I should've worn shorts.

Chains clink as a frisbee smacks into the "hole." I'm not up on the particulars of frisbee golf—sorry, disc golf? Whatever. 70 degrees in November, huh? And the sun's blasting full-bore in an otherwise cloudless sky? Yeesh. I'm in a t-shirt and I'm sweating. Just watch, it'll drop below freezing tonight, though.

There are a few of us out here in t-shirts today.

Naturally, we're talking about sunburns. Shifting my weight from my left foot to my right, I feel the sponginess of what's objectively some pretty green grass for this time of year. I don't even have to think about it: the worst burn I ever got was in the Dominican Republic, on the first day of the trip. And, yep, you bet it was within the first hour. Actually, I think it probably happened in the first 15 minutes... I wore SO much sunscreen, too. It must've been expired but, to this day, I have no idea if it was or not. All I know is that my WASP-y, ancestral-European skin turned the shade of a red sports car by the afternoon and was peeling by nightfall.

CLINKshhwhhhwshh.

Looking up, I see a disc in the basket, chains still swaying.

I was pretty much bed-bound for days after getting that burn, sticking to the sheets in a combination of aloe vera and sweat. Almost a decade later, they'd find (and successfully remove) a basal cell carcinoma between my shoulder blades. And, look, who knows if those things are connected. I mean, you can't convince me they're not... but that doesn't they are, either.

Another disc crashes into the post and falls beside the first. A bead of sweat slides down my neck and between my shoulders, right past that scar. What a great day... how lucky are we? For all the shit I talk about feeling restless, I like living here. This place is great.

"Could you live somewhere that was hot year-round?" I ask.

Every head shakes.

Yeah, same.

Sometimes I dream of far-off places. The sun hits my skin and I picture exploring far away coastlines. I think of small cafes and villas and sleepy surf-breaks. And, while I still want to go see as many of those as I can, I'm ok with doing it in small doses.

A smile slides its way onto my face.

Whenever I veer off my path in life—going in directions for which I'm not all that  well-suited—I seem to get pushed toward where I need to be (sometimes harder than others). Maybe that's a bit "survivorship-biased" of me. But I thank my lucky stars—or whatever's steering this ship—for the nudges, regardless.

This day's a good one; a bright one. It's a hot, loungey, soak-it-all-in type of day.

There won't be many more like it for a while.

Or, maybe there will.

Who knows.

* * *

Got any lucky stars to thank?

onward.

For more on this daily column, read the backstory here. And if you know someone who'd appreciate this, pass it along.