Earth to the Sun: Did you forget about Canada?

Gah. March 25th and it's still dead-of-winter here. We get tiny glimpses of the possibility of Spring, but by the weekend they get blown away in yet another North wind and we're back to plugging the car in at night for a few days.

I tried on my pretty brown Nine West suede pumps today, paraded them in front of the mirror, thought briefly about the curling rink that is the parking lot at my office (the result of an ice storm last weekend that hasn't yet had a chance to thaw), took them off and put them back in the closet. We'll try again next month, perhaps.

Oh, this gets good here: I decided to wear my beloved tan suede boots that I found on ebay a couple of years ago -- four-inch heels, round toe with a strap and a buckle across the toe (reminiscent of the confederate boots from back in the day but way cuter) -- a nice compromise until I can actually wear pretty shoes outside. I get to the front hall closet where all of my boots live and discovered that Mr X's large brown dog had just finished PEEING ALL OVER MY BEAUTIFUL BOOTS. And my tall black boots too, which I don't particularly love, but for the love of all things girlie, what the hell? Why my boots? It's still winter here, Puddy. People need to wear those boots, huh?

So, we'll see what a morning soaking in water, followed by a vinegar scrub in the afternoon, does to my sweet, sweet tan suede boots. I don't have much hope, unfortunately, but I WILL fight for them, damn it. They are so very pretty.

I still love the dog, though. He keeps me safe and that is worth something. MY dog doesn't wreck anything, though. She respects my things, now that she's a civilized dog. Her only downside is that she can't be trusted to go out in the yard by herself or she soars over our five-foot fence and lopes around the neighbourhood. So, if she needs to go out, be it three o'clock in the morning in the middle of a thunderstorm or whenever, I have to go with her. But: she does not pee on my boots. Ever.