Three weeks ago tonight

I got back from Florida on Sunday afternoon. I should say, we got back from Florida... Graci joined me during the second week of my three week stay.

I was going to write some long, rambling post about vacation, and moving plans (the living room looks like we're trying to construct a topographical map of Colorado with cardboard boxes), and my Memorial Day.

I spent seven hours in student loan consolidation and repayment hell today, though. So...no long, rambling post. Short and sweet instead.

It was about 6:30 in the evening. I was sitting in the backyard, drinking a Blue Moon. I'd just spent a few hours walking on the beach. I planned to spend the next few reading Midnight's Children and admiring my budding tan.

The backyards in the neighborhood are surrounded by vine covered walls. On the other side of the wall, the neighbor man was grilling and singing along with Frank Sinatra. The neighbor man, George, is an old Italian New Yorker, and he can carry a tune. He has always been one of my favorite things about vacation in Florida.

I laid my head back on the chaise, watched the palm fronds rustle over my head, licked the sea salt left on my lips by the breeze, and listened to George sing...

I've got you under my skin
I've got you deep in the heart of me
So deep in my heart that you're really a part of me
I've got you under my skin