Last week, on a spring-like day here in Canadaland, I took these shots along the shore of Lake Ontario. It was the wave action that was catching my attention, and the broodiness of the trees.

B r o o d y .

B r o o d y  2 .

Broody Beauty.

The Prime of Miss Jean Broodie! I couldn’t help myself.

Be afraid for this tree. Very afraid. The waves are coming! The waves are coming!
I can’t get old movie titles out of my head.

These branches are making a run for it. I hope they can swim better than G-Pup.

This was me yesterday. ↓

Just a big piece of deadwood, planted on the den sofa, snoozing through episodes of All Creatures Great & Small on the DVD.

Yes, I was a total den ho.

I cannot tell a lie. My deadwood-den sofa-snoozing-sloth was directly related to — and I can hardly bring myself to say it here — daylight saving time and spring forward.

The day of springing forward involved these words, in no particular order:

beep-beep-beep  poke  faint  sprain  massive  prod  ambulance  prick  infection  cute-haircut

I just threw in that last one for fun, or a red herring, or whatever. One of the EMS team had a really cute haircut; the other had really cute no-hair-at-all.

Mr. G, honey didn’t think it was romantic when I wrapped my arms around his neck, moaned, lay my head on his chest, and then bonelessly slid to the floor.

Okay. If I hadn’t been out cold, it would have been romantic, right?

And FYI — I only have his word on this scenario, because I don’t remember anything after saying I’m in trouble here. He probably made that moaning part up.

DST, I’m so over you.

Buhlieve it…

That was my Hello, Monday!

A day late.

But I have a note from the doctor…