My dad DOES swear a lot. It made me a better person, promise.

So I jumped the gun a bit. It might still be warm out. And I might not have worn a coat to work for the last two days. I also might stop talking about it or I’ll jinx it and then Dubliners will chase my ass out of town. I have to say, though, when the wind hits your bare legs while you’re standing in the shade it feels rather chilly.

Lesson: Wear pants. Or don’t shave your legs.

My clothes for the season are also doing a change. I have whipped out a skirt I bought two years ago for my honeymoon. Miraculously it fits because I am a devoted diet-y who can fit into all of 2006’s fashions. 2005, here I come. I’m wearing a short sleeved linen top because I think I’m in Miami. All I’m missing are the flip flops and since I somehow only have ONE PAIR that do not match this outfit, I have to wear closed toed shoes, reluctantly. I need to learn how to get appropriate shoes for the appropriate season, even if I don’t agree with how the season is turning out.

It reminds me of the time in college that I insisted on wearing my Birkenstock sandals to class in March. In four inches snow. I had to sit on my feet for 45 minutes when I got back to my dorm room so they could thaw out and I called my dad crying because of the pain. I also called him the first time I slept through a lecture. I didn’t adapt to college very well.

Lesson (as told by my father, both occasions): Don’t be so fucking stupid next time.

Lastly, my eating habits are changing with the weather. I like alcohol more when it’s sunny out, probably because when I drink I get hot and at least when it’s spring I’m wearing less clothing. Friends come around more when I’m drinking, not surprisingly. Just this past weekend we had friends over for some Sam Adams and Wii play and a lovely, fresh, vegetarian dinner. This weekend I’m having a sleepover where martinis and margaritas are on the menu.

Lesson: Drink more; you'll make friends that way.

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Liz in Dublin