Shuka Shuka
Dear Astrid,
It is a dreary wet spring afternoon here. The sky is dark and rumbling with thunder; and it’s pouring, sideways sheets of cold rain.
Ah what I wouldn’t give for a shaker twice-loaded with a martini! Instead, we are bundled in thick sweaters, slippers on, sipping hot tea while futilely wishing warm Mediterranean thoughts…
The sun baking brick and sidewalks, geraniums lolling lazily in clay pots, summer dresses that willow when we walk; light totes, sunglasses, sandals, and dashing under a shady awning for spritzers… And a mezzo of everything, please!
If I keep at these dreams, they’re sure to come true one way or another.
Missing you!
xo, c.