I see a field trip in our future…

Mr. G, honey sent me a link to the Canadiano site. I think he’s probably hinting for this personalized crafted coffeemaker. He’s about all things coffee at the moment.

I’m all about the verra creative videos. And the limited edition DoubleDouble. Heh.

Made in Canada, baby.

Because I like to share, and it’s Hump Day — that day of the week that we just need to bzzzzzzz right over — I give you Parker.

Parker knows how to make a manwich coffee.

The next time Canadiano does a Pop-Up shop, I see a field trip in our future. I am intrigued.

Wednesday, we’re on it.

Thanks for the tip, Mr. G, honey.

Now, which wood will he want?


Disclaimer: Canadiano doesn’t know me. They’ve never heard of me or my little bloggity. The end.

Just because…

…it’s Tuesday.

Just because it was 68 Fahren and raining yesterday.

Just because it is 28 Fahren and snowing today.

Just because I think I saw the Easter Bunny, with his ears twitching and his foot thumping, hiding eggs in the compost bin.

He is one diabolical bunny.

I’m on to you this year, E.B.

Just because.

Musician J. Walter Hawkes is having way too much fun playing that trombone.

He can play for me any second of the day.

My love for the music of Norah Jones is great.

I am for sure procrasti-writing today.

Gonna be sinkin’ soon.


Note: Here is a link to the music video for this piece. It has awesome. Sinkin’ Soon.

Single Shot Monday: And so it begins…

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And so it begins.

You have no idea how much this warmed the cockles of my heart.




It’s the first tell of spring in our back garden.

The weekend found me laboring.

Laboring with garden rakes and leaf bags and apple baskets and kneeling boards.

Just doing a little spring clean up.

Gracie Allen Golden Pup rolled on her back like a horse, sniffed all the way to China, and ate something in the leaves that caused her to Golden poop green on my freshly raked lawn. Good times.

And in true Golden fashion, she waited until she was in the kitchen to heave the rest.


Moving right along.

The lesson learned from my laboring weekend is that Tai Chi doesn’t cover the muscles needed for raking the dead grass, leaves, and unidentified inedible objects — UIOs — out of the yard.

Should have been using a rowing machine.

And Monday rolls in balmy as you please.


Close Shot Friday 049

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It felt like a black and white Friday.

It’s 57 Fahren here today, and I can barely contain myself.

If you see someone doing handsprings down the boulevard, you probably just had an Elen sighting.

Please don’t dial 911.

I’m having too much fun.

It’s a wing festival for date night tonight. Wings and craft beers. I swoon.

You know what to do. Meet you in the bar beer tent in 3…2…1…


Single Shot Monday: Clown Flowers…

Every year about this time, one of our local nurseries does this…

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…plunks some happy flowers into winter barrels, along with some birch limbs and stems of pussy willow.

I call them clown flowers. They always make me smile big and make me think of Disneyland.

Today, I wiggled out of my yoga pants, before the fine hairs on my skin took root, and crawled into some jeans and a hoodie. I needed to get out of the house in the worst way. The worst way.

I needed a nursery fix.

I needed to buy a pot or ten of daffodils.

I needed some clown flowers.

The snow is almost gone. There’s just an Illinois-shaped patch left about half the size of the patio. I squish and squelch around it in my garden boots.

There’s a patch of crocus peeking out as it huddles against the foundation of the house — Is it secret? Is it safe? [Name that movie.]

There are signs of spring.

Let’s just go wild and crazy and do a twofer for Single Shot Monday.

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We can all use the extra smile.

Clown Flowers.

Don’t it feel good?


Close Shot Friday 048

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We visited friends in Philadelphia in May of 2013. I was a Philly first timer. We spent a day riding their public transit, neck-craning their tall buildings, and sampling their foods.

This was inside the Reading Terminal Market — not to be missed — where I embraced my love of signage.

Friday brings a downpour of rain. A deluge. Maybe a torrential. Rain, baby, rain.

The perfect day to go see Noah.

I’ll be the girl in the wellies, hanging on to an inside out umbrella.

You know what to do. Meet you in the bar in 3…2…1…