It's Tuesday. The weekend is a long, lonely 83-ish hours away. Plus, it's chilly, sock donning weather. What? Don't sniffle at me. It may be Florida, but it's cold here, too. No, seriously. It's in the 70s or something. I'm wearing pants. This sort of thing is no joke for us Key West lovin' water babies. When fall's Jacket Weather arrives, it's usually a big story 'round these parts. We do not possess the tough, windshield scraper powers of you Northerners. And by Northerners, I mean anyone living above the border of our Sunshine State. Yes, I may have been born in the Windy City during the year of Chicago's Famous Blizzard Of '79, but I've long lost any ability I had to thrive while living among the powdery white stuff. I think it's a photosynthesis thing. Don't get me wrong, I'll hop on a plane and throw myself (poorly) down a ski slope any day of the week. I heart hot cocoa. I'm all about fireplaces. I adore the idea of sweater snuggly weather. But when the sky starts to go gray, and the wind starts to whistle, I start whining louder than a 2 year old who's Binky was stolen like Kate Gosselin's quarter million. I'm a wimp when it comes to low temperatures, no matter how much I try to love them. The truth is, they just don't love me back. Sooo. In honor of all of my friends huddled around fireplaces, and to make myself feel better about the long sleeve shirt that I'll have to sport during my run later, please enjoy some super duper purty ocean pictures, taken during our warm May wedding. And if it will make the weekend seem any closer, feel free to snag one of these as a screen saver, or the like. My 'puter is my version of office art right now, since we are living out of boxes for the next month or so. Happy Tuesday.