shoebox_dw: (little mermaid)

I have always loved November. I love all the months of change, really; but there is something about November - the wind and the wild and the wet - that makes rising to the challenge of living a
particularly gallant endeavour.

That said...I will concede that sometimes, after an especially tactless battle, there's no shame in just sitting indoors and watching the challenge swirl past your window for awhile. After all, even the Knights of the Round Table must've paused on occasion to rest the horses.

So thusly here I sit. Cuddled contentedly into a living room that is mine-all-mine at last after last weekend's switchover - Shoemom having finally decided, in the face of six more weeks of Monday Night Football, that retreating to a TV-less space is worth putting up with my stuffies scattered around the public areas. Computer desk over here, cable TV over there, books on the far wall, cats gamboling on the futon; I feel rather like a spoiled yuppie offspring in her playpen, it's all about stimulating the growing mind.
(Meanwhile, I hasten to add, Shoemom is enjoying her own new, determinedly un-stimulating space hugely. For one thing, she hates the colour I chose for the walls, so this is Blank Slate Central for her, design-wise.)

In short, things are so cozy - and my ego purring so loudly - the only thing on my mind is sharing the photos from our last bliss-centric day. Return with me now to the much more tactful beguilements of an October Saturday in Niagara.
Yes...we had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun. But we didn't, y'know, die or anything.

Read (and see) more... )
shoebox_dw: (garfield camera)
So Shoemom and I spent this gorgeous afternoon doing one of our favourite gorgeous-weekend-afternoon things: picking a direction and driving in it.

When we're just feeling a little restless and want a change of scene this is usually north, via Aurora and Newmarket; when we merely want to coo over the wonders of nature and maybe pick a few berries, it's east, through Burlington and Milton. When we really, truly feel the need to replenish our souls and sooth our savage breasts...we head out over the Escarpment, to the sprawling rural community of Pelham, where Shoemom was born and raised on a fruit farm.

As yours truly is fresh off experiencing the worst of modern civilization, in the shape of office superiors whose knowledge of what you actually do is in the direct obverse to how free they feel to criticize you...we opted this aft for c), without hesitation.

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