Eighty degrees in November. Welcome to Florida

I’m writing this in the break room at Walmart. My shift starts in about an hour. I had to get a ride with my roommate because I am still without a functional car. I am still waiting for the Volkswagen Fairy to bring me a brand new Tiguan. Metallic blue. She’s been really stingy lately. Oh well, maybe she worked a deal with Santa and on Christmas one will be parked under a huge red bow in front of my apartment. Ha! One can dream.

When my roomie and I got into her car we noticed that her car was reading the outside temperature as 81 degrees F. Ugh, I hate it. As I get older I tolerate cold more and heat less, which is backwards. People usually become less tolerant of cold as they age. Not me. Bring on the snow. I’m backwards on many things. As I age I get more liberal-and I was liberal to begin with. Maybe by the time I croak I will be a Communist. Ha!  I also gain rather than lose self confidence but, that’s an issue I’ve been working on my whole life.

In the sixties, seventies and eighties it was never this hot in Florida. We turned off our air conditioners in October and they stayed that way till March. My parents rejoiced in the extra cash. I keep telling people that if I have to endure another eighty degree February birthday one more time, I am outta here. Back to Oregon for me. I just looked online. It’s 11:30 am in Portland and 48 degrees. Ah, heaven.

I’d like to be sitting and writing this in one of Portland’s 800 coffee shops and drinking a steamy mocha and watching the famous drizzle.

Here’s a photo I took in the ’90’s in the Fall. This is NW 10th. The building with the semi-circular windows on the right side belong to the back side of Powell’s City of Books which, allegedly, is the world’s largest independently owned bookstore.


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