I was really looking forward to another Caribbean Christmas (click), but it seems, at the last minute, that it isn't in the cards this year.
For a day or two, I was excited about staying in Brooklyn. I listened to Petula Clark sing "Baby It's Cold Outside" at least 20 times. I walked around, admiring Christmas lights.
My favorite, a fox in the snow.
I baked peppermint and peanut butter kisses for a party (while listening to Petula Clark.)
I donned a festive and shimmering gold sweater for said parties.
And tromped cheerily through the snow to arrive.
And then, I thought, "Baby, it is cold outside," and briefly considered stowing away on a container ship (click).
I found myself feeling more, "Fox in the Snow" than Petula Clark, and then I thought...don't I have a half a ticket to L.A. leftover from this spring? As it turns out, I do. So I bought the other half, and now this fox is getting out of the snow, headed to San Clemente for a few days in the waves.
When I was a little kid and people asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I took the question quite literally and replied, "a bird." I liked the idea of flying over the ocean to secluded rocky beaches.
As for this blog, like Jack Kerouac said, in his introduction to Lonesome Traveler: "Its scope and purpose is simply poetry, or, natural description."
My nickname when I was small was Jaybird--not because of my globe-trotting ambitions, but because I squawked a lot. So maybe this is just a form of online squawking.