I've spent a lot of time the past couple of days shoveling. That wicked wind drifted the snow right back over the path I'd cleared to the barn and the hen house within minutes, so every time I went out to check on the animals, I had to shovel all over again. Same thing with the piddle spot for Pooka dog. The poor thing hates the cold so much that she chose to "hold it" all day Tuesday rather than go in the spot I repeatedly cleared for her. Now that the sun is shining again, however, she goes right to her little area to do her business, and then, like the goofy walnut-brain she is, jumps into the nearest drift to sniff out what might be buried beneath. Crazy dog!
My "uniform" the past few days has been made up of many layers - tee, flannel shirt, leggings, jeans, two pairs of socks. To go out shoveling: Don a third pair of socks, fleece lined rain boots, scarf, hat, heavy coat, and the giant fleece-lined wool gloves found in the bottom of the hats/gloves basket. I felt like the abominable snow woman! After my last shoveling session yesterday, my back was screaming, so I decided that was gonna be the last of it for me. I shed my layers, took a nice hot shower and put on the coziest, comfiest outfit I could make from my closet:
Sweatshirt - thrifted
White Stag pants - Walmart
Scarf - thrifted
Born moccasins - eBay
Pooka clung to me with the grip of an eagle! She is not fond of the wood floor in our bedroom. She gingerly creeps to the bed, then crawls underneath the bed (her "safe zone") and peers out. Only recently has she begun to get the courage to come out from under the bed. While I was taking these photos, she actually came out from under the bed and took a few steps toward me, so I picked her up. I guess she was afraid I would drop her on that evil wood floor! She had all four paws dug into my sweatshirt and used all her strength to press as close to Mommy as possible. Poor dog! I carried her out to the living room, which has a carpeted floor, where she relaxed. Then I carried her back in my room to sit in the red chair with her. Poor scared-y cat Pooka was only slightly less afraid in the chair. What a silly little dog!
And now to explain the title of this post....
This fuzzy purple sweatshirt makes me think of muppets. It's super thick, fuzzy and warm and just looks like it belongs on a Sesame Street character! If I were a muppet, my name would be Grammy Monster. I would eat nothing but cookies and live in a laundry basket.
Hmm....I think perhaps I've been cooped up in this house far too long....