I used to be a tahitian princess.

It’s true.
It is my considered opinion that I was once a tahitian goddess who mouthed off once too often, and as a consequence I was reborn as a Canadian.  Now, I love being Canadian:  universal health care, originators of peace-keeping and hockey, etc–but I hate our climate.  I envy all Americans who can move to a tropical paradise, like Hawaii, and still be in their own country.  Or , if air travel isn’t your bag, just jump in your car, drive due south, and find tropical weather.  I live in the southernmost part of Canada, so I’ve used up what few measly options available to a Canadian to find warmer climes.

I have good friends who are snowbirds–the term used to describe Canadians who fly to Florida for the winter season.  My sister is also a snowbird.  I think I’d like something more permanent, although escaping winter sounds good too.  Three months of summer–most of it in suffocating humidity–just ain’t cuttin’ it.  I want palm trees, blinding white sand, a grass skirt around my hips and corn braids in my hair (just kidding on the hair).


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