One Big-Ass Bonus Blog / Wednesday, June 15

I have a stash of photos for "in case I forget a day" situations. This doesn't seem to hold a lot of integrity for me, though, so I'm purging. Let my purge be your victory. (The word according to Laura. You may be seated.)

I thought this was such a sweet scene. I'm sure these complete strangers don't mind me posting their photo on my website. I figure if I say "whoops" and whistle like I was mindin' my own beeswax, it's all fair ... and likely square, as well. 

From my backyard. I had to shake the ants from it before snapping this. I'm pretty sure they're still marching toward the house to kick my ass. BeeTeeDubs: did you know ants perpetuate the opening of peonies? If you kill 'em, yer flowers will give you the little stamin finger and not open at all. Tis a true story according to my friend, Steve. (HI, STEVE!)

The maple in my backyard. I want to hug it. Ah, hell. Who are we kidding? I DO hug it!

This is my neighbor's backyard. I like to peak through the fence periodically. This sort of vicarious voyeurism momentarily allows me a space free of weeds, thorns, dead (surprise!) birds from BobCat and the errant axe or two from Mike. (God bless them both.) 

Speakin' of Mike ... I came home from a hissy fit drive (what, like you never have?) to find him in the garage, listening to country music and burning shit while sitting on an inverted bucket. THAT'S MY BOY!

Mid-hissy fit, I saw this rainbow. I stopped raving to myself and crying, turned on the engine and went home. Some things you just don't piss on. A promise from the Big Dude is one of them. 

My morning was pretty glorious. That espresso concentrate I made overnight (and strained for an hour this morning) plus chocolate almond milk and a shot of vanilla syrup made that one of the finest iced coffees I've ever had. The new Rolling Stone in my hand damn near curled my toes. (Sorry, Dad. I know they're a bunch of hippie communist slackers, but I like it. A LOT. And yes, Sir: I was, indeed, wearing my pink peace sign t-shirt. I'm crazy liberal like that.) 

And finally .... my cookie jar is complete. Somehow, the job search and the bill collectors all fuzz away when I see this jar filled with these cookies. I feel whole and capable and all, "VIVA MOI, BEECHIZ!" (I'm not sure where that came from. Probably, it's all the sugar. I recommend this method of sugar consumption and self-proclamation for everyone. On a monthly basis. You'll know when the time is right.)

I'm on a road trip with 'Ria tomorrow and you just never know what I'll A) talk her into or B) find along the way. I'm even taking the real camera. Stay tuned!