I spent last night sipping icy vodkas on a midtown rooftop with a viking. There were five of us all up, representing four continents.

I’ve already started the story… That said, my bloody writing section of this page is still a disaster from when I had a tanty and tore it down.

Lucky I’m being easy on myself, head shakes are all I can say about that. Soon to be sorted.

Summer changes my entire world. The decade-ish I spent in Australia was warm weather galore. The only rough thing about coming back to my beloved Manhattan was that I hate winter. I belong outside with bare feet. Preferably climbing a mango tree.

The viking doesn’t fancy the summer, he reckoned it was way too hot yesterday.

I also made a friend at our table from Botswana while I was on the roof last night; she invited me there for my birthday in September. I’m sure the climate in Africa will be a lush way to kick of this 39th year around.

I like that all of this occurred a ten minute wander away from my new writing desk.

I was up at 5am today to watch the sunrise. Once summer arrives, I truly worship every moment of it. It becomes even more precious when it’s taken away for about ten months every year. Some people like seasons, I basically prefer summer. Although autumn in New England has a life of her own.

It’s wonderful to feel better. The silence did me more good than I hoped for.