I have an excuse, though… I was on vacation. Whoooooo, did I need a vacation and some serious rest! (If you think that’s what I got, you have NOT been paying attention here.)
Jesse and I found a place in Julian that we like a lot – a lovely little dog-friendly cabin, and we like to rent it and sneak away when we can. The idea, you see, is that the dog gets a full acre fenced yard to run around in and we get to sit in front of the fire and complain about how tired we both are.
Day one, we pile all our gear and a cooler with our food into our truck. Dog has been drugged, and is coaxed into the cab. He does NOT like car rides. It’s drizzling lightly, which doesn’t help because he does NOT like rainstorms. This is bad, because one hour later we’re driving carefully on slippery winding mountain roads, and the drizzle has turned to snow which now turns briefly to hail. Big pellets of ice ping off the roof of the cab, the rear wheels slide around, and we wonder if the last hilly three miles to the cabin are even possible.
Bander-Boo, normally the most calm and patient of dogs, now has a nervous breakdown. He makes sure we know about it, by sticking his head up front between our seats, looking mournfully into my eyes, and then barfing in my lap.
Ah, just the way I like to start a vacation!
We get there just as snow begins in earnest. I leap out of the truck and run for the lockbox that holds the door key, while stripping off my outer pants and thanking the universe at large that I wore layers. The dog gets out and wobbles around the yard, thanking the universe that he isn’t in a moving vehicle any longer. My husband starts unloading the truck.
We get unpacked, settled, cleaned up, and warm. Since the drive was so traumatic, we just hung out inside and had dinner.
Nice calm evening.
Even the traumatized dog started to relax.
The next morning, we woke up to find out that it was twenty-two degrees outside, and that the road looked like this:
To people from San Diego, this is beyond our capacity to cope. We do fires and earthquakes, not this white stuff. Fortunately, two days later, they plowed the roads and Jesse was able to go to town for emergency supplies (firewood and pie).
He paced back and forth on the wood floors (clickity clickity clickity clickity clickity clickity clickity clickity clickity clickity) until I lost my mind, then demanded to go play in the snow.
But he also insisted that we go with him, because he didn’t want to be lonely. Since the cabin is at high altitudes, that means that we spent a lot of time hiking up and down snowy hills then leaning against trees and wheezing, while the dog had the time of his life.