If this past weekend in Margaritaville were an actual Margarita, it would be one of those fishbowl-sized ones.
It's Monday afternoon, and I'm still woozy with the wonder of it all.
White and whirling cloud of terns,
The man who loves me watching the white and whirling cloud of terns,
and later, gathered around the kitchen island, friends, wine, and ice cream with espresso poured over the top.
Over. The. Top.