Six Things That Don't Mean Anything

I am on day sixteen of my self-imposed (again) exile from sweets.  Every night for the past fifteen nights, I have fought the urge to drive into town for a Blizzard.  Tonight is going to be no different.

Randy bought himself a new toy and I haven't seen much of him since mid-August.  I think he's in the garage.  Someone's in the garage - it best be him.

Why is it impossible to keep a butter dish neat and tidy?  I immensely dislike a messy butter dish.

I am on day sixteen of my self-imposed (still) exile from sweets.  Every morning for the past fifteen mornings, I have fought the urge to drive into town to Shipley's Donuts.  This morning was no different.

I found this little cupboard over the summer when Teri, Marcia and I went into town.  I gave it a base coat, then applied my patented method of antiquing.  I stared at it for a while trying to decide what to paint on it.   I am not the least bit unhappy with the way it turned out.

Roxy always seems to know when I wash the paw prints off the windows in the doors.  I sure love my dog.  I love Randy, too.  But I can never see him to tell him.

Have the BEST day ever!

~ Dorothy