It’s Monday, blog. Do you know where your pets are? One of mine is about three feet away from me, tearing into the rawhide I bought her at Walgreens. I can hear Bear Cub tinkling around on a lower level. It’s pre-dogwalk-coffee-slam time.

These purple flowers are in our front yard, and not labeled on the chart, but some clever girl on Instagram informed me they are called “bachelor’s buttons”. Thanks, Instagram!

There’s a new stupid website called how-old.net where you upload a photo of yourself and the computer tries to guess how old you are. If you wear glasses, have light-colored hair, or wear make-up, it automatically makes you older, I’ve determined. I uploaded various photos and received various ages back. My favorite was on a picture of me around age 6 with “40” as the estimated age. Uh huh. Probably because of the white hair.

Will I ever grow tired of watching Parker Posey bitch it up in “Dazed and Confused”? NOPE.

Joshy’s love note to me on May first. More like LAY DAY, amiriiiiiite? Sorry.

Somehow this pin pack of a green plant and a cup of coffee labeled “Sunday Morning” spoke to me. I later found out it was designed by a Canadian graffiti artist, and was soothed by that information. The same artist made another pin called “Sensitive Artist” that I NEED.

My Couch to 5k training sessions have been extremely enjoyable, I gotta tell you. Gorgeous forest vs. boring treadmill…the choice is easy.

Along with the pin set, I also could not resist buying a GOOD TIMES necklace for myself, and my cousin Erika.

Pretty sunset out the beauty room window. Sewing room? Dress and wig room?

Corinne and I just got freshly shellacked this afternoon, after I got off (early) from work. I chose purple glitter, she chose blue glitter. Then we went and got lunch–I chose a nice healthy Cobb salad and now I feel like my belly is going to explode. How can a stinkin’ salad make me so bloated? Not fair.