1 Part Gypsy, 1 Part Hippie, 2 Parts Nuts, Splash of Vodka: Shake and Pour

Stories

I’m clearly losing my mind.

The sun is out today. This, in and of itself makes locals here in Seattle run around screaming, “MY EYES! MY EYES!” If you’re walking downtown about this time on the first day of sun in nearly four months, you can see businessmen in suits twitching on the ground from the sheer excitement of warmth.

I shit you not.

People suddenly “get sick” with all kinds of ailments. “CoughHikingCough” “KayakFlu” “EscapeToPark-itis” “GreenLake-Virus” And of course, the aforementioned twitching.

Today is that day. The day people drop like flies from their cubical and plug up the rivers and the Puget Sound and the trails.

Except me. Good ol’ Mrs. Flinger sees some sun and shrieks, “THAT IS IT! I WANT I WANT” and suddenly starts looking at real estate in Austin Texas because, why not?

I like Austin.

Houses are cheap! It still snows! There are trees! And Southern People! Austin is the “Seattle of Texas” and it’s the only place in Texas I’d live.  We have no job there, we have no way of moving there, no reason to, no family. But I got an itch because I saw the sun and remembered what growing up in South Houston was like where I played outside 90% of my days and dodged fire ants like missiles. Where Blue Bonnets litter the side of the Gulf Freeway and BlueBell is THE ONLY ice cream worth buying.

Austin is the perfect blend of conservative hippies, sunshine, and trees. But when I tell this to Mr. Flinger his head explodes and he begins twitching on the ground. “Can’t. Take. Gypsy.”

So we’ll go kayak before the rain returns on Wednesday and I’ll try not to yell “I told you so” when the next warm day is in July. (After the 4th. We’re always freezing on the 4th.) And I’ll hope Mr. Flinger doesn’t yell “I told you so” when I change my mind and want to move to Colorado in three weeks. Or Spokane. Or Canada. Or [insert land of impossible here].

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