WOW! That expression that 'time flies when you're having fun' is true!...In fact, it flies even when you're not having so much fun. Or is that just for me?! ^_^
Anyway! I don't have much to talk about today...except things I'm sure you could do without me talking about! LOL...Rain...my aching body...my lack of sleep....crazy allergies....etc! Fun times in the Wug household! NOT!! :-]
There's always good news on Fridays though, because it's 'Virtual Friday Date Night' time! :-) And no...I don't know where we're going today....YET! ^_^ Sometimes hubby makes me figure it out with music, food, or some kind of gift. I haven't eaten, heard, or seen anything so far...but it's early! I'll figure it out. Oh Yeah! I'll FIGURE IT OUT!! LOL
There is one other thing I wanna talk about...the lovely treasury that the items you're looking at came from!...
It was curated by Emel...
Pretty, pretty, right?!! :-) If you click on the above treasury, you can go over and check out some of the other items too! :-) ... This is my bag that was included :-) ...
Okay June....what else?......I got nothing else! LOL I'm gonna find me a bench wherever hubby and I land tonight, and just ponder. Yeah, yeah. That'll work! ^_^ Have a good day, Everybody...and a good weekend too! :-]
Benches
Wooden, with an indent.
Sturdy, aged by the sun.
A place to rest when you are tired.
A stop when you are on the run.
A slatted back, for resting shoulders,
and cemented to the ground.
A wrought-iron rusted swirly arm-rest,
and a place to put bags down.
A place for you to catch a bus,
or to feed a hungry squirrel.
Where good friends can stop and chat
about the big news of the world.
Alone and beaten by the weather,
chipping paint, long past brand new.
Almost like some people we know,
who are inconspicuous too.
So reliably unnoticed,
all the benches that we pass.
Sitting there, just waiting for us,
if we too run out of gas.
Wooden, with an indent.
Sturdy, aged by the sun.
A place to rest when you are tired.
A stop when you are on the run.
A slatted back, for resting shoulders,
and cemented to the ground.
A wrought-iron rusted swirly arm-rest,
and a place to put bags down.
A place for you to catch a bus,
or to feed a hungry squirrel.
Where good friends can stop and chat
about the big news of the world.
Alone and beaten by the weather,
chipping paint, long past brand new.
Almost like some people we know,
who are inconspicuous too.
So reliably unnoticed,
all the benches that we pass.
Sitting there, just waiting for us,
if we too run out of gas.
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