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Dear Diary – I was sitting on the toilet the other day and something in the floor started snapping. My only thought was “please God, I know I’ve gained weight. Please don’t let it drop through the floor”.

Dear Diary – After all the stressing about jury duty, all the paperwork and waiting and praying to hear if my request for exemption was granted (which it was), I received an email the morning of my summons that my jury duty panel was cancelled.

Dear Diary – On April 27, 2021, I wrote on Facebook:

In the last 26 hours, I’ve driven to the ER, J’s car blew up, my grocery order got lost twice, the sewer backed up, we’re out of milk, and my credit card is blocked.

Fortunately, I posted an update the very next day:

We’re going to survive! The day is almost over! Everyone is healthy, the sewage is fixed (smells bad tho), I showered, and we’re full of leftovers and hashbrowns! Hopefully #3 grocery reservation won’t get lost tomorrow and the locusts will be delayed until next week! Thx for the thoughts, prayers and laughs.

It was quite a couple of days! In comparison, today was downright boring.

I’m so glad.

Dear Diary – After we found the bank in town closed due to covid absences, Eldest son put in a mobile order for pick-up at Tim Horton’s, but the website was so bad, we ended up waiting for it to process for over 10 minutes in the Tim Horton’s parking lot.

On the way home from my folks last Friday, I made a quick pit stop at Tim Horton’s at the halfway mark. FIrst, the bathroom was filthy, with t.p. strewn all over the floors. Then, after three teenage girls told me to go ahead to order, there was no cashier. I waited for over 5 minutes there while the workers visited with the girls behind me. And finally, even if I wanted to order food, there was virtually none in the display case. Rather than getting loud, I just left and went through the drive-thru, which miraculously, was still serving customers.

Tim Horton’s sent me a friendly email to ask about my recent experience. They may regret it.

Dear Diary – The boys and I went for long overdue haircuts last week. Youngest Son’s was the greatest transformation (You’ll have to trust me on that since he won’t allow photos). In fact, it made him look even taller!

I had seriously considered going short, really short! But then I remembered I have a nano-head and short hair just accentuates it, so I went less radical.

I was told I had to post a post-haircut photo.

See…not radical. Boring. This time.

Dear Diary – Eldest Son arrived at Easter with homemade butter tarts and homemade peanut butter bread. He’d been baking with his girlfriend! (aw…) It was light in texture and delicate in flavour, which I did not expect in such a large and strong-smelling loaf.

Last weekend, we tried an alternate recipe for Peanut Butter Bread in my kitchen. And we added chocolate chips. I’ll be sharing more about it on Monday (with the photos I found on my camera after thinking I had accidentally deleted them from my cell phone…because old people and technology…and memory). It goes great with a hot cup of tea!

Dear Diary – A lovely woman at church (whose name I don’t know) keeps passing me fabric she’s found in her closet and no longer needs. The first bag contained cherry red corduroy. I thew it in a dark load in the washer but I tossed in a few extra white undies…You know where this is going.

My undies aren’t white anymore.

At the bottom of the latest bag was a cool piece of black fabric with sparkles. Not thinking, I threw it in the washer on the weekend. Now everything, from t-shirts and pants, to socks and briefs, are covered in gold sparkles. To make it worse, someone left a tissue in his pocket too!

Dear Diary – Someone posted a photo of “Little House on the Prairie” dresses at Target with the caption “I’ve had enough of Target and these blessed be the fruit clothes”. They purchased a couple and then took photos of the guys around the farm in these dresses. They were hilarious! My favourites were the demure guy holding eggs in his apron; he was sporting a lovely bushy beard, and the other was a balding guy climbing the turnstyle. He showed a little ankle (gasp!). I told Eldest Son, “we should totally do that”.

Eldest Son is a good sport. I pulled out the pioneer dress my Grandmother made to commemorate Canada’s centennial. My Mom wore this dress when she volunteered at a working museum. She even wore it when she was pregnant with me; I wore it at the same place, when I was pregnant with Eldest Son.

Since it was raining (and the dress was way too tight over his broad shoulders), we only took one photo.

One is enough!

He showed a little ankle too.

You are a saucy little thing, aren’t you?

Simon Cowell