My neighbor yelled across the street to me today, "Hey, it's like we've got somebody else's weather!" And I'm thinking, that's exactly what it's like. This is an amazing week here in Atlanta. No humidity, blinding sun, cool temps, green everywhere, and happy people. Happy people. Unusual for a town that dubs itself, "The city too busy to hate." If you live here, you don't think twice about that moniker. Unless you think twice. And you say, hey, I guess that's as good a reason as any not to hate. Just too damn busy.
But back to the weather. Usually, by the end of May, we are a bunch of hot, cursing, road raging, sweaty, pissed off displaced northerners, wondering why the hell we ever moved south. May is summer here, a lot late July back home. But this week, and even last, have been a sweet out-of-season dream for us all. Cool days, crisp nights. Sit out on the porch, light one up, and think, yes, this is why we're here.
Laughing, smiling, taking a break from the "too busy to hate" thing, it's like we're all on some vacation from hell. Which, in fact, we just may be.
So, what I want to know is this: Elaine, is this your doing? And if so, let me know what I have to do to make it stick. I'll dance, sweat, strip and bathe myself in the eternal springs of Blogaria. Whatever. Just don't let it stop.
