Every time I come back to Florida through a sleepy little seaside town, it makes me miss Florida just a little bit more. Being near the beach is as good for my soul as being near the mountains. I need sun and sand just like I need snow and sandstone.
I was walking along Flagler Avenue this morning in New Smyrna Beach. The little tourist shops are just opening up, the locals are going about their business, waiting for the tourists to arrive. Me? I set foot in one of those little tourist traps that I'd never have ventured into except when drunk to get a trinket for m'lady. Joking with the storekeep about that fact, she laughed and said she gets more business from locals than tourists. Go figure.
So how to remedy this little problem in my head? I need to move to Springfield. The beach is a day trip away. Capitol City is field trip accessible. There's an elementary school with inept teachers, a moronic principal, and a bumbling superintendent. I'll be running the joint in six months. Mount Springfield has snow for that fix; it snows often enough to start my own snowplow business on the side. Minor league baseball, kids' sports teams, hiking trails, all-you-can-eat seafood restaurants and a top-notch watering hole called Moe's.
I am of course referring to the Springfield with Evergreen Terrace and a Kwik-E Mart and Bart, Homer, Lisa, Marge, and Maggie. Too bad I'm not a cartoon...