These unseasonably warm winter days remind me how much I love spring. I feel eminently better in freeing dresses & swishy skirts than betrothed to bulky sweaters & bound up in pants. I want the warmth of the sun always on my skin. & I prefer hot yoga, like Baptiste or Bikram, to 'regular' yoga. I've even been known to carry my own tiny bottle of Tabasco in the pocket of my purse. Too, the charred oak burn of a brown liquor almost always trumps vodka or gin—no matter the season.
If you visited my liquor cabinet, you would see at this moment one tequila, three sotols, two gins, an akavit, & no vodka at all. But you would first see seven whiskeys, ten bourbons, & three tongue-curlingly hot ryes. & eight, yes, eight bitters—bitters, after all, being the babouches & handbags of the whiskey-slanted wardrobe.
Ayurvedic doctors would surely name me a Pitta-type: light, warm, ambitious, & determined. Precise. Passionate. Principled. But above all, having a heat-seeking, fiery nature that manifests itself throughout the body & mind. & I'd have to say that that's true. & then I'd tip my spring bonnet & drink to it.