’m always just on time it seems as if my watch speeds up in the morning keeping up with the RPM in my car as I’m racing down the expressway. I will just revise Sammy Hagar’s song to the tune of ‘I can’t drive 65, as opposed to the snail’s pace of 55.
I used to hate the dawn. Used to curse it with all types of obscenities; some words yet to be defined in the Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary for the intellectually-mentally insane. The WTF Edition for those of us pondering why we chose graduate school over law school or a job outside our passion and interest over backpacking for a year in Europe. The latter I did however now most of my experience, that I can recall is a collection of one night stands, drunken evenings in the infamous Wine Cellar or ‘Kneipe,’ and partying and late night grubbing in the homes of strangers.
Fast forward to North Carolina, another leap of friggin who knows what; a mid-life crisis trying to find a Southern Belle to call home sweet home. I love a place where every gal calls you baby and serve you the best damn Sweet Tea around.
When I lived in the South instead of two cats welcoming me out of bed I had Canadian Geese honking me out of my slumber; nature’s wake up call. Living by a pond had it’s beauty and majesty with the early fog providing a calm and stillness like no other place. How I long for that place over the concrete jungle of Los Angeles.
Now I’m just a Starbucks whore, needing my fix like a junkie craves his dope. Ready to shoot up with this season’s fav holiday ‘red cups.’ Can’t decide between the ‘Christmas (Nookie) Cookie or the Gingerbread Man/Woman Latte. Hell I’ll have both, can’t get enough of that luscious, sweet Holiday spice. I just prefer mine more naughty than nice.
To be continued
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