Goin' to the dogs...

You know someone loves their dog when you see them walking them in 32 degree weather with a windchill of 12 wearing an overcoat over thin flannel pajamas.   You know it's even worse when it's a married couple walking two fat, seriously over-indulged dogs wearing overcoats over thin flannel pajamas, and he's wearing furred slippers and a maroon ski hat with a bright day-glo orange ball on top that says, "Love me, love my pinata" (whatever the hell THAT means), and she's wearing clogs with no socks.  I watched this odd little procession, wincing in sympathy when that wind came barrelling down the street and you could just SEE the shudders and shivers moving down their bodies.  Did the dogs care?  NO!!!  One very, VERY fat Bassett Hound, so fat his stomach dragged the ground, and a very roly-poly Rat Terrier led their freezing owners on a leisurely perambulation through freezing temperatures as they sniffed and dawdled along the side of the road, leaving deposits in various front yards, until they waddled around the corner.  

Somehow, if it had been me, I would have opened the back door, pointed to the yard, and said, "There ya go, Fido. You are wearing a fur coat, I'm not.  You need to do your business, there you are.  A whole swath of green.  Go for it."  I would not have gotten out the leash and harness, thrown a coat over my pajamas, found entirely inappropriate shoes to put on my bare feet, and gone for a walk in the freezing weather.  If I was doing it for exercise, maybe, but then I would have dressed appropriately.  You know, worn something WARM.  Like... CLOTHES!  Though I have to tell you, the "love me, love my pinata," hat is entertaining me something fierce.  I'm trying to figure out just where one would buy a hat that says that.  And under what circumstances would wearing something that SAYS that be appropriate?  I mean, come on, I grew up in Houston in the BARRIO, fer gossakes, and I have a feeling that NONE of the people I grew up with, nor would my brother-in-law, have ANY clue what that means.  It just sounds so... so...WHITE BREAD!!!

In other exciting news, I got a phone call from chanteur_dombre, and we talked for nearly four hours.  Mind-boggling, I have to tell you, and more fun than a box full of wiggly puppies!  Terrifying, isn't it?  Two talkative women, an Aussie, and a Texan, and a eight hour calling card!  And both with a LOT to say!!  She was visiting a friend in California and took advantage of the proximity for a chat.  It was GREAT!  Every time I slipped and drawled, or said "y'all," she'd make me go back and say it again, and I'd start laughing.  She even got to talk to the Impossible Son!  I'm sad to say that he has finally managed to be able to say, "Professor McGonagall," so it doesn't come out "McGollygall," or "Micklelogigall" anymore, so she didn't get to hear that.  But she did get to hear him try yet again to say his kindergarten teacher's name, which still comes out, "Snair-Nose."  

Well, I'm going back to bed.  I have a vicious headache which I am trying to ignore.  I figure if I keep ignoring it, it will get bored with me and finally decide to go pester someone else.  It's not quite back to head-shaving proportions, though the Husbandly One took the precaution of hiding all the scissors and the buzz-cutter before he left for work this morning (darn it).  Yes, I know, I know, shaving my head won't make it better, but the little primitive reptile in me is just utterly convinced that if I could just get all this heavy hair off my scalp, my head would feel EVER so much BETTER!!

Can you tell Auntie is a bit cranky?  Oh, for a scalp massage!!!