I've been avoiding writing because I'm feeling funky. I have 126.86 hours in my vacation bank as we speak and 25 days till I head to Laguardia Airport. My skin is the color of cafe au lait and I so see myself as more of an island girl...I prefer my skin the color of semi-sweet. The blacker the berry the sweeter the juice has always been my motto.
The weather has been inconsistent and it's playing with my emotions. One day the sun is shining and I get to wear my new sunglasses. The very next day I have to remember to secure my scarf around my neck to fight off the cold winds. Can't anything in life be constant? Can't I at least be able to depend on the weather. Even as I'm writing that it doesn't make sense. The weather is the only change that is constant, unfortunately.
Friday I had dinner with the First Wives Club. They took the train from the 'burbs to celebrate Best Gal Pals birthday. In the mist of the rain we dined on southern italian and drank in each others stories. I was glad I came out, even as I made my way through the maze of people in Times Square looking for a pair of cheap comfortable shoes to relieve BGP's swollen pregnant feet. It wasn't quite a summer night out...but I could almost feel it. As the weather gets nicer, the plans for "let's get together" seem all the more tangible. I can't wait for afterwork drinks at the seaport followed by "we should get something to eat, you hungry?". It's what summer in New York is all about.