Every year, round about now, we New Yorkers start a slow climb out of winter. We’re cautious (curse those late March blizzards), yet optimistic. We still bundle up, if only to be able to peel off layers by the hour. But glory hallelujah what a difference commuting wrapped in warm air can make. This is when I always go out of my way to walk on the sunny side of the street.
Every time the seasons change I feel like an entirely refreshed person with a extra kick in my step and howdy in my ‘do. You’d think since it happens 4x/year every year that I would get used to it. But I don’t. It still feels brand new. Every. Single. Time. As popular as California dreamin’ can be, I don’t think I could ever live there. What’s their benchmark? I prefer my perfection with a side of suffrage. Just to keep it real, yo.