With the exception of the artificially tanned population of New Jersey, most people in the Northeast region of our great nation are quite pasty. I get that and I’m ok with that. But I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror this morning and I. Am. Pale.

I’m so white, I’m pink. My complexion is that of young swine.

It’s only December in Vermont, and I’m already itching for some warmth and sunshine.

Perhaps I will take respite in French Polynesia. Follow the lead of Gauguin and take up a harem of young Tahitians for which to “draw inspiration.” And by “draw inspiration,” I mean I would totally make out with them.

If this blog goes on hiatus, you’ll know why.