It's November...and I think it's a week or so before Thanksgiving. I know it's the last Thursday of the month or some such time. It's usually a gray day that we, as a family, gather to stuff ourselves into a near comatose food nirvana and then fall asleep to the glow of the TV with meaningless football on...maybe not meaningless to some folks, but by then I'm to groggy to care. By 7:00 in the evening it's too hard to even lift a remote control. After the whole gastronomic ordeal we've usually got enough leftovers to take care of lunches for the next two weeks or so...
It's cold at the bus stop again and I've started dreaming of south pacific islands once more. I know that this is frivolous and we won't be going back to the Philippines anytime soon. Heck, we'll be lucky to make it to Duluth by next year. But lately I sit all bundled up in my bus and dream about stepping off the plane and feeling that tropical blast of heat. My mind meanders to a land of "Manana"-note..I don't know how to put the little tilde thing on top of the "n" to make it Man Yana. I want to saunter slowly in my shorts and flip flops...I just want to feel sand in my toes...I want to relax...and just have life come to me in slow trickles...aaaahhhh take me away.
Nope...Ain't gonna happen anytime soon... I should just get over it.
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