We Aren’t in the Desert Yet

Today I woke up to cramps in my ankles, probably because my feet were two blocks of ice. The fickle dachshunds had taken up residence in the middle of our king-size bed and were warming each other instead of us. I was standing by the bed when John, who was already up, came in and said, “I want to show you something.” By then the cramps had gone, so I walked to the other side of the bed, where John stood pointing at the covers on his side of the bed. 

We have five coverings on our bed: the sheets, then a thin blanket, a thick blanket, and a quilt. On John’s side, the top sheet and skinny blanket hung down the side and the warm covers barely came to the top edge of the mattress. John then announced that he had frozen his butt off last night. Since I had just arisen, I shrugged my shoulders and went off to the bathroom.

A bit later, I was drinking my first cup of coffee when I looked over at John, who was busy preparing the dog’s breakfast, which consists of freeze-dried raw food, cooked hamburger, and turkey, with the occasional scrambled egg. Naturally, the pups were very attentive as they sat waiting with bright eyes and wagging tails. But the blanket thing was bothering me, so I said to him, “Why didn’t you pull the covers over towards you?”

John looked at me with an expression of disbelief, then said, “Because you would—” He then made horrible growling noises and hooked his hands into claws. This display lasted about 30 seconds and was very impressive! The dogs reacted by opening their eyes wide and stopping their tails mid-wag. We both burst out laughing, and the tails started up again, but they directed wary looks toward John. All was forgiven when the food arrived; they are dachshunds after all.

But back to the blankets . . . I’m sorry to say that it is probably true that I would be pretty hostile if someone tried to get even one inch of my blankets on a cold night . . .

Sipping my coffee, I looked outside where the sun was shining brightly, making short work of the frosted roofs. I then picked up what I thought was my iPad. The weather forecast was on display, and I was hoping for bright sun icons, but all I saw was snowflakes day after day. My jaw dropped. Then I realized it was John’s iPad and the forecast was for Lake Tahoe. I sighed in relief and scrolled to our forecast. Rain was due to start soon and continue until 6:00 p.m. The famous calendar was completely blank, but this meant I had to get a move on and take Teddy for a walk. (John takes Sadie.) Gone was the leisurely morning I had anticipated.

After a quick breakfast and shower, I put Teddy’s harness on him and we took off down the hill—I wish. Teddy was in full sniff mode. We passed two houses, and he still had his nose to the ground. I started encouraging him verbally to get a move on it as pea-size drops started spotting the sidewalk. Finally, he looked up and realized it had started to rain. He gave me a poignant look and turned back toward the house. After a lot of encouragement, we did get the walk in, and halfway through the drops turned to drizzle. I think we made it home in record time.

Don’t get me wrong: I am exceedingly grateful that it has been raining for 40 days and nights. Well . . . it seems that long. Also, as a Californian, it is politically incorrect to complain about rain. We are in the third year of a severe drought, and every drop is precious. Truly! So I thank the Creator for the blessed rain that refreshes the earth and all it contains, and for that feeling of renewal that comes after the storms and gets baked into our souls when the warm, bright sun replaces the cold, dark clouds.

Now if the storms would just spread out a bit . . . Did I write that?!