The jet boat of summer has motored off the lake.  All that remains is a broad wake of ennui.  That’s on-wee for you non-French readers.  Listlessness, languor, tedium.
I can’t help it.  I have it.  Ingredients beyond my control are being poured into my on-wee cocktail.  Some things I won’t talk about.  Others are pretty typical for ladies of a certain age.  Can you spell h-o-t-f-l-a-s-h-e-s or c-o-l-o-n-o-s-c-o-p-y?  Serenity prayer 911!  Where’s my life jacket?

Know what’s a good antidote for the on-wees?  Jumping.  You heard me….jumping!  When the on-wees are dragging you down, look up.

Yes, I know my stomach is showing.  I have a stomach and it hangs out sometimes…deal with it.  Try to see my joy, people.

Better yet, jump with someone else.  With the Texan.  On a big rock in the sky!

Watch your Sprout jump.

Watch your Sprout-in-law nimbly click his heels.

And the numero uno, the number 1 all-time best cure for the on-wees is…..

Roxy-Doxy on a rock.  Does it for me.
I may be simple, but I’ve got my tried-and-true cures for the on-wees.

Note:  Even though she’s just a wiener with questionable political affiliations, who doesn’t enjoy Olympic curling, and who has a suspect method of selecting her NCAA b-ball tournament bracket, the Texan and I love her.  She’s having surgery for a hernia tomorrow.  I know all will be fine…..but she’s our baby.
Of course…..I’ll let you know how she does.  Thanks for caring.
May you be blessed.  Jumping love to all this week.