The Lift Trucks Gallery sent me this short video that they made of last night’s reading. If you don’t blink, at the very end, you will see me up at the mike. But as the others have said, the most fun was (for me) before the event, and (for them) afterward.

I arrived at our designated meeting spot, Tazza Cafe, and as one of the others stated, within minutes, our screeching and cackling and guffawing had driven the other patrons away. Most had arrived before me and Tracy very graciously offered to buy me a cup of tea and then we all got to gabbing, and honestly, it felt like I was with family.

Here’s stuff I learned about the people who went, that I hadn’t already known:

Barbara teaches at an inner-city school and she loves her students and some of them have gone on to compete on a state (national?) level in an academic competition, with her as the coach. They are “Team Sorenson!” She sent me a photo of the team with their trophies but it’s quite blurry. Hoping she’ll send another.

Aislinn’s parents are from Ireland and she’s used to a lot of swearing and foul language and sang a song for us involving brass cleaner and bollocks! It was funny, because she’s soft-spoken and feminine.

Bev’s brother (cousin? Oh, how I wish I was taking notes) is a famous footballer in the UK. Bev’s husband Mark was a very good sport for coming along.

Colleen is thoughtful and kind and recommended my friend Dani Shapiro’s book, highly. She had just finished it.

Tracy was quieter than I expected, but her laugh is booming and infectious.

Alan explained that “putz” and “schmuck” are even nastier words than most of us had thought. Oh yes, we got right down to some vulgarities, even bandying about the c-word at one point (It was me, sorry. It was a joke).

Wonderful Arliss and her husband Bruce live quite near me and Bruce is the published author of a cook book!

Lisa is funny and pretty and thinks she doesn’t photograph well, which she does. Lisa’s Tom, also a great sport.

KC (Ms. Brunch) and her husband Matt met us at the gallery and then went on to dinner with the rest of the gang. I met KC years ago when she was a kid. SHe’s not a kid anymore! Gorgeous.

Here’s a group photo, taken by Tracy:

Here I am at the mike. As you can see, I decided to convert my story into song and sing it for the group.

Well the group has been sending each other photos from past night and perhaps they will put them up on their Facebook pages. Thanks to all who attended, you were wonderful!

I love an unexpected snowfall.  I watched the weather this morning and was told to expect a few flurries, but it’s been snowing for hours.  All the school buses were out, I guess the snow caught the school district by surprise too.  Let’s hope everybody gets where they’re going, safe and sound.

It’s so peaceful here when it snows.  Why does the snow have such a silencing effect? The steady sound of those horses munching their hay, the crunching of the snow under their hooves all seem amplified by the stillness in the air.  Horses get very thoughtful when they’re chewing their hay on a quiet morning. They pull a mouthful from the pile on the ground and then raise their heads and slowly work their jaws, their lids lowered dreamily, as in some sort of spiritual contemplation.  I’ve found a great hay source who brings us the second cutting of last summer’s hay.  It’s almost as green as fresh-cut grass.   I suppose the horses are dreaming of the summer while they eat it, of the fields covered with green grass and clover again.  Or they’re offering up some kind of silent equine prayer.  Seriously, if you could stand next to these horses on a morning like this, you’d believe they have some sort of divine communication going on.

We took an early hike when the snow was just starting.  Our new favorite place to hike requires a short car ride.

Holly is definitely one of those mutts who looks like a breed.  Our former terrier mutts, Rocky and Pongo, though unrelated, looked like brothers and like an actual terrier breed.  Sort of like long-legged Scotties.  I got so tired of people asking me what kind of dogs they were, that I assigned them the breed name of Galway Terriers. Wait, I’ve blogged about this before.

So I want to assign a breed name to Holly.  She has the temperament and stature of a Jack Russell, so I thought perhaps a Jane Russell Terrier would be a clever name.  But too gimmicky. Nobody would be believe it.  The fun is when people tell you how much they’ve always loved the breed.

How about East Woodland Terrier?   Rough-Coated Mouse Terrier?

Daphne likes to jump up on the old stone walls that wind their way through the wooded areas up here.  This was all open farmland 100 years ago, but now the fields have been overgrown with forests and the walls are wonderfully nostalgic artifacts of a different time.

Stumpy Wannabe Terrier?

It rained here on Monday. It poured rain. Part of our driveway was washed away, our kitchen ceiling leaked and the dogs and I were pretty much stuck indoors.  Holly drove all of us to thoughts of puppycide.  She was a very bad girl.  She attacked me and the other dogs, repeatedly, chewed up a shoe, refused to pee while outside in the rain and then squatted on a rug the minute I brought her in. And most annoying of all was her unrelenting glee.  The dogs and I were cranky because of the rain.  We wanted to lie in the bed-desk  and listen to the rain but somebody kept launching surprise attacks on our feet and muzzles.  When she was scolded she wagged her tail and then leapt at us again. She had a few time-outs.

Yesterday, the sun came out and I took Holly and Daphne for a hike.  I’ve been hiking with these two because Daphne is the most well-balanced individual in not just our dog pack, but also in our entire family, going back many generations.  She has a calm, assertive, intelligent manner, always, and I want Holly to learn from her.  On these hikes, Holly pays a lot of attention to what Daphne does and Daphne pays a lot of attention to me.  As a result, the hikes are really great.

Here we are starting out:

The trail was wet and muddy.

Fortunately,  I was wearing my fleecy rain boots that I bought this winter and wear every single day.  They’re just plain rain boots, “Wellies” of a sort, but they’re lined with fleece:

Greatest boots ever. When I extract myself from bed-desk, I’ll find out who makes them for you.

On the way home, puppy was tired, Daphne, exhausted:

And I worked in peace the rest of the day.

I apologize to those of you whose comments didn’t appear when you posted them.  Sometimes they get sent to the spam pile and sometimes I forget to check.  It often happens when you post links.  I love the links, so if you post something and it doesn’t appear, feel free to let me know so I can dig it out of the spam bin.

I went on a very enjoyable hike with the dogs today, took all sorts of photos, and now can’t find the USB cord (again).  So I’ve rifled through the many, many photos on my computer to find something to brighten the blog again and found these winter landscapes.

That last shot is the sun setting behind the hockey rink.   I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I love the color and the light in the winter.

Here’s a nice poem, though it’s not yet February:

FEBRUARY: THE BOY BREUGHEL  by Norman Dubie

The birches stand in their beggar's row:
Each poor tree
Has had its wrists nearly
Torn from the clear sleeves of bone,
These icy trees
Are hanging by their thumbs
Under a sun
That will begin to heal them soon,
Each will climb out
Of its own blue, oval mouth;
The river groans,
Two birds call out from the woods

And a fox crosses through snow
Down a hill; then, he runs,
He has overcome something white
Beside a white bush, he shakes
It twice, and as he turns
For the woods, the blood in the snow

Looks like the red fox,
At a distance, running down the hill:
A white rabbit in his mouth killed
By the fox in snow
Is killed over and over as just
Two colors, now, on a winter hill:

Two colors! Red and white. A barber's bowl!
Two colors like the peppers
In the windows
Of the town below the hill. Smoke comes
From the chimneys. Everything is still.

Ice in the river begins to move,
And a boy in a red shirt who woke
A moment ago
Watches from his window
The street where an ox
Who's broken out of his hut
Stands in the fresh snow
Staring cross-eyed at the boy
Who smiles and looks out
Across the roof to the hill;
And the sun is reaching down
Into the woods

Where the smoky red fox still
Eats his kill. Two colors.
Just two colors!
A sunrise. The snow.

I can’t post this latest Holly photo on the blog lest it blind you all with it’s potentially toxic levels of cute.  Seriously, put on some protective goggles or shades before clicking on this link.

Devin actually got a shot of me working at my “desk” today.  I will hide this photo also, only because I can’t bear to have it hanging on the wall of the blog.  So depressing.  Yes, it’s light out.  Yes, I’m in bed, where I have been since we turned the clocks back last fall.  Like the bear, I plan to emerge from my hibernation during the spring thaw, but unlike the bear, I might have to be removed from my “den” through a window, by a giant crane.  If you want to gain weight, which I know everybody does, I recommend that all work, play and eating take place in bed, in a semi-reclined position.  Like this.

I love the way Daphne is smiling at the camera.  She’s been enjoying our months in the beddesk as much as I have.

I hesitate to interrupt all the introductions with a new blog but I encourage people to keep coming out! I don’t want to say welcome, because many of you have been reading all along, but, it’s lovely to hear all the new voices.

I have been insanely busy, this week and so have many people I know. First, my friend Dani Shapiro has a new book coming out on Monday. The book is called Devotion and it’s a beautiful examination of her spiritual journey in what she calls “the afternoon of life.” Click on her link and have a look at her books and blog and introduce yourselves while you’re there.  I’ve already read Devotion and recommend it highly!

I have also been researching animal rescue organizations for my book and would like to call your attention to a wonderful contest that is going on at The Animal Rescue Site.  You can vote for your favorite  rescue organization and the group that receives the most votes will receive lots of $$$$$$$.  But you don’t have to give a penny.  I know everybody is giving whatever they can spare to Haiti relief organizations now, so this is a way you can help by just, literally lifting a finger and clicking on the “vote” link.  If you don’t have a favorite rescue organization, please vote for Hot Water Rescue New England.  This group has saved some of the neediest dogs in New England and could really use the support.  Here’s a gorgeous pup that they have saved and are trying to place:

So get out your vote!  You can vote once a day, every day.

I consulted two very good friends, one of whom is now in the spiritual world (but still reads my blog, God bless him) about some of the bad vibes that we’ve had here during the past few days.  They knew exactly what they must do. They had a “bed-in” for us.

That’s me, on the phone with John at 1:47. “Together!” he said.

Now everyone, time for a big group (((((((((((((((awkward stiffness))))))))))))))))).

The dogs and I think the idea of a bed-in is a splendid one. It’s actually a philosophy that we practice every day.

The other day a woman was here interviewing me for a local magazine.  She wanted to photograph me in my “work space.”  I tried to change the subject and throw her off-topic by gossiping about somebody we both know, but she persisted.  She thought it would be great to show me working away at a desk.  So I sheepishly showed her my office, which could actually qualify me for an episode of the reality show, Hoarders, and mumbled something about working in there, when it’s not so cluttered.   I couldn’t show her my fabulous real office, where I’m propped up by pillows all day and puppies try to stay awake so that they can stare at me:

See that computer screen? It was frozen like that for ten minutes and I was staring at the cursed pinwheel of doom.  Something is really wrong with my computer but I’m afraid to take it to the Apple Store, because the last time I did that, they “fixed” it by removing its brain.

Well, Benjamin Franklin worked in his bed too.  I think.

I received the most lovely email recently from a faithful reader who provided this definition of a traditional salon:

Salon:  a 17th century French idea, a gathering of stimulating and attractive people of quality under the roof of an inspiring hostess, partly to amuse one another and partly to refine their taste and increase their knowledge through conversation and readings.

Sound familiar?  I think that all you stimulating and attractive readers and commenters have turned this blog into a sort of wonderful salon. Which brings me to something I’ve been putting off because I’m so busy. The blog needs a new title.  Ann Leary’s Blog just doesn’t cut it.  And the ugly banner has to go as well as the photo.  I don’t even look like that photo anymore. I look like this:

I just took that photo, so it’s exactly what I look like now.  I’m not really balding.  It’s the way my hair dried today.  Really.

If anybody has a great idea for a blog title that I end up using, I will give you a prize.  Whatever you want.  One of my books, autographed?  You got it.  A very cute puppy who likes to drag defenseless chihuahuas around by their tails?  You got it! Kidding about puppy.  But you have all displayed your brilliant wit, again and again over the past few days, so I turn the naming of the blog over to you.

Oh, by the way, my email is broken.  I cannot get emails at ann@annleary.com.  I am very angry at my stupid mail server right now.  So, sorry, if you sent an email today, I didn’t see it. It’s gone. Ugggg.

Last week I received the following email from a regular blog reader whose name I won’t mention because I haven’t asked permission.  I hope she’ll feel comfortable enough to identify herself.  Anyway, she emailed me because she lives halfway across the country, but owns Lulu’s clone.  Here’s what she said in her email:

“Our dog, Samson, was also a rescue dog. He is almost 3 years old and we have had him since he was 12 weeks. His mom was a French Mastiff and his dad was an Airedale. We laughed at your post of Lulu eating the driveway because Samson also has a tendency to eat everything. The shingles on our house, the wood return grate in our living room and too many socks to count. Luckily he has been fine through all of it. He also has some trouble with his hips but we are able to control it with glucosamine.

Samson is very protective which we believe to be part of his Mastiff side. In addition, he seems to be very intelligent (different from Lulu as I have read). He knows how to open doors in our house since the knobs are not round but go up and down. He looks at the toilet lid when it is down as if he wishes he had hands to open it for a cold drink. On the other hand, he also will sit in the snow and not come. There are times when I believe he genuinely does not get it.”

For those of you who are new to the blog, our Lulu ate a portion of our driveway once.

Anyway, Samson’s owner sent a couple of photos.  Who can guess which of the following pictures is Lulu? That’s the real Lulu at the top of the page, in our barn, after a bath.

Is this Lulu?

Or this?