Daff Patch!

My little patch of daffs is growing. Last year, there were only two blooms. This year there are ten!

In yesterday’s post I asked:

If you could live anywhere in the world, where would that be?

I’m right where I want to be, thanks. Yes or no?

Do you feel the call of the move every few years?

Or… are you a settle into a community for 10-15-25+ years?

1. I always thought living in a Nancy Meyers movie would be lovely. If not that, Tuscany.
2. It will do for the moment, but no.
3. I feel the call of an adventure every few years.
4. On the other hand, being part of a we’ve-been-here-for-generations fam has its appeal. Probably, because it is so foreign to me.

Where are your answers?

In Other News ~

I eat in the spring like someone who’s preggers. The grass starts greening, the flora start pushing up through last year’s leaves and maple keys, and I get hungry. And not in a good way. I just downed some leftover pasta and marinara with a side of fish stick for lunch. I call any breaded, baked fish a fish stick… no matter what shape it is. This one looked like a square hockey puck. And now all I can think about is a Snickers bar. And I can’t even remember the last one I had.

It could be the two days of gardening. Not the fun kind, but the cleanup and the raking before you get to the good stuff. Could I get a Tylenol, please?

Of course, it could have been a week of eating salads and proteins, but I don’t think so. I think it’s spring.

It will wear off eventually, and then I’ll be right back to eating grilled fish and salad and roasted veggies and pulses and…

But right now — Anybody got a Snickers bar?

Ooh, sausages!

Somebody save me.

Truth. I didn’t eat any of those things when I was preggers. I ate coffee grounds. No judging.

Here be Hump Day.

Work week be going down.

Elen