I’ll tell ‘ya…

It’s days like today – freezing cold, windy and a sore back – that I wonder why I’m not living down in around Boca Grande, Florida. Imagine lying on a wooden beach chaise (sensibly covered by an umbrella, sunscreen, a hat and sunglasses) with a notebook, a pen, a book, the newspaper and a nice glass of ice cold lemonade watching the waves and the shell hunters and the occasional boat passing by with people hunting fish. I’ll tell ‘ya one thing, just between you and me, if I wake up on Sunday morning and find that I hit the Powerball, the first thing I’m doing on Monday morning is getting on the phone with a realtor in Florida.

If wishes were horses, beggars would ride. . .