Swamp Thing


After a weekend in Sunny San Diego, mimi can’t begin to say how happy she is to be back in her Central Florida swamp. The first time I ever flew west, I spent much of the time with my forehead pressed to the window, watching the landscape change from brilliant Southern green to hard-baked desert brown. Florida and California may have palm trees and beaches in common, but that’s where the similarity ends.

May I just say that arid California weather coupled with two days of hotel meeting rooms and hours trapped in an airplane have wreaked absolute havoc on my sinuses? I now understand how Southern belles maintain their lovely skin–they aren’t having to slather themselves with moisturizer that evaporates into nothingness seconds afterward. See, Southern women get plenty of moisture every time they step outside. We basically live in a giant terrarium!

Emerging from baggage claim at the Orlando International Airport after my trip, my skin started sucking up the water like it had been outlawed. I felt like a walking tree frog–minus the sucker pads and green skin. I’m happy to endure Florida’s August weather (temps in the 90s, humidity in the 90s) if it means I don’t have to dry out and crack.

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