Hon, we’re not in Massachusetts
anymore:
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There’s a remarkable availability
of wine and beer – now I can stop by CVS
for face cream, Neosporin, and Merlot.
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With day after day of 75 degrees,
it’s tricky remembering what month we’re in, but we can always tell it’s Sunday
by the number of stores with their doors locked up tight.
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I’m finding empty shelves that
should have been filled with boxes of my shade of hair color (L'Oreal's Excellence Golden Blonde). Apparently, store
inventories are challenged in this land of perpetually blond women.
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Instead of the sweet elixir from
our well at home, I’m buying bottled water and making heavy use of our Brita
water pitcher. How can a state so inundated with water have such bad tasting H2O?
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The preponderance of little white
dogs – under patio tables at restaurants, trotting on leashes at Home Depot and
Home Goods, riding in bike baskets, and pushed in dog strollers down city sidewalks.
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On the plus side, there’s no end
of dining opportunities:
