We had a few beers and some kick-ass crab cakes and the best fried green tomatoes at The Great Southern Cafe.
I could only dream of being half as good of a writer as would be required to write admirably about that stretch of Unknown Coast along Highway 30-A. When they have a Most Beautiful Places on Earth contest, south Walton County could confidently submit its application. Seriously. Whenever I drive through those pristine perfectly planned communities my mind periodically explodes through the dome of my head at how PRETTY everything is. Damn it...I am a man and I'm forced to admit that something is indisputably pretty. But it is. It is not only pretty but it's beautiful and amazing and it's where you wish you could live.
I think back on yesterday's drive along the Gulf and I think of sunshine and blinding white sand and my wife's gleaming eyes. We were on our Valentine's Day Eve holiday, a DAYCATION. Yeah, daycation. We drove down the coast on a daycation celebrating Valentine's Day Eve. A holiday featuring love and romance is one we should all feel good about. Don't hate. Don't let the mass marketing ruin it for you. It's about love. Valentine's Day is about Love. I don't care about the Catholic origins, the pagan origins, the origins on picture disks from our ancient alien overlords. Valentine's Day is about love and I was out on a sunny afternoon with eyes watering in the brightness and a sniffle from not-quite-spring breezes and all that's running through my head is love, love, love, and maybe some other stuff, too, but I couldn't stop feeling lucky and blessed. I have the best wife and I love my life.
Speaking of life. Other than weeping over the beauty of the landscape and the beauty of my wife, I've been studying this stuff:
Looks like a good time, doesn't it? Blows my mind on a regular basis. The circuitry driving the blinking LEDs on your Bluray player kicks my ass. Don't even get me started on the stuff that actually reads and translates those Bluray discs. Hooray for electronics!
No comments:
Post a Comment