Bertie is now known as Plow Boy. For a dog that has never seen the snow, he is loving it. He plows through the chest-deep snow, full of joy. The Gazelle (Lovey) is right behind him, although she needs to be wearing her fleece jacket. In a distant third is The Pepperoni. I'll give him credit - he chugs right through snow that is up and over his back. Until he's had enough, that is. Then he stops, turns a mournful (and slightly accusing) eye to me, lifts a paw which shakes violently, and waits for me to trudge out and pick him up. I. cannot. resist.
I was happy to discover that the snow was of the dry, fluffy type as I shoveled my way through my quarter mile paths. Since it was snowing heavily all day, I fed the sheep in the barn. The chickens refused to come out and the ducks were sorry they did. I shoveled enough outside of the front door to make sure I could open it, then hunkered down for the day. I had a loose plan of knitting, knitting and more knitting, but then The Chorus started - "Really? And with all those other things that you keep putting off still waiting for your attention?"
I am nothing, if not my mother's daughter - I fold under guilt quite easily. While I did allow myself some knitting time - as well as diving into a new library book - I also checked a few niggling things off of my inside list:
Polishing the brown shoes/boots (plus a quick fix to my black boots)
(No photo - I figured the pics of shoes and a dirty oven were enough excitement for today)
I also performed triage on Bertie's favorite toy - for the third time; mended my favorite flannel shirt; laundered the alternate sofa cover; vacuumed and swept. All in all, it was a very satisfying day 'off'.