Chilly Days

I prefer the cold. Summer means sweat, sweat means rashes no matter how careful one is, and who needs that? Winter is my time, despite dry-cracking skin and the persistent shivers.

Even so, it was a bit ridiculous this morning. I had to leave the warm nest of the bed and engage on another shivery day, and I would have loved to roll out of the covers and into some proper layers, but Sir Boxnoggin decided he would be Helpful and Aid Me in My Dressing. The way he chose to do this, of course, was by…sitting on everything I reached for.

I love this dog. His idea of help, though, often treads the edge of “no help at all, thanks.”

The small birds have found the finch feeder; it seems to be the only type of seed the squirrels won’t steal, probably because they have the sunflower-seed holder to pillage pretty much at will. They’re stocking up for the snow supposedly coming down the pike. There is much singing, twittering, hopping, and expressions both of delight and of menace. (“STAY AWAY FROM MY SEEDS, PHIL, OR I SWEAR I WILL END YOU.”)

Miss B, of course, as an Elderly Gentlecanine, prefers to spend very chilly days sprawled on her Fancy Dog Bed in my office, conveniently located near the heater. Some days she will even nudge me with her snout and sigh until I get the idea and turn said heater on. Boxnoggin is on the loveseat in the living room, snuggling into several knitted lap robes and watching the street with much interest. The next time a car (or, God forbid, a person walking dogs) appears, he will ALERT THE WHOLE HOUSE AT HIGH VOLUME BORK BORK BORK.

In all of this I have to work, and also have to get French toast shopping (milk, bread, eggs, in case we’re snowed in) done today before the forecasted precipitation breaks and you can’t pay me to step outside. Plus there’s copyedits to turn around by the fifteenth.

Seven. Hundred. Fifty. Pages. Of copyedits. 8.5”X11” pages, too, not book pages. Gods have mercy upon me, for publishing has none.

…and there goes Boxnoggin, screaming that someone is upon his street and I am required to come witness whatever has his dog-knickers in a twist, not to mention tuck him back into all the lap robes when he is soothed. See you around, folks.

A Dusting to Halt

This is the amount of snow it takes to close down school for the day. Mostly because the buses have to get out before dawn and the roads were ice-coated; who needs parents breathing down their nape because a bus went a little wonky? Of course, there are lots of transplants screaming “this ain’t snow, why, back home we have to dig our way out of the garage on the regular,” as if the Pacific Northwest is somehow the same as Minnesota. *eyeroll*

It’s supposed to be subzero tonight, which means the road will be another icy hellscape early tomorrow. But for today, we have a lot of hot cocoa, a lot of reading, and a lot of chunky sweaters and lap-blankets, not to mention dogs who have suddenly rediscovered humans have body heat too.

Poor Boxnoggin; this appears to be the first time he’s seen this White Coat of Death on everything, and he keeps giving me looks like Mum, make this stop, why are you doing this? He picks up each paw EXTRA high and gives it a shake when he’s forced to walk outside, and outright refuses to get near the gate because that means walkies and walkies mean OMG COLD ON MY WIDDLE FEETSIES.

Miss B, of course, is built for all weathers, but she’s old now, and quite content to stay inside where it’s warm and soft. Just because she can doesn’t mean she will wander outside more than the bare necessary. Currently she has moved from behind my chair to the Big Spacious Fancy Dogge Bedde near the heater, and is likely to remain there for as long as possible.

I wish you warmth and relaxation today, my friends. Sadly, I cannot take a day off, for my office is just down the hall from my bedroom, and going into work does not require anything more dangerous than tripping over a few dog toys and my own pre-caffeinated feet. There’s a short story to revise and the initial go-through on CEs for The Maiden’s Blade to cross off my list today. No rest for the weary or the wicked, but if I get those things done I might settle on the couch with tea and both dogs, and just watch the hill freeze solid.

Over and out.