Strawberry Shortcake Island

They say that the world is getting warmer each day...

So that by the time our grandchildren have grandchildren, it’ll be hot enough to cook a potato.

Now, I’m not sure who “they” are, if it’s a group of hes, shes, or Easter bunnies (I sure do like me a chocolate bunny now and then), but they got one thing right: It’s getting hotter, and it’s getting hotter fast.

So fast, in facteroo, that when the rest of the Say household and I woke up sweating this morning (MORNING), the first thing that comes to mind is “Gee…I could sure use a trip to Cameron Highlands”

Cameron Highlands, as in One of the or possibly The coldest place in Malaysia, brimming with tourist loving pinkness. Pink, used in the sentence “Oh sweet! That pink strawberry keychain looks so cute!” “Wow who knew pink plastic tea leaves could look so ADORABLE” Or “Gee whiz, that pink rose, sure smells like a pink rose”

Seriously, I can't help myself from expecting Strawberry Shortcake to burst out of the bushes and dash off with our wallets and DSLR camera.

Back in Texas whenever the day got too warm, we’d pack up our things (Roadtrip anyone?) and head to Lake Tahoe for the day…ahh good times… So, apparently things haven’t changed much.  The temperature’s still rising, and we’re still avoiding the issue that maybe (just maybe) we ought to do something about it.

Heck, even staying in Cameron Highlands right now fills my spineless soul with guilt. What kind of logic is this? Burning fossil fuels and releasing carbon emissions just to escape the heat? Really Clarissa? Really??? 

I did try to make a pact with myself. Thats it Clarissa…No more AC, no more whining and whinging. No more impromptu trips to Cameron Highlands to escape your action's dire consequences.

But I do, and I did. I mean, who was I kidding? I’m a teenager. We have no willpower. So tonight, after having stared at all the hot Cameron Highland guys passing me by with fried mushrooms, mint ice cream, chocolate strawberries and sweet corn settling away nicely in my stomach, I went to sleep fully convinced that I was going to end up as a fat old pervert living in a world full of baked potatoes lying on the streets.

The road to Cameron Highlands

The first agenda on my list upon arriving at Cameron Highlands
 Get souvenirs for my peeps. Thats right, go shopping for that elite group of awesome people I call my friends...OK but seriously, buying for friends is no laughing matter. I'm not (and never want to be) the kind of person who goes to somewhere picturesquely breathtaking and brings back a hundred generic, interchangeable key chains with smiley faces.

Noted, that sort of Sure-you're-my-friend-but-I-don't-really-give-a-shit-cause-this-is-MY-holiday attitude might not be intentional, but it's one of the things that really ticks me off. Almost as much as "Having a great time. Wish you were here" Postcards.

GRAHHHHH! I don't really need to see a postcard sized photo of you lounging at the beach when I'm getting ready for next year's SPM. Yes, I'd like to hear all about it when you're back from sunbathing. No, I don't need to know every single detail of your life especially if you're telling the same thing to every single one of your friends.

Here's one of my favorite haunts whenever visiting Cameron Highlands...You'll definitely get a one of a kind gift at this place.

So that was day one. I'll be posting Day Numero Dos anytime soon...