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 .
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.
That was my Hello, Monday!
A day late.
But I have a note from the doctor…