Ok, ok, ok, so the weathermen have gotten back at me for my snarky blog post yesterday by working their hoodoo magic and making it snow buckets. So many buckets, in fact, that I can no longer find Doc’s water bucket outside because it’s buried in so much snow.

Apparently, a convergence convention happened last night and now we’re all paying the price. It’s been snowing steadily all day and it’s safe to say that, unless there’s a sudden heat wave, Wes and I will be staying in for awhile.

If I were a guessing woman, I would say that so far there are about 5-6 inches of snow on the ground. Outside, I can hear children shrieking and laughing with delight, and it makes me smile to see their parents pulling them around on sleds. Everything I can see is covered in the nice snow, the kind that’s soft, powdery, and makes muffled crunching noises when you walk on it.

Doc has gone absolutely bonkers for the snow. I tried to snap some pictures of him but he was having too much fun to stand still for his mother. We went outside just a few minutes ago and Doc stepped one paw in the snow, watched it promptly disappear, and then went tearing off across the yard so fast he barely even left tracks.

He then stopped, stuck his whole head down in the snow like an exceptionally waggly ostrich, and then yanked it back up again, showering us both with the cold stuff. He looked so pleased with himself, face covered in snow notwithstanding, that I couldn’t help but laugh. He may be the most whimsically silly dog in the world. I have no idea what he was trying to accomplish but it would appear that he’s satisfied with his efforts.

I’m a bit sad about the timing of this whole thing, though. What with staying home from work yesterday because of the non-existent snow, and then staying home today and tomorrow, the last week before my holiday break is woefully short. I had so many projects that are now just going to have to wait until next year!

Oh well. At least Wes and I are both safe, the puppy’s well-behaved enough that he’s a pleasure to hang out with all day, and our house is warm and cozy. We currently own no vehicles that are wrapped around trees, and neither of us is stuck sleeping at work because we can’t get home. All in all, it would appear that there’s not much to complain about.

The only cause for concern is running out of food. At some point this weekend I’m going to have to go grocery shopping. When that time comes, I suppose I can just rig up a sled and have Doc pull me to Safeway. He may have a bum leg, but the dog can cut through snow like nobody’s business.

This post will have to be kept short, because alas it is late, I am sleepy, and no one ever said in so many words that a blog post absolutely had to be 600+ words. The reason I’m so sleepy and blogging so late is that Wes and I just got home from celebrating our third anniversary with dinner at the Cheesecake Factory! See? The evidence is up there on the left *point point*

If this cheesecake weren’t perishable, and I were still single, it would run a serious race against Wes for my affections. I was about four forkfuls shy of taking this bad-boy home to meet my parents. It’s the Adam’s peanut butter ripple blah-blah-forty-word-long-name cheesecake and it was everything I was hoping it would be.

The frosting was peanut butter, it was packed full to bursting with all kinds of interesting tastes and textures. Unfortunately, I was so full from dinner that I only made it through about five bites before I had to throw in the napkin and request a box. You know food is either supremely excellent or hilariously awful, though, when I’m compelled to photograph it so I have proof that it existed before going straight to my bowl full of jelly.

The cold here has yet to abate, so Doc continues to spend an inordinate amount of time scrunched up in his crate. He managed to scoot it halfway across the room today (he was nearly to the other end of the room, which contains a bookcase, so I’m assuming he was scooting toward some new reading material) and I could swear he’s taking correspondance courses whilst encased in his plastic palace.

The reason you see my big, tough, 85lb. dog wearing a cheery red scarf is that, when I came home wearing said scarf, Doc went bananas and tried to eat it (he gets very excited when he discovers new things he can fit into his mouth). For some reason, this seemed to me to be a good reason to make him wear it and hence we have this picture. Two treats and one command later, we have an adorable picture of my dog wearing a scarf. You tell me: Was it worth it?