Saturday Afternoon Rambling

Happy Saturday. Make the most of it. This just in from the remote Views weather station in Andersonville. Our correspondent in Andersonville reports that it's 55 degrees at the Volvo. He also reports a burning desire to get out the deck chairs. I conversely have begun to wonder why there is no al fresco dining in February in Chicago. While it is true that in September or October 55 degrees seems a wee bit chilly for sitting outside and sipping wine and partaking of hors d'oeuvres, in February it seems positively balmy and might be just what the doctor ordered. The Reverend R.D. reports that the contributions are rolling in, so don't be the last one on your block to contribute to the South Beach Mission Fund of the Church of There Ain't No God But There's Sure As Hell Morality. (See yesterday's post, "Everyone Has to Believe in Something. I Believe I'll Have Another.")

Ordinarily Saturdays in winter are reserved for running errands and doing basic household chores. Today is so nice outside that I find myself looking for excuses to do something outdoors. Screw the laundry. Screw sweeping and Swiffering the floors. Forget about vacuuming rugs and the sofa. I need to walk down to Treasure Island to pick up four or five items, while sauntering slowly down the Inner Drive. To those of you not from Chicago, The Inner Drive refers to Inner Lake Shore Drive, as opposed to the Outer Drive, which has no sidewalk and is more like a controlled access freeway. My own personal inner drive is permanently set on saunter, or at least Babs seems to think so.

Even the self-possessed and driven to finish her book by deadline Babs, is feeling the pressure this afternoon to go outside, to relish the sunny warmth and get a little Vitamin D. It is Vitamin D that you get from hanging out in the sun, isn't it? This is not to be confused with melanoma, which I hear you also get from hanging out in the sun. Oddly enough I was reading a piece that I stumbled across online a couple of days ago and I discovered that in addition to increased incidence of flatulence, spider veins are one of those markers of aging. It seems that spider veins have a variety of causes. Apparently your personal genetics and inherited traits can lead to them, but....Insert trumpet blare here...excess exposure to the sun can be a contributor as well. Break out the SPF 64 and put on your long sleeves and hats when you venture to the beach for some warm sun, or...you can get rid of them by laser treatments. These, however, are expensive and, rumor has it, painful. Live with it people, or make scads of money, get laser treatments, a tummy and tushy tuck, some liposuction, a facelift, a boob job (unless you're a guy, and if it trips your trigger guys, you can go ahead with the boob job too.), and to top it off some Botox. Got that kind of cash? So why aren't you driving that Ferrari you know you lust for? Think a Ferrari is gauche? Give it to me. You can live through me vicariously.

I'm not quite certain what the point of this aimless ramble was originally, but I do know that I intend to keep it short today. I have serious business to tend to on this sunny afternoon, and it involves a leisurely stroll and lunch somewhere besides my 14th floor perch overlooking a rapidly melting lake. "Hey Babs! Are you ready for lunch yet? I'm starving."