Fragmented Finale

Well, February Fragments is wrapping up for another year.

I know my February posts aren’t top-heavy with content and may feel like a cheat to some but the project still serves my originally stated purpose:

I really like the idea of making a commitment to blogging something each day . . .  It occurred to me  . . . that I have an "odd bits" folder full of silly pictures, snippets, and fragments of blog posts that I've never quite been able to whip into full-blown post form.

   hmmm...

The exercise might even have a tertiary benefit, besides giving me a small challenge and cleaning out my junk folder. I know I've mentioned this before but I have an unfortunate tendency to fall into a February Funk. Cabin fever strikes and I just generally get a case of the big ol' fat and ugly blues. So it struck me that perhaps a month of February Fragments might help liven up my sometimes dire month.

The fragments are random, often vanilla, and generally pretty darned short.

But I'm hoping that we'll all have fun, me with gathering them and you with reading them.

Thank you all who come along with me.

I know I usually end the month with a picture of some lovely place where we can all go and vacation together but, well, there’s still a pandemic out there. So I’m thinking maybe this year, we should just Zoom from a safe location of our choosing.

This is where I’ll be:

Let me know and I’ll send out the invites! :-D

See you in March…

The Perpetual Struggle

 

Life Tip #61

 

The Fortune Cookie Writer Saw Me Coming

 Because seriously, is this me, or what?

(Altho’ I must say that balance may be more than that, but I still consider any day where I manage to achieve the minimum standard to be a good one!)

Of Safe Words and Traffic Signals

My safewords are pretty standard:

  Green is “I’m good, keep going”

  Yellow is “Don’t stop… but please take your foot off the gas”

  Red is “Stop - Now!”

One lovely thing about being together so long, however, is that I rarely need to use any of them, because BG is very, very good at reading my body language and will generally have reacted accordingly even before I need to channel a traffic light.

This is particularly useful as I am a child of Southern New England.

You know, the place where we hold this truth to be self-evident…

Not a good time for confusion to set in...

My Fickle Fictional Heart

I won't lie - I do this.

Of course, I also suffer from fictional infidelity, since my affections careen wildly between Charles Cornick and Jamie Fraser. (Perhaps both? “Yoohooo, boys…!”)

But lately, I've thrown over these men and given my devotion completely to a fictional place, 

because I’m officially in love with Three Pines.

I want to go there. No, I want to live there.

I want a boulangerie around the corner and a bookstore with comfy chairs.

I want to eat 3 out of 4 meals at Olivier’s bistro. 

(All others being potlucks served at a kitchen table holding one of Myrna’s bouquets.)

I want to be sassed by Gabri, I want to look out my windows and watch Ruth walk her duck.

I want to help Clara get the cracker crumbs out of her hair.

I want Inspector Gamache to wave at me as he walks past with the dogs.

I do not consider this too much to ask. :-)

The Unusual ℞

but I’m preeeetty sure this is what he meant…!