In recognition of Victoria Day weekend — the May long weekend — I decided Tuesday is the new Monday. It was an
executive decision total whim.
You didn’t want to hear from me anyway. I was high on 2 and 3/4 nights of fireworks.
Yes, fireworks in Burbville.
It was a toss up who would get the anti-anxiety med, the G-Pup or me.
The G-Pup won hands down.
I actually like the bang, the whiz, the pop… and the occasional fwump of a cracker gone wrong.
Well, maybe not right over the house. I like to be on a blanket on some grassy knoll overlooking a lake, with the bang-whiz-pop going off on the lake.
But I’m not picky.
Victoria Day weekend — the weekend of pool and cottage opening, grillin’, and long lines at the nurseries.
Since I don’t have a pool, nor a cottage, I joined those standing in the nursery lines.
When I go to the nurseries, I take cash so the G-Man doesn’t have to rent a trailer to haul my garden splendor back to the casa.
You have only yourself to blame, G-Man!
Let’s have a little morning splendor from my own garden. This was taken yesterday.
No. I never tire of it. The scent! The scent!
You know the drill. Bigger is better. Click.
And a little gratuitous pink shot from the morning G-Pup walk.
Oh, and this. The trees are dropping their blossoms, I tell you. Make way for the leaves!
See. It’s Tuesday instead of Monday.
So I can get away with three shots.
Here be Tuesday.
The new Monday.