Rebellion

I put on Jimmy Buffet.

I ate ice cream.

I imagined the hottest stickiest most mosquito crazed lazy hazy day at the Bolivar Penninsula, the type that would make one pine for even the slightest cough of a breeze. I thought of hearing the crickets and the frogs and all the undefined critters that make up the back ground noise of baywaters and the gulf when there's no wind. I could see the cows flicking their tails lazily, barely lifting their heads to chew and smell the ozone saturated with salty sand flavors of the beach.

I watched the sun slink below the skyline turning all the bay grasses black against the brightness as it disappeared, somehow ignoring the road and constant traffic inbetween. I willed myself to visualize the stars as they slowly appeared in the ever deepening sky and allowed my brain to summon the constant dull roar of nighttime waves crashing on themselves. The moon seems bigger here, as it makes the foam of the waves glow...

"We've shoveled through 1/2 of the driveway. Can we have hot chocolate?"
"I need help unzipping my coat!" "I fell in the snow and some of it got in my shoes." "I can't feel my fingers."

I will return to the dreamscape of Sherry later. Maybe this time, I'll try a bit of fishing.