Fridaaaaay!… Look This Way 10

November Roses!

I love these pink fairy roses in every season. They are June – November bloomers. Finally succumbing to a hard frost a few days ago, they all look much like the pinky brown tones in this image. There is beauty even in that.

Nice maple leaf photo bomb.

True Confessions ~

I needed to reschedule a hair appointment this morning. When I called to do just that, the person on the other end — not the regular receptionist — asked me what I needed done so she would know what time slot to slip me into. I needed my roots done and a blow dry.

But that’s not what I said.

What I said was, “I’ll need my roots done and a blow #%*.”

Yeah. A real Lucy moment.

All you could hear was G-Man laughing guffawing in the background. Me going — No. No. No! And a weak giggle on the other end.

I asked who I was speaking to. Because when you say that to someone, you should know their name.


I can never go back there again.

And I should never be allowed to use the telephone before coffee.

Here be Friday.

I can’t even.

You know what to do. Meet you in the bar in 3…2…1…

I’ll be the one having the tequila shots.


Single Shot Monday: Twofer + In Other News…


The pink fairy roses have a quality even in the winter snowscape.

Gimme all the pink fairy roses in the land.


Not much gets cut much back in the autumn, because these winter garden views are what get me through the snowy cold that is Canadaland.

Of course, if I lived on the east coast — New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, Prince Edward Island, Newfoundland and Labrador — this frontscape would be buried.

In Other News

I’m hibernating. We’ve yet to have a fire in the fireplace this winter, because that sucker just eats warm air for breakfast. It feels too cold, and the second floor pines for a hot water bottle. Me, too!

Five Hour Stew and home baked bread is the order of the day. Warms the gut and expands the butt. Always a double-edged sword. Anything hot. Get it? I’m living on lemon ginger and peppermint teas.

The tree is down and the stockings are off the doors, but the other remnants of the season remain. The G-Man whines if everything red and shiny suddenly disappears. I get that. The only poinsettia I bought this year is limping along on my desk. It was the Charlie Brown Christmas tree of poinsettias. Still is.

I might have eaten my weight in clementines in December. It’s one of my favorite holiday harbingers.

Speaking of the season, we went the non-trad route. It just felt right for this year. A French Canadian Tourtière for the eve. Okay. That is traditional, but not in my family. A Tuscan Bread Vegetable Soup for Christmas day. We didn’t miss a turkey or ham and all the trimmings. We had a Nicolas Cage film marathon and schlepped around in sweats and socks. Peeps visited. We visited peeps. A good time was had by all. The new year was ushered in with a great deal of hope, but without fanfare. The end.

And Monday is in the house in all its wintry glory.

I’m glued to Big Dell. Yes, I named my laptop. And flexing the writing brain. That’s gonna hurt.