I didn't stop shopping until I was starting to actually limp and then I drug my huge, swollen tender dogs to the pickup and called it a day. They whimpered all the way home, “I hope you’re happy. Walking and standing around on cement floors for hours and all you have to show for it is a picture frame?! I hope you’re proud of yourself. After all we do for you...” Whimper, sniff……
I didn’t sleep well that night, waking frequently to the burning and throbbing of my feet. I dreamed that Al Gore had traced Global Warming right to my size 11s.
The next morning I added insult to injury by walking on the treadmill. Imagine the yelping and howling as my poor feet carried 300 pounds of blubber for 30 minutes with no destination. “What?! We’re still here? Half an hour of pounding and we’re still here??”
The dogs were BARKIN’, Baby! What my feet didn’t know, though, was that while I was torturing them on the treadmill, I was hatching a stellar idea.
Before I settled at my desk for the morning, I scooped snow from a snow drift in my backyard and filled a dish pan. I put the whole shebang inside a garbage bag, put on socks and invited my dogs to hop in and settle onto the cool decadence. Oh yea….the dogs were smiling then.
Before I settled at my desk for the morning, I scooped snow from a snow drift in my backyard and filled a dish pan. I put the whole shebang inside a garbage bag, put on socks and invited my dogs to hop in and settle onto the cool decadence. Oh yea….the dogs were smiling then.
My last thought before falling asleep last night was, “Oh goody, I get to do the snow-in-the-dish-pan thing again tomorrow!” My life is quite full, isn’t it?
The only thing that is somewhat spoiling my bliss is the awareness that spring will come. Where will I get the icy answer to my dreams then? Anyone know of a used snow cone machine I can get for cheap?
What's that? I could use that piggy scoop for ice cream? You don't say. Hmmm. I'll have to try that sometime.
5 comments:
Your first paragraph had me hooked- loved the 'bean' reference!
You know I was there when you were called by that bean, Twig. We were snapping beans on Grandma's porch and before I knew it, you had a bean in your nose. And you were only about 15 years old!!
I'm imagining your 15 year old sister sticking a bean in her nose. PLEASE tell me she was FIVE! Love the picture of your cooling dogs and piggie scoop. Great visuals.
OK, maybe she wasn't 15. I bet she was nine. She was definitely old enough to know better. She probably did it for a laugh, but then couldn't get it out. Knowing our parents weren't going to be happy with a beanectomy, I said, "Blow!" She blew with gusto, and the bean went flying. I sort of saved her life with my quick thinking. She owes me.
Ahhh the younger sister forever indebted to her wise big sister! I'm sure she is always doing wonderful and thoughtful things for you because you saved her life. Well, maybe saving her life is a bit of an exaggeration. At a minimum, you saved her from having a sprouted pole bean using her hair for a trellis. Either way, she is indebted. :-)
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