Josh Rouse's El Turista. It's my pathway to the beach before I even get on the road. It gives warmth before I ever feel the sun touch my skin. I taste tequila under my tongue. Smooth, bossa nova-y, ocean-breezy, twinkly instrumentally, luscious, sweeping, did I mention smooth?
Watching like a hawk:
The ten day forecast, courtesy of the Trupoint Weather Transmitter at the Seaside Amphitheater, the spot nearest our cozy oceanside aerie in the Florida panhandle. Hold on, I'm comin.'
The rain I see dripping forlornly down the windows of my classroom greenhouse. This means removing aforementioned red shoes and making a mad barefoot dash to the truck. A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.