Okay, so this is what has happened in the last month: when my brother Doug was here to visit, he almost stepped on a ray while we were walking along the beach; Amy and I saw a car run over a squirrel; we discovered these little oval-shaped crabs that hang out just under the sand and when the water goes out, they stick up their little feelers to collect food; we ran across a very dead (and very bloated) blowfish on the sand.
We're trying to buy a house. If everything works right, I'll post pictures.
I've been working long hours. Very very long hours.
Amy made a poster.
I'll tell you one thing for sure. There is not one iota of landscape to speak of in South Florida. You probably know that already, but I'm reaching a point where I KNOW it in the marrow of my bones. Even Grannie, who is a huge proponent of Florida, came home from a visit to her old New England stomping grounds and said, "You know, it's very flat here. You think to yourself, 'where are all the trees?' And then you realize that it's just flat. The trees are there, but you just can't see them."
Three things I've discovered about myself since we moved here:
1) I am biased in favor of the West Coast.
2) I like amplified guitars and microphones.
3) I'm designed to love the city, but I *need* the wilderness.