Purely hypothetical questions….

Let’s just say that you’re kind of not a winter person. Like so much not a winter person that when it’s winter you go around all grumbly like when the temperature dares to depart the lovely regions of 50 and above and you want to just start beating INanimate objects with a tire iron. I SAID INANIMATE OBJECTS, people. Nobody’s getting beaten with a tire iron around here. There are some objects around the house that are curiously-shaped now, but all family members including those of the canine persuasion are wholly intact and quite healthy. Anyway, like I said this person I know is not a winter person and, in fact, HATES winter and all things related to winter with the fire of a gatrillion suns. If said winter-hating person, when faced with yet another insanely unfair sky pissing more white matter, spent the day doing the following things, would that person need to be seen by a mental health professional?

• Moving forlornly from one window to another slowly in order to give the scene each will display time to NOT show a wintry hell,

• Streaking around the house for a full ten minutes while crying uncontrollably because all the long johns ever created in the history of humankind are inexplicably (come on, crazy woman, you wore them and then forgot to wash them during that glorious warm weather respite and THAT is why they are dirty you mad, mad woman) dirty and unavailable to wrap you in their warm and comforting embrace,

• Staring off into the distance and counting the days until there must be some sort of warm weather stretch that will restore you to normalcy because you have become batshit crazy with these continuing bouts of snow,

• Letting the dog out in the hysterical (not funny hysterical – crazy hysterical) hope of engaging in frolicking, winter fun. Realizing two minutes later that you can’t feel your damn fingers and wishing you could so you could raise one in particular in grandiose fashion to the snow that continues to fall,

• Fixing yourself a cup of coffee to warm up because you think you are cold. It’s warm inside, but you look outside and assume that you are cold. Therefore, coffee. But you aren’t really cold, so you pretty quickly misplace the coffee. You get pissed because it would at least taste good. You fix another and misplace that one, too. You start stomping around the kitchen while fixing another stupid cup of coffee. All I want is a damn cup of coffee. The weather sucks so stupid bad and all I’m asking for is a cup of coffee. Is that too much to ask for? Well? Is it? And you fix that third cup. And you see the two other stupid cups of coffee, still steaming, on the counter as you are getting ready to place your third down next to them. And they seem to mock you, and you promise each of those stupid cups of coffee that you will drink them right down. Right the hell down. So they can just knock it off with their caffeinated smugness. The rest of the day probably wouldn’t have gone off the rails quite as much if you had stopped at the first cup of coffee.

The windows are open, the birds are singing (outside!) and my heart is full.

Andrew Freiden, you are now officially forgiven for that awful bout of crappy weather! What? Well, of course I don’t blame you, a local weatherman, for creating the unseasonably cold, wet and often snowy weather we’ve been having in the recent past. That would be ridiculous. Heh heh. Except I kinda do. I would find myself sitting there waiting for your forecast. Watching you all cute and perky as you’d begin to chat about what we’d have in store for us, then you’d deliver news of an approaching snowstorm in MARCH for the love of all that is sane and good! TWICE!!! (I think it was actually three times, but I can’t even bear to type it because even now it still seems unbearable. The puppy had to put her nether regions in that cold, wet stuff to do her business. Oh, the humanity! Oops…. Oh, the caninity!) And it was like a punch to the gut each time. From you. So, yeah, forgive me for feeling a little grumpy with you, sir. And. Wait. This is beginning to feel combative suddenly. The birds are chirping (outside where they belong!), and I’m feeling peaceful. And there is nothing finer than having the windows open and smelling the great outdoors inside my house where I can enjoy the conveniences of indoor plumbing. (Obviously, I’m not a big camper. I’d camp de-testosteroned Willie-style.) Anyway, I’m loving you now, Mr. Tall, Suited Weatherman. So, carry on with your day, sir.

A message from Batdog


To the person in charge of weather,
Did you see this? She wrote that a few days ago and I heard someone say snow might be coming! SNOW! Look, she’s wordy. I know it. It’s my personal cross to bear. Getting a one-word command out of her is like pulling teeth. But that post was actually not, so you couldn’t have missed our plea. Let’s get on this. I like to fetch Frisbees and I can’t do that in rain or snow. You disappoint me.


Enough with this stupid weather!

I’m so sick of winter! This March has been worse than usual because it has tempted us with the brief periods of glorious warmth and then stomped all over our spirit with the unending days of rain and snow, GAH! And could we have picked a worse year to get a puppy? I feel like last year’s March was well-behaved with normal temperatures and proper precipitation. But this year, Lexi and I are looking out the window in disgust. Poor pup needs her exercise! And that manipulative face of hers — it’s not good. I mean, look at it, people.


I’m powerless to resist it. This picture was taken on a pretty day. Yesterday was NOT a pretty day. But she looked at me with that face. And we played outside most of the day anyway.