No, not that kind of buzz.

I’ve been uploading and editing images from the-camera-I-have-yet-learned-to-work and found these shots.

During the holidays — there’s a dim memory — Mr. G, honey comes home bearing gifts. Gifts he’s been given. Gifts he’s found under the office tree. Gifts he’s purchased. Gifts.

He came home with this —

No, he isn’t in pest control, but I could definitely see the advantages. A useful skill. I don’t have it.

It was filled with yummy things, which I think I might have eaten. Yes, I’m sure it was me. But I saved the ribbon for Mr. G, honey. That’s just the kind of gal I am.

If I hold it in my right hand, I see this —

There’s probably some way to get the glare off this image, but I haven’t learned it yet. I am unskilled in the ways of picture-snapping and should probably spend more time at The Pioneer Woman. I do spend time there — a lot — but it’s usually in the Cooking section, or the Confessions section. I can’t help myself. Ree makes me laugh. Ree makes me hungry. Ree makes me wish I had an iron skillet.

If I hold it in my left hand, I see this —

I know why those buzzy little, fat-cheeked bees are laughing. They’ve had their espresso shots for the day. I could look like that if I had my espresso shot.

Mr. G, honey — I’ve got your mug, and I’m drinking out of it.

That’s how I roll.

Elen