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.

It seems I covered this sensitive subject before. On a Thursday. Back in 2009.

Somewhere, I fell off the “No sugar, Sugar!” wagon, and here I am again.

Back in M&M rehab.

It’s not just M&Ms, though they are my stress food of choice. It’s refined sugar — in coffee, in tea, on breakfast cereal. Jam on toast, syrup on pancakes/French toast/crepes. COOKIES! It’s viral, I tell ya.

So.

I’ve had to quit. Cold turkey. No sugar. On anything. No artificial sweeteners. They taste like sugar, and it is the sweet taste of sugar that I must be rid of.

Love you, baby, but you’re killing me.

Just Say No to sugar.

And that made me think about The Archies and…

(Via YouTube)

As much as I love you sugar, we’re breaking up.

You can have your class ring back.

Don’t think of it as being dumped. Liar. Liar. Pants on fire.

Kicked to the curb.

I’m sorry! Okay? Not really.

You’re just bad for me.

It’s not you. It’s me… The ultimate kiss-off.

I think that went well, don’t you?

But, but, but…

This is the neverending story ——–>

No. This isn’t my dirty laundry. I could should would never show you that. I bought the use of this image online. Gotta love the internetz.

It is a reasonable representation x 10 of something that never ends in our ark of two.

It’s clothes. It’s bedding. It’s towels. It’s table linens. It’s G-Pup towels/bedding/table linens. Yes, she has a mastodon-sized placemat underneath her G-Pup-dining dishes. She’s a Golden. Enough said.

Where is the laundry fairy?

Riding a luckdragon somewhere, no doubt.

I should be burning a bazillion calories a day — or 348 — running from the W&D in the basement to my office on the second floor. At least.

My only consolation is ——–>

Even Santa, baby…

We’re experiencing warm days, in the low 80s with very low humidity. Dry heat. It never happens. I’m basking in it.

I’m hanging laundry out. Because I can. Because it smells good. Because I’m enjoying the process of snapping it, and pegging it, and letting my mind wander as I snap and peg.

Slow laundry.

I want to slow it down for a little bit. Just for awhile. Even if it’s only as long as we’re experiencing dry heat — a minute day or two. The dry heat is whispering my name.

Over at Small Notebook, Rachel Meeks is using a beater to clean rugs. She calls it cleaning therapy. I call it the whap of happiness. Bring it.

While I’m basking in all this dry heat, doing slow laundry, I might just ease into a wicker chair and watch that slow laundry flap in the breeze.

I could open one of these. Have a glass of iced tea.

Happy Hump Day.