St. Patrick's Day is coming, and I mention this because one of my most memorable St. Patrick's Days ever was spent in San Diego when I was 20 years old, and I got one of the worst sunburns I have ever had. But still, it was glorious. I had been in school in suburban Pennsylvania, spending my days squelching across the greens to class through ice and mud, wearing these godforsaken ugly things. I spent my Spring Break junior year in a bikini on the beach, and that was when the seeds of moving to Southern California were planted in my head.
Fast forward to today, Los Angeles, March 11. Today it is 51 degrees. Viva and I went out today in almost identical outfits: long-sleeve T-shirts, with hooded sweaters over them, with raincoats over that. Oh, and pants. We did wear pants. Did I mention that it's 51 degrees outside? Even at mid-day?
I have more to say, but Sweet William is sick and needs my attention. He is running a very high fever off and on, and combined with delightful swollen glands, this is pretty much making him miserable. I slept with Viva last night to avoid catching whatever he has, and thus I did not sleep well. Note that she is currently napping and I am not, and my co-parent-in-crime is almost completely useless at this time. This evening promises to be a blast!