Spring. Is there really any need for another season? In my rarely humble opinion, Winter is just an excuse for two things: 1) Christmas and 2) enjoying the first breath of Spring that much more. And here, Spring happens to coincide precisely with the equinox. Come March 21, the weather changes from 20 and icy to 65 and sunshine sunshine everywhere. And just as suddenly, I feel as ripe and blushing as a perfect dewy tulip.
Yes, that, and a little randy. In fact, catch me post March 2-0, and I think you'll find me in love with half the world.
Even the "slender" (that's my nice word for "a bit skinny") and somehow unexpectedly young, hip, male shopkeeper at the birdfeed store took on an appealing quality today. (Why a young, hip, male would want to work at a birdfeed store serving what seemed a primarily female clientele only just hit me.) And before "mmmm...." could finish crossing my mind, I was back in the car (birdfeed in tow) with one eye on an airbrushed John Mayer gracing the cover of my "Room for Squares" CD -- wow, was he ever appealing at the ripe ol' age of 22, even wearing what appeared to be a caramel colored lip gloss. Later, replays of English professional soccer matches were more about English professional soccer mates in all their sinewy splendor - lipgloss free I should add. What is it about soccer player legs anyway? Go Arsenal!
When I admitted both my state of mind and my first schoolgirl crushes on a pop star and a professional athlete (believe me when I say I'm not the type to fawn over the famed - innate egalitarianism I suppose) , not to mention a skinny shopkeeper (there's that egalitarianism again), my self-described not-jealous husband promptly sent me less than flattering Grammies pics of poor John. But I find myself unabashed. I remain as game as the bunnies.
And after all, birds do it. Bees do it. Even educated fleas do it. So let's already, shall we?
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