Forget Me Not

For some reason I have never known the name of my favourite flower. Weird, I know. It's come up before over the years, when someone will ask what my favourite is and I'd have to say I didn't know. And after said conversation I would always resolve to look it up online as soon as possible so that this question could be resolved. However that never happened. I always forgot. And this cycle would repeat over and over.

Until today. I happened to see a picture online and went 'That's it! That one. I like that one.' And the caption helped me out a bit.

"You Alright?"

Today's post will be more on the shorter side I think. This particular thing has just happened to come up a lot recently so I thought I would clarify as a fun American vs. British terms/phrases quirk.

So. For everyone out there let's just get one thing straight: 

When a British person says: "You alright?" to an American, the American hears "Are you ok? You look like something's wrong, what's wrong?"

Favourite Words: Apricity

Today I don't think I can help but babble a bit about one of my favourite words. Apricity: the warmth of the sun in winter. Sadly it isn't used too often but I stumbled across it rather recently and it has been my current favorite word since.

(Not my image. Found on Pinterest.)

It seemed especially appropriate as I happened to wake up to beautiful snowflakes falling outside my window the other morning. I got to walk to my class as they fell on and around me and absolutely loved every second of it despite the cold. Because snow makes the cold worth it at the point, in my opinion. 

Plus, I really like feeling like I'm somehow in a snow globe with all the little glitters floating and swirling around me like little silver ashes.

Coffee & the Thoughts

So today I'm just thinking out loud. I might consider this "being a writer" topic a little bit but I guess I'll talk about coffee shops first and then bring in the "writer" aspect second.

First, it kind of goes without saying that I am a fan of coffee, so the fact that there seems to be a coffee shop on the corner of every other street that I pass is not something I'm going to complain about. I haven't been in too many yet, but the few I've visited have no shortage of character. Some are always full of people who stand in lines that wind around wooden tables and there's the thick hot scent of coffee and machines constantly buzzing behind the counter.