We’re out at the farm this weekend and it’s all snowy and blowy and stuff.
I’m sitting here with three dogs who are currently melting on the rug because we just finished a rousing game of Shovelful of Snow TO THE FACE, a supremely fun wintertime activity, and Gabe who is playing with his tablet, his laptop, and the TV because he is just so excited that there’s internet in the house.
I haven’t lost any chickens, though there’s always a chance there will be a yeti attack in the night.
Diego the horse, the one who made out with me all last summer, is being a total jerk and pretending he doesn’t even know me and Buttercup, the donkey, is covered in ice because someone keeps kicking her out of the barn (I’m looking at you, Llama Face)
I feel very sorry for everyone who has to deal with the snow but isn’t doing it here (which means, everyone who is not Gabe, the three melting dogs and me) because this is the prime blizzardy place to be. There are scads of tea options, there are buckets o’ soup, and there are big windows everywhere so we can watch the snow fly by while staying warm. And melting all over the rug.
Happy snowy day to all of you from the comfort and warmth of the farm. Sorry you can’t be me.