A few inches even.
And then there was ice.
Then our infrastructure completely collapsed and everyone went sledding.
Well, the collapse of the infrastructure was a bit of an exaggeration... BUT I did try to go see a matinee movie on Saturday and the damn place was closed. CLOSED! Madness.
So we went to a little restaurant nearby on the off chance that it might be open- and lo and behold it was. Now I ask you. A tiny, locally-owned restaurant has enough supplies and employees who can get to work and bring out bread, make gumbo and pour large glasses of wine, but a ginormous movie theater - coughRegalCinemasHollywood27cough - can't scrounge up one person to turn on a projector and pour a Diet Coke? I mean, we even had our own cookies to smuggle in so we wouldn't have bothered them for snacks. Mercy.
Needless to say, after my wine and gumbo detour at 1:00 in the afternoon, I went home and was completely useless for the rest of the day. I did play with the dogs out in the snow. Elsie will root around in the snow. Then roll in the snow. Then run at top speed, stop short and shower Oliver in giant spray of snow. Oliver, however, will prance in the snow because his paws are cold. Then he will fling himself into the air and yelp when Elsie sprays him with snow. Then he will come and try to sit on my feet until I let him go back inside. Good times.
2. Blanche DuBois in Footie Pajamas
My niece started talking a lot more around Thanksgiving / Christmas. Cute little toddler-talk:
In the last couple of weeks though she's started stringing together more words but with a much more exaggerated Southern accent. Now, everyone in my family would sound like we have accents to anyone living anywhere else in the world, but compared to other Southerners, our accents are extremely mild. Somehow though (we think it must be one of her classmates or teachers) she's picked up this crazy drawl. It's like she's in some sort of Montessori preschool production of Streetcar:
Thee-uhs Du-ugh. My-y dawg. (This is Doug. My dog.)
Puh-lay bawl? (Play ball?)
I babysat the other night and couldn't stop laughing. Totally hilarious.
3. Potato Bandit
Elsie is a bit of a thief. It's likely the herding dog in her. She mostly likes to steal socks or dish towels and usually ferrets them out through the dog door and then drops them into one of the holes in the yard. You know when she's stolen something because she tries not to be obvious and run through the house - but she's way too excited to be nonchalant and walk normally - so she does this quick little walk with tiny steps and rapid clicking of her toenails on the hardwood floors. Guests are often amazed when I have my back to her as she comes trotting through the living room, sock-in-mouth, and I loudly say "Elsie. Drop it." without ever turning around.
On Sunday I got up and made roasted red potatoes for a brunch later that morning. I came back from brunch and was talking to my mother on the phone when I heard an odd crunching noise coming from the bedroom. I went to check and there was Elsie, sprawled out on the floor with a raw red potato. She grasped it in her paws and nibbled it with her front teeth, then would ponder it briefly, turn it with her paws and continue nibbling. She finally noticed me staring at her, picked the potato up in her mouth and quickly trotted it outside, dropped it in a secure location and then came back in. I decided it wasn't worth putting on shoes and a coat to go out in the cold and chase down a half-eaten raw potato. I also reasoned that it couldn't have tasted all that great and therefore she wouldn't do it again.
Later that night I heard the same crunching noise and damn if she didn't have another whole potato. I went to the kitchen to see if she'd pulled the bag off the kitchen island and onto the floor, but the whole bag was gone. I turned on the outside light in the back and looked out into the snow-covered yard for signs of a mesh bag of red potatoes, but I didn't see anything. Not knowing how good it was for a 35-pound dog to eat at least part of two raw potatoes, I decided to take that one from her. She looked at me strangely, got up, trotted out the door and came back 30 seconds later with another brand new potato. Apparently there's a stash. And it's likely hidden in a hole under several socks and a dish towel. I took that one from her too and I'm going to check today and see if it's okay for her to eat raw potatoes. If so, I'll be tossing part of one into her bowl every now and then since she seems to enjoy it and it keeps her occupied for several minutes. Every time I think that dog can't get any more bizarre, she seems to find a way.