Today’s post is a writing challenge. This is how it works: participating bloggers picked 4 – 6 words or short phrases for someone else to craft into a post. All words must be used at least once, and all the posts will be unique as each writer has received their own set of words. That’s the challenge, here’s a fun twist; no one who’s participating knows who got their words and in what direction the writer will take them. Until now.
My words are:
They were submitted by: Spatulas on Parade - Thank you, Dawn!
As I'm typing this, I'm sitting at the hairdresser's with my grumpy pre-teen who does not want a haircut. He also does not want to wash his hair. He also plays hockey and wears a helmet, so we have a bit of a situation. Unfortunately it is my monkey and my circus.
As for me, I'm sitting here in my new flannel shirt. Colin (he was back to his old happy self after the haircut, and doesn't he look handsome?)
|Before / After|
Hubby and son kinda laughed at me when they saw my new shirt. They were joking "you look like a Walkers shortbread", hinting at my height.
I don't care. It makes me feel like fall has finally arrived, even though the leaves on the trees are still pretty green around here.
In Paris, the Indian Summer (is it called that way everywhere or only in New England states?) is a little more progressed. This street (I believe it's Avenue Winston Churchill, I didn't pay attention to the street sign) is turning off Champs-Elysées, so it's downright amazing that there are so many trees literally in the middle of this big city.
Considering Paris is so close to where we live (from our house to our hotel it's roughly a five hours' trip by bus, train and Métro) we never go there. Well, I'll have to blog about the reasons.
Edit: I just finished, you may read about it here. The sights would certainly demand more frequent visits.
Back to my flannel shirt. It's not only a piece of clothing, it's also a compromise.
I came across this lumberjack cake tutorial:
Of course I was intrigued. How cool is that? I feel, however, that I don't have it in me to actually make it. So I'll just wear my flannel shirt and think of all the work (and calories) I have saved.
Plus I can daydream about being somewhere in a Canadian log house, lighting a crackling fire and slurping hot cocoa. On the radio there is some guitar country music playing.
|Photo by Luca Bravo on Unsplash|
Are you a sucker for this kind of cozy atmosphere as well? Let me know down below.