So I hear it is so hot my crotch will be sweating like this plate of delicious biscuits and gravy when I get home Saturday night. I’m OK with that I guess, it turns out you really can get your fill of mild, pleasant, sunshine-filled days.

When your good long break from the routine feels like the routine, then you know vacation is almost over. I had the same experience once in Barcelona, when I was riding the train to work and bitching to myself about the monotonous grind of it all, living in Barcelona, Spain and riding the train to work. With a start of realization, I knew it was time to go. I was on a bus to Sarajevo a week later, and the week after that I was missing Spain and telling stories about riding the train to work. There you have it, some of us are just incontrovertibly obstinate and hard to please.

I have heard that a person’s capacity for enjoyment and happiness is pre-set, like a clock radio you just plug in and it knows what time it is (oh yes, they have them!).
I think I have to agree with that, because I know some folks who are simply
jazzed about the littlest thing like Check it out this splinter only went a little way under my fingernail, I am so lucky! while others of us tend to mutter 74 degrees? I wish it was 73 degrees!

So, in a couple of days I will be home, asking y’all to pass the gravy, or better yet, just pour a little down my crack for me.


4 Responses to

  1. Do tell someone this side of the pond… what exactly is biscuits and gravy?

    Better yet someone can treat me to someone when we see you guys next year 🙂

  2. Right on, F.L.! Down here in the Dirty South, we know our biscuits and gravy! Guaranteed to take years off of your life, and damned enjoyable!

  3. ahhhhh…biscuits and gravy… You don’t know what you’re missing Fat Lad! Speaking of southern delicacies/staples, I’m in Washington State at the moment preparing for a backpacking trip with the McCabe’s et al and there are no grits to be found ANYWHERE! I’ll probably have to go to some ‘spensive gourmet “market” and pay an exhorbitant price for the most basic of southern foods. Oh well, on Sunday I’ll be tromping through the Upper Cascades with 7 hunky guys. Wanna join us and make it 8?