It’s a perfect, warm (but not humid) California day today. It’s one of those days where I think living in a place that’s too crowded and too noisy and too expensive isn’t all that bad because I can take a walk to the post office on my lunch break to send my friend her belated wedding gift (sorry about the shoddy packing job, babe), then detour to the local garden center for some more Lemon Symphony Osteospermum hybrid daisies for my flower beds, and feel like I’ve gotten some fresh, life-giving air, without breaking so much of a sweat that I don’t want anyone to come too close to my cubicle when I’m done. Also, it makes me giggle that the flower has the word sperm in the name, and that puts a smile on my face, if a bit of an immature one.
And what’s the perfect song for a day like this? Jason Mraz doing “Summer Breeze”, live. Preferably the Chicago Theater version where he works in the line about sex toys. Even in the middle of winter I can listen to this song and feel my cheeks get a little rosier, but in weather like this, it’s like Apolo Ohno and a big sparkly dancing trophy – perfect together. A horrid analogy, but I’m hoping that if I use my power of positive thinking to picture him winning the trophy, it will help his chances. Isn’t that what The Secret teaches? Millions of Oprah fans can’t be wrong.
The jasmine’s in bloom,