Good Morning, My Lovelies!

Firstly, when the shit hit the Internet, the commenters came out in record numbers. It appears you all feel sorry for me. I appreciate the sympathy, but you know what? None of that bothered me--it was all pretty routine. I thought it was really funny, actually. As the MiL kindly pointed out, that's sort of sad. But hey, you gotta have a sense of humor about this shit (that's the last of the shit jokes, I swear) or it'll drag you down, man. So let's move on.

How about some pretty lilacs? This photo was taken a couple of days ago, when it was still sunny and cheerful, unlike today.

I love lilacs. They look pretty, they smell pretty, and they grew in front of our apartment building in Albany. After the first hard and depressing winter for me in upstate New York, the lilacs were the first cheery sign of spring. I always get a little sentimental when the lilacs are blooming.

Since we have at least 6 lilac bushes scattered about the property, the opportunities for waxing nostalgic are many. The ones in this picture are right in front of the house, and the MiL figures they're about 100 years old. You'd think they'd be tired after a century of putting out flowers and leaves every year, but God bless 'em, they just keep on blooming. It's just . . . inspiring, isn't it?

Good Lord, I sound like Oprah. I think the lilac perfume has gotten me high on life. And I hate that phrase. You see what the lilacs do to me?