The best pineapple I’ve ever had was at Anthony’s Key Resort in Roatan, Honduras, Central America.
Locally grown and picked fresh. Eating fruit picked ripe from the tree is a guaranteed way to ruin you for life. I can’t jet down to Central America everytime I want a perfect pineapple, and Lyle won’t let me use his Tardis to go back in time to get peaches and melons from Carter Hill.
So, my question is this? Do I live a life of adventure, trying new things, expanding my horizons, if what I learn makes me dissatisfied with the life I have?
Or is the trick to love the life I have and cherish the memory of the perfect peach?
How do I find the EQUIPOISE that I so desperately need when I must shop at Walmart, but wish I was diving in the turquoise ocean exploring coral trenches?
I’m a damn diet Coke commercial. I want to be Jacques Cousteau AND a Soccer Mom. I want Time AND Money. I want my cake and to eat it too.
Santa’s on notice for next year. I don’t want much. I want it all.