I'm back. It was another incredible, amazing weekend. Do y'all want to hear me get all soppy and talk about love and happiness and joy and all that kinda stuff? No, I thought not. I could, though! I really could! Y'all, he brought me roses on Sunday morning! We went for an early morning walk on the beach! Everything was totally fantastic! He even liked the dinosaur poster I gave him! And I'm all in love and shit! Okay, I'm stopping now. I promise.
To return to our regularly scheduled blog of darkness and dog stories, I must report that it's a little shattering to go walking on Folly Beach on Sunday morning in just a light jacket and then drive up to Asheville on Sunday afternoon. Right around Spartanburg I had to change from my Charleston jacket to my Asheville coat and then by the time I got home, it was snowing. It was twenty fucking three degrees this morning when I took the dogs to the river and the water started freezing on Django's back when he came out of the creek. That was really weird - if you've never seen a springer spaniel with icicles forming on his fur, you've - well, never seen it, I guess. Pretty strange and it didn't bother Django a bit. Sometimes I think I must be mad trying to get M to move here, where it is cold, when we could live in Charleston, where it is not. Then I remember that this argument could be oh so easily reversed in June.
In other news, I think I'm going to go get a Christmas tree this evening. I was going to wait for M to get here on Friday night so we could go pick one out together on Saturday and decorate it together and stuff (cue goopy romantic music here, yeah, I know, I can't help it) but then I panicked about not having a tree yet. My cold is mostly gone and I'm getting serious about the holidays. I wish there was some kind of list somewhere, oh, like the paper maybe, (ha ha! What a laff riot! Like the local paper would do something so staggeringly useful!) of Christmas tree lots and who's selling them for charity and where. In Baltimore I used to buy trees that benefited the eye bank, which was actually kind of creepy, because I could never help wondering if maybe someone's eye had been poked out by their tree and that's why they hit on that as a fundraiser. Of course, I also thought it would be totally cool if they decorated a whole tree with eyeballs as a sign, but whatever. Here, though, I've never found any tree stands for charity, except for a couple of blatantly Christian ones and as we know, since Jesus and I have a strict non-interference policy, I'm contractually obliged to avoid the real serious born again types. Not that I feel strongly about that (yeah I do, but I'm not going there and I just deleted some extraneous cussing, even) and actually, I do buy pumpkins from the Methodists, but then the Methodists seem a bit, well, saner than some. However, I guess if I'm buying a tree from anyone at all I'm sort of supporting a small tree farmer, which is charitable and oh well, what the hell. I'll probably go get one from that lady in my neighborhood who gets them from her cousin in Madison County.
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