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Saturday, September 16, 2017

my boo...

Saturday “sayings” from Pinterest (I have no clue who to give credit to for these funnies/cuties. Suffice it to say I wasn’t clever enough to think of ANY of them myself. Not a one.):


I love you Friday but


Saturday morning


you my boo.


dear Saturday,


 you are my





(Many of Y’all understand what I love about this one: The way “favourite” is spelled. The way TLC and I strongly feel it should always be spelled.)


on Saturdays

     we wear



(Yes. Yes, we do. When we can. Okay. That’s not often. But it happens occasionally…and those are often THE BEST SATURDAYS.)


I was thinking last night about weekends. You might assume, if you is a youngun, or younger than, oh, I don’t know, 60, that when you’re a “retired” peep, all the days would kind of flow together. And, to some extent, that can happen. My Sweet Hubby (MSH) needs me and/or a calendar and/or his phone calendar and/or the television to remind him what day it is. (Sometimes I have to remind him several times during that day...sigh...) Monday holidays? They mess us up (mainly him) horribly. Forever.

BUT, STRANGELY enough, we still look forward to Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays! We truly do. I guess from the time we’re born most of us get it in our heads and souls that the weekend is THE WEEKEND. Special. Cherished. Treasured. Lazy. FUN. (Yes, some people work all weekend long—or part of a weekend—and, for them, Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays might be like any other day of the week. Or their “weekends” might be our “weekdays.” (I hate that for them. At the same time, I thank doctors, nurses, firemen and women, policemen and women, EMTS, retail and grocery store workers, and millions and millions of others who keep This World running on weekends. Thank you for your willingness to be there for us when we need you. God bless you.)

MSH and I seriously can’t wait for Friday nights! We have an on-going date to meet in our Great Room for some television watchin’. Our “date” begins around 5:00 p.m. and ends at approximately 8:00 p.m. That’s the time he’s ready to go to our bedroom and watch his National Geographic shows. That’s my time for Dateline or 20/20 or something I’ve recorded earlier in the week and haven’t had time to watch.

This Saturday morn we’re waiting on a painter to come repair a little spot on one of our ceilings. It's not a big deal but it needs to be done right. (MSH tried to fix it a couple of days ago. He was afraid he’d make it worse. So there you go. The little spot will cost us $200 to get repaired. Yikes. Sheesh.) I’m about to be Chef Grammy Ga-Ga and bake up some “Gramcakes” (aka gluten-free pancakes in different flavors—pumpkin, or with chocolate chips, or just plain and buttery and YUMMY—for Little Leighton and Baby Elle). Later this afternoon, MSH and I will head to town for errands. Yep. Just like they did back in them thar Olden Days—when the country folk headed to town for supplies.

Here’s wishing each of Y’all a Sweet Saturday—wherever in this World you are! Stay in those jammies. If you can!

ta-ta for now, Sillies…


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