Tybee Island is stuck between two different storms smashing against each other creating spectacular lighting shows, thunderous thunder and pouring a sea of rain on this already drenched clump of sand.
The island is as lush and green as I've ever seen it.
Normally Tybee's brown by now ... proving it embraces every color.
Normally in August no one has to mow grass unless you pay to water every day ... it's hot as Hell and so humid your clothes stick to your skin if you dance ... if you kiss your partner your mouth slides right off her lips ... and making love is akin to water aerobics.
But the Rapture must be approaching because the grass is green, the humidity's low, the clothes hang loose, kisses hit their mark and ... er ... um ... no water's involved in our aerobics.
Anyway, the two storms have called a truce for the moment and I'm sitting on the Beloved Back Deck under skies of purple majesty, listening to thunder roar and not liking it one damn bit.
August should be hot and dry and if you want to get wet ... take your baby to the ocean ... or into the sand dunes!
"At least it's not cold," I keep telling myself.
I HATE COLD!!!
I hate it with everything in me.
I cuss it, condemn it, regulate it to hottest parts of Hell and Georgia Power can go right along with it!
You can have the cool crisp days of Autumn, the colors of the leaves, bonfires and SNOW ... you can have all of the freaking snow allotted to me in life!
It is true I love baseball playoffs and college football (GO DAWGS!) immensely but it's hot when they start and I'm all for it staying that way.
Alas ... it's a miserable, cool, wet, stormy day on island and I sit here wishing we were back in the Bahamas.
What do you do?
Since it's not raining for the moment, I think if Sarah's up for a walk ... to the sand dunes ... she could pull me out of my Tropical Depression.
