How do I love thee, Mr. Bates Downton Abbey? Let me count the ways… another day. Until then, enjoy this wonderful bit of Downton fun.

To learn more about BBC Comic Relief’s Red Nose Day, click here.

For Writers ~ @ Bob Mayer’s Blog, Mayer’s Reflections on the Value of Bestseller Lists vs. The Long Tail. The key to success in digital publishing is not the immediate success and the bestseller list.  It’s the long tail,… Clickety, click.

For Writers ~ @ Girlfriends Book Club, Guest post: Alexandra Sokoloff by Brenda Janowitz. Talkin’ Love Story Elements. Always find something interesting at GBC. Click, click, click.

For Comma Lovers Everywhere ~ @ Behler Blog, The Oxford Comma…’Nuf said. This made my week and filled me with glee. Click on over.

For Food Lovers ~ @ Inspired Taste, Joanne’s 46 Superbowl Recipes. Small bites, dips, sweets, drinks. Have mercy! Love this site. What are you waiting for? Also, big giveaways all month. Click, man, click.

TGIF, baby!

I don’t apologize.

Lunch…

Tomato, baby! Campbell’s. There is no other if you’re a kid, or me.

In this…

There is no other if you’re a kid, or me.

I’ve had these soup mugs forever. Okay. They didn’t exit the womb with me, but a long time. Long. Time.

I have four. Still chip-free. That comes under the heading Miracle.

I paired my Campbell’s with a grilled Granny Smith apple and white cheddar — of the old variety — cheese sandwich on multigrain. Knocks my socks off every time.

Lunch as God intended.

Sometime on Friday, I’ll be in Matinee-land seeing this…

Mr. G, honey is girding his loins.

No, really. He’s a good sport.

No, really. I’m going to owe him big time. He’s gonna make me see The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo on the Big Screen, when I would prefer to see it on say, my iPhone.

Try not to judge me. I’ve been a Stephanie Plum fan for a long time.

I’ll let you know.

Who else is going?

That’s all for Hump Day, aka Wednesday, folks!

Gone for 5 days.

I’d like to say it was a horror, but it wasn’t.

I’d like to say it was 14 inches of snow, followed by an ice storm, followed by power outages — Hello, PNW! — but it wasn’t.

I’d like to say it was 5 days on a private island soaking up sun, surf and umbrella drinks with the man of my dreams, but it wasn’t.

The truth is I was just….

… writing.

… doing professional reading in current thinking on indie publishing, traditional publishing, social media, blogging.

… combing through a whole lotta years of paperwork looking for some information I needed. Mercy!

… encouraging the G-Pup up and down the stairs, inside and outside, as she heals from a torn nail after slipping on the ice. Poor baby!

… going to Matinee-land to see The Iron Lady — Meryl Streep is a force of nature and my favorite female actor.

… going to Matinee-land to see Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, which was most excellent, even though I got lost a time or two. I need to see that again.

… exercising. Help me, Rhonda!

… living my sucky, sugar-free life. 14 days and counting. Wahoo. I couldn’t even work up enough of a wahoo to put an exclamation point after it. Told ya. Sucky.

That’s it in a nutshell.

Just living.

Everyday America.

Canadaland, too.

I saw them. Yup, I did. But only in bits and pieces, because smack in the middle of the Golden Globes was Downton Abbey, and Downton Drama trumps Golden Globes any day. I was delighted to see that they won a Golden Globe for Best Mini-Series or Motion Picture Made for Television.

I had to go online this morning to get a good glimpse at all the gowns and tuxes. There were some beautiful gowns worn last night. Didn’t you think? I loved Emma Stone in Lanvin, and Nicole Kidman in Versace. But I absolutely adored Kate Winslet in Jenny Packham.

Moving on.

Okay. I can’t wait to see The Artist.

Now, I’m moving on.

I saw this cookie at my Second Cup yesterday. Isn’t it just as cute as can be? I love the Canadian Maple Leaf on it.

The barista gave me the look when I told her I was buying the cookie to take a picture of it, that I wasn’t actually going to eat it. Of course, I might have given me the look, too. I had cookie monster written all over my face.

But I know, and y’all know that I’m in M&M rehab, so I’m not eating sugar. No. I. Am. Not. And that’s going really well for me.

I gave the cookie to Mr. G, honey. He’s not in any kind of rehab, refined sugar or otherwise.

I might have inhaled some cookie scent before I handed it over.

Our winter weather is being held hostage in the PNW right now. They’re getting inches and inches of our snow, and we’re getting their 45 Faren temps with rain and fog and darksome and graysome.

I had to beetle to the first floor and light a fire in the fireplace and make a big pot of soup and bread and stare at the fire while I worked. It was the only thing that made sense to my weather-fogged brain.

Now, we’re in a wind warning.

I’m thinking Mama Weather might be in M&M rehab.

Might.

I wanted those gloves.

I needed those gloves.

My gloves were MIA.

This happens to me all the time. I have a box of single gloves. Don’t know why I’m keeping them. Maybe I think the glove fairy will show up with the matching gloves.

We needed cash for the show. The most expedient thing to do was hit the drive-through bank en route. As we approached the window, Mr. G, honey hit the button for the driver’s window. It bzzzzed down about half an inch and whined about how frrrreakin’ cold it was outside.

“It’s okay,” I said. “I’ll just jump out and run up to the drive-through window. It’s all good.”

So I did. I finger-waved to the little camera guy just to be friendly. I live in Canadaland, ya know.

I jumped back in the car and we sped away within the suggested speed limit. I swears!

Me: Oops.

Mr. G: Oops, what?

Me: I think my gloves are in the drive-through lane.

Mr. G: (Sigh) Check the floor.

Me: Nope. I’m pretty sure they’re in the drive-through lane.

Mr. G: (Sigh) Check your purse.

Me: Nope. I’m pretty sure…

Mr. G: (Sigh) Okay.We’ll go back.

Me: No time.

Mr. G: (Siiiigh) We’ll make a quick check on the way back tonight.

See. I’m one of those people. One of those people who take their gloves off in the car, in the restaurant, in the theater, in the… set them on their laps, on the table, on the bar, on the… and promptly walk away.

The special people.

People with a fat glove budget.

People with a box of single gloves.

People with no gloves.

In the car, I mostly lose one glove, so we know where I mostly lose my gloves. Yup.

After the IMF completed their mission impossible, and after a large skim milk cappuccino with cinnamon (that kept me up until 5:30 in the morning), we sped back to the drive-through-house-of-money where Mr. G, honey crept up the circular drive while I kept my eyes peeled for thin, black leather gloves.

If it hadn’t been for the fingers, I never would have spotted them. Oh, where was my camera! They were side by side, and less than pancake thin, and snow-covered, and riddled with tire tread.

The treaded dead.

It was a horror.

I need these ~

Not for signing, not for safety, not for clubbing, not for…

I need them so that I can spot my gloves in my lap, or across the road, or on the exterior glass wall of the mother of all skyscraper hotels .

I need them so my gloves don’t become the treaded dead.

It’s not pretty.

Hello, Monday!

Image courtesy of The Glow Company here.