Friday briefs: Squash, cinnamon rolls, and Instagram weirdos

Many successful gardeners — my daughter Brianna included — recently began seeing the bountiful fruits (and veggies) of their spring and summer labors, picking, pulling and happily harvesting this and that from their yards.

I'm not a successful gardener. I am, though, happily awaiting the right size and right time to pull and prepare the two — count 'em, two! — squash I did manage to grow in my woebegone garden of sorts.

zucchini and summer squash

Woot! I'm celebrating the wee bit of success for this black-thumbed gardener wannabe. (Truth be told: I'm pretty sure they grew only because Brianna started them for me at her house then passed along pots with the babies for me to plant and finish the job.)


It has never resonated with me when friends (and strangers and social media connections) mention eating entire containers of ice cream or cookies or bags and boxes of chocolates all on their own, being literally unable to stop themselves. Because I'm not all that in love with sweets, I've never really gotten how one can lose self control in such a manner.

I made cinnamon rolls with cream cheese icing for breakfast last Sunday... and now I get it. Come Monday morning, facing more than half a baking dish remaining of the sweet and gooey goodness, I ate one. Then another. Then another. I couldn't stop myself. And I hadn't even heated them up. They were straight from the refrigerator, cold with hardened icing. And absolutely irresistible.

Yep, such things now resonate with me because I have found my food foible: homemade cinnamon rolls. Which I should never be left alone with... or I literally won't be able to stop myself. (No photo for this one; I ate the evidence.)


What in the world is going on with all the men on Instagram of late? In the past month, I've had dozens and dozens of men follow me on there. A couple every day. They're all different ages, different occupations, yet all seem like weirdos, following hundreds and hundreds more folks than they have following them. Most have numbers after their profile names, profile notes on how wonderful (and "godly" or "family oriented," for heavens sake) they are, and very few pictures posted... though the photos they do post seem the stuff of dating services.

I've started blocking each and every one of them as they follow me. Close to fifty now. A small sampling (though I doubt these photos — and names — are real):

instagram men

There must be a men's group somewhere in which the members have decided Instagram is the go-to place to pick up women on the sly (are they married?). They've appeared on the social network in droves, sharing their smarmy profiles, seemingly casting wide nets in hopes of swooping up swooning — and unsuspecting — women. Or something like that.

If you're seeing the same weirdo phenomenon with your Instagram account, I highly recommend you block them, too. Their swarming of the site is suspicious. And weird.


I finished reviving my backyard carousel horse yesterday. James and I started the project together but didn't finish (darn rainy days!) before he went back to school. So I completed the task yesterday... and am quite happy with the results — while keeping in my mind my "better done than perfect" mantra.

carousel horse yard art

carousel horse yard art


Happy Friday, everyone! And a happy weekend to you, too!