I know my posts have been either political or floral lately. Here’s one that’s neither. Enjoy. And if there’s a 9-year-old in your life, share these with him/her.
And my favorite, in spite of the spelling and grammatical errors:
Peace and giggles, people.
Barely scratched surface
Patina’d revelation
More than meets the eye
Mischievous metal
Scavenger of carrion
Vulture in waiting
Stacked terra cotta
Patient bare receptacles
Filled with potential
Another photo taken at Tallahassee Nursery features this serene little guy. I call this one, “One With Nature.”
Since I saw La La Land this damn song has been stuck in my head. In an attempt to get rid of “City of Stars,” I’m giving it to you. And you. And you, too.
Aren’t these little owls cute? I found them hanging out at Tallahassee Nursery. I call this one, “Owl You Need is Love.”
One of the nicest things I do for myself is to schedule regular facials. I’m fortunate to live near an Aveda Institute where students in the noble art of esthetics practice their burgeoning skills on willing participants for a fraction of the cost of the same service at a regular salon.
My esthetician today was poised and competent. From the initial handshake I could tell I was in for a great experience with Madeline, and I wasn’t disappointed. But this post isn’t about her; it’s about me, as always.
Not long after I’d gotten settled on the table and Madeline began her routine my mind started wandering. Not to a happy place on a beach, or to a ski resort in the alps, but to my future deathbed. Yes, I’m weird that way.
I thought about how many times I’ve gotten a special, one time only event totally wrong. Like the year my sorority in Kansas chose me as their sweetheart. I believe my exact words were, “You’re sh***ing me!”
Or the one time a good looking teenage boy picked up my teenaged self and flirtatiously threw me into a swimming pool. Again, I believe my exact words were, “You’re shi***ing me!”
So I began rehearsing my deathbed speech. Oddly enough, it started with, “You’re sh***ing me!”
Naw. Just kidding. In my fantasy I told everyone gathered around me how much I loved them, and recounted one beautiful memory from my time with each individual. It was moving. I hope I can remember all this when the time comes. But if all else fails there’s always the old standby.
In the wake of tRump banning several mainstream journalists from today’s White House briefing I’m just gonna leave these right here:
This 1955 Nomad was lovingly built by Studly’s friend, Pete. I call it “There’s Nomad like Pete’s.”
Some matters press against the lining of my weary soul. Injustices and inequities abound.
See how the children grow, sweetly innocent, casting about for our undivided attention?
All that the summer child gains, proud accomplishments, another child holds greater
Grace within the sacred sphere. You ignored the offerings of the summer born,
Shrugged aside her efforts. Pierced my heart with your words. Sharp and condescending.
This azalea was lurking in my own front yard. Let’s call it, “Pretty (Close) in Pink.”
Praying for Eyebrowz 
