It's here. The season of losing accessories is upon us. It already flurried a few times in November, but here marks the first day of sticking snowfall. The kind that required me to wear boots to work. Among other things, this means that I will start losing things. Like scarves, gloves, earmuffs, hats, and the jewelry I remove to accommodate them. Over the years I've discovered that the most common time for the losing to occur is while getting out of a car. During the ride I absentmindedly remove the stifling stuff and place it on my lap. I soon forget all about it, and when I go to get out of the car, the soon-to-be-missing item drops to the ground next to the car, never to be seen or heard from again. The second most common loss location is a pub. This should require no further explanation.
On a brighter note, this is also the time of the season for a happy dingo. This morning Foo was so damn excited to feel the snow under his paws it made me smile. I liken it to the kid who realizes this means he doesn't have to go to school and gets to sled all day instead. That's what it meant to me as a kid in NC-where-there-are-no-plows, anyway. Only Foo doesn't get to avoid school, nor does he enjoy sledding (lacks the requisite coordination and bravery). Best I can figure, the little guy's so darn pleased because snow turns the entire earth's surface as he knows it into a potential place to pee. Who knows why this is so appealing, but oh is it ever. Long after there's not a drop of yellow left in him to stain the pretty white snow, he keeps on lifting that furry little turkey leg. I could probably learn a thing or two from his persistence.
The Lost Glove lives here.
On a brighter note, this is also the time of the season for a happy dingo. This morning Foo was so damn excited to feel the snow under his paws it made me smile. I liken it to the kid who realizes this means he doesn't have to go to school and gets to sled all day instead. That's what it meant to me as a kid in NC-where-there-are-no-plows, anyway. Only Foo doesn't get to avoid school, nor does he enjoy sledding (lacks the requisite coordination and bravery). Best I can figure, the little guy's so darn pleased because snow turns the entire earth's surface as he knows it into a potential place to pee. Who knows why this is so appealing, but oh is it ever. Long after there's not a drop of yellow left in him to stain the pretty white snow, he keeps on lifting that furry little turkey leg. I could probably learn a thing or two from his persistence.
The Lost Glove lives here.
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