I have a love/hate relationship with Florida in the summer.  I tend to think of it how women think of childbirth – you forget how bad it is after it’s over until the next time…but by then it’s too late.  It’s too late to move.  It’s too late to purchase an entire room made out of ice.  Too late to put in that swimming pool we can’t afford. 

 I HATE the stifiling, sweltering, oppressive, crushing heat.  I HATE the bugs that come marching through unseen cracks in doors and windows.  I HATE that there are so many great things to do outside but it’s just too hot to enjoy them.  I don’t use the word hate too often.  My mom always told me it was a terrible word and it stuck with me through the years.  But I think since I’m not talking about a person here I’m warranted in using it. 

 I LOVE how delicious the sprinkler feels on parched shoulders.  I LOVE that the sun has almost started to rise when I wake up and I don’t have to drive to work in the dark.  I LOVE the new splash pad our city has installed and how cheap it is for the season – Abi  lurves this, too  (I think she may be growing gills).  I LOVE sitting on the front porch after dinner with a cool drink and watching the lizards.


 But really, I LOVE that it’s time for the Tour de France and the San Fermin Festival.  I look forward to this all year and especiallythis year since Lance Armstrong is back in the game after a several year absence.  When we go back to Spain, it will be during the early part of July.  It’s on my life’s list to watch the Running of the Bulls  in Pamplona and to see those giant heads in the parade. Not too keen on the bull fights that occur at the end of the run, but the people of Spain well on their way to banning it across the country. And from there it’s just a short trip to France to watch a few stages of the Tour.   

 Today’s stage rides through Barcelona – a city Steve and I spent a few days in on our honeymoon.  What a romantic city.  I remember our hotel vividly – it was Steve’s birthday when we checked in (after taking an overnight train from Paris).  His dad had  sent an email  written in Spanish to the front desk of the hotel and Steve had a birthday wish waiting for him.  Steve’s Dad does translations for a medical company and is fluent in several languages. The hotel wallpaper matched the same toille pattern as the bedspread.  Painful.  We spent hours and hours just walking up and down the Ramblas taking it all in.  Sigh.  I ramble, myself.



 So watch the Tour or follow it on line.  Three weeks of beautiful scenery and cut-throat competition.  What a wonderful juxtaposition!


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