Paid Time Off Is Hard Work

I've diligently checked the current, extended and long-range forecasts for several days now and things are not looking good. No snow days have been forecasted for the remainder of October. Or for the entire month of November!

I think my co-workers would agree with me that a snow day would be awesome right about now. My snow dance, however many times I perform it, seems to have no bearing on the weather. No snow equals school, or work, for me.

If snow days are out of the question, then what? The answer came to me quickly. Holidays!

Tomorrow is October 24. Tomorrow is also National Bologna Day. Now THAT'S a holiday worth celebrating! That's also short notice. My boss might not be so understanding of my absence.

Monday is Navy Day. Tuesday is Plush Animal Lover's Day. Wednesday is National Frankenstein Day. Thursday is National Candy Corn Day and Friday, of course, is Halloween.

I do have a plush skunk. How can I properly celebrate Plush Animal Lover's Day if I'm at work? If I fail to show up at work Tuesday, my boss and students will surely understand...

While it may be too late for October, I'm hard at work on a plan for November.

While we may have two days off for Thanksgiving in November, that may not be enough. I've started a petition to make World Peace Day a paid holiday like Christmas or Memorial Day. That would free us all up for a mental health day on November 17th.

I won't even touch December for obvious reasons. January and February generally usher in some decent school altering weather, snow dance or not!

And then there's March. There will be some big changes come March. Those changes will be dependent upon my clout as a celebrity, as well as whether or not my paperwork is approved, of course. I'm hoping to hear from President Obama any day now.

He should be signing off on my paperwork to make March 12 an official, nationally recognized, paid day off for everyone. Parades will be held. Future students will be forced to read about it and write reports. You may be thinking "What earth-shattering event occurred on March 12?"

March 12 is the date that the creator of Fuzzy, Black Dogs was born! If that doesn't constitute a full-blown, nationally observed holiday, then I don't know does.

Massive Winter Storm Coming!

My wife and I have taken drastic measures to bring on the forecasted onslaught of horribly cold, snowy weather that is supposed to pummel the east coast.

Snow dance? While I've joked about that one, nope. Cloud seeding? Darn, no pilots license, so I guess not. Pagan weather ritual? I'm a simple Quaker. I've got no time for silliness.

Instead, we decided to go for the gusto. My wife and I broke out the summer clothes!

Already sporting shorts, too, as you can see by my hairy leg.

As you can see in the above photo, I'm already sporting my flip-flops around. Man, that feels good... Next thing you know, I'll be out flailing at some golf balls with metal poles, known as 'clubs.'

"Correlation does not imply causation," is a scientific phrase my son picked up off the Internet that he is fond of saying. 

Whether that's true or not (I suspect it is), there has always been a cold snap that has followed the switching of the clothes ritual in my house.

I've saved everyone the trauma of wondering if we'll get that snowy weather that has been predicted.

Consider yourselves warned. 

Fuzzy Black Dogs on Ice

It seems that the newest fuzzy, black dog, otherwise known as Bob, hasn't noticed that the ground has changed colors. I put the three of them out the back door and into the yard to do their business. As I opened the door, Bob barreled out just like I'd expect a spaniel to do. Generally, the only thing he notices is when there is a gale force wind driving torrents of rain sideways. He doesn't care for that.

On the other hand, Ace and Lilly, were just a bit more reserved about the cold, ice-slushie bathroom break. Ace generally does what I ask him to do. Generally. He slowed down considerably on the deck and looked around before going down the steps to the yard. Lilly, however, stopped half-way out the door.

One paw touched the cold, slippery stuff and the almighty princess, as my son sometimes calls her, stopped dead in her tracks. Now she's standing in the doorway with two paws inside, one paw in the vile, inhospitable ice-slush and one paw held in the air. She held this position and looked up at me with an expression that could only be translated as follows: "You pulled me off the comfy sofa to do this to me?! Wait'll you see what I've got planned when you go to sleep..."

Meanwhile, Ace has learned a new trick. While Bob is out running around the yard like it's a fine spring day, Ace is sitting nearly out of sight at the bottom step, waiting. After a certain amount of time, he runs back up the steps and to the door like he's done his business. Then I have to walk out into the elements and point out into the yard telling him to "go." Sometimes I even have to walk to the bottom step and "catch" him sitting there, as if he thinks I don't know.

In the meantime, Bob, having done his business came barreling back up to the back door. While incredibly cute, Bob is not the most intelligent or coordinated dog of the bunch. He hit the top step at top speed. He gave the appearance of trying to stop, but managed to slide completely across the deck and in through the back door. One down, two to go.

Lilly followed with her head and tail down, slowly and carefully placing each foot in the mess. She flashed an indignant look at me as she passed. Then came Ace, who had finally ventured out into the yard. I know I saw him do number one, but I didn't remember seeing number two.

As I finally made my way inside, I heard my son's voice just inside the door...

"Oooohhh...  Da poor doggies! He's so mean to da poor doggies! Forcing da poor innocent doggies to poop and pee out in da howwible howwible weather..."

Perhaps I can train him. Then I can stay toasty and warm inside while he takes them out in the howwible, howwible weather!

Fuzzy Black Dogs Versus Two Inches of Snow

I have discovered that the fuzzy, black dogs, otherwise known as Ace and Lilly, that I own don't exactly get along with the white precipitation known as snow currently upon the ground. Lilly, the smaller dog, particularly doesn't like the snow. In fact, she doesn't seem to care for anything cold, wet or slimy to touch her paws.

Normal protocol dictates that I let the dogs out the back door and they run down the steps, out into the yard and do numbers one and two. They come back, scratch upon the door and are let back inside. Snow only creates a new wrinkle, or an added difficulty, to the process of relieving bodily functions of four-legged family members.

Upon discovering something unpleasant underfoot for her first excursion to relieve herself, Lilly slowed. I felt like a psychiatrist observing his patient from an unseen location. She took three steps out the door and came to an abrupt halt. Lilly looked back at the door. No human. She looked out into the yard, which was the same color as the back deck -- white. What is an "all mighty princess," as my son calls her, to do? Why, squat and relieve herself three steps from the back door on the snowy deck, of course.

This has caused some consternation since now someone has to chaperone the dogs for their potty excursions. I won't allow my wife to do it since she and slippery surfaces are like mortal enemies. My son always seems to be missing something important, like shoes, when the fuzzy, black dogs are doing the potty dance. Which, of course, leaves me. I herd them to the yard through grunts, yells and wildly gesticulating arms, wearing only pajamas at the worst of times.

I feel certain that most of my neighbors see them and think, "those fuzzy, black dogs are so cute. Too bad their owners aren't a bit more normal..."