The Rainy Season

It promises to ruin every weekend we have for the foreseeable future. Rubbish weather. So as you can imagine, it rained this weekend. I had a very agreeable weekend planned: spend Tuesday at the pool, go plant shopping for Clara Camille's cage, get some Sari fabric for the Bollywood party next weekend, maybe do a nice outdoors dinner (with plenty of bug spray handy), just general chillaxing (yeah I said it. what.) and wandering around Macau.

Instead we got rain.

The girls and I did sushi Monday night instead of going out, which was the best idea we could have had. Tuesday, the general Macau public woke to rain, rain, and more rain. So we saw the new X-Men movie which was pleasantly surprising and also provided a couple possibilities for Halloween costumes. Let's just say one involves white go-go boots and the other black go-go boots. Whichever I find first dictates which one I pick. Then we wandered around Macau in the pouring rain. I bought some new flowers for the apartment - my new favorite, fresh flowers. Some gorgeous lilies and some what smells like gardenias and some huge bright orange daisies. Loves them. Then when we got tired of being wet, we went to the Venetian for power hour - happy hour with 45 Mop martinis and free steak sandwiches. Had a martini and then shopped for a bit, before calling it quits and retiring back here for a real dinner and some movies. Wednesday was quiet - movies and Teriyaki stir fry. I made some awesome cookies and then all of the sudden the weekend was over. Rubbish.

I spend my days playing Angry Birds and often wonder what it must be like to have a real grown up job. Probably not as good as mine.

The really expensive silk bedspread I bought in Beijing at the silk factory is on my bed now (looks SUPER nice with my fresh flowers) and I once again think to myself, "how are you ever going to readjust to life back home?"

No clue.

I'm reminded of a Zoolander quote "Who am I?" to which is reflection replies "I don't know." Kinda how I feel. BUT. Life here is ok for now. Don't know where I'm going, but I sure know where I been. That's a little Whitesnake for those of you at home playing along.

I was thinking about this today. I have travelled so far away from home, and I am surrounded by people and places and things who have no clue who I am and what I am about. I am sometimes amazed that I have managed to stay so true to who I am. But you know something? I credit my youth with that. It made me never want to be anything or anyone other than Southern. Why would you? The food, the language, the sayings, the people, the climate, the attitude, the food, the beer, the landscape, the food, the people, the beer, crawfish, the flowers, seafood, the food, the beer, the people, etc, et al...

Whenever I meet people here and they have something negative to say about Americans, they always clarify it with crediting me as an exception.

I always reply, "It's ok. I'm Southern. We're different."

And I mean that with all my heart. Why would you possibly want to be anything else?