Iced In

The crazy winter weather around these parts continues. Everything is covered in a thick layer of ice. This is especially dangerous in a town like ours that has huge trees around every corner and in nearly every yard. I could have posted some really alarming photos of houses where trees and branches heavy with ice have crashed through roofs (like my next door neighbor's for instance), but I don't like to capitalize on the misery of others.

I was iced in last night at a friend's house where I was tragically forced to consume chocolate dipped strawberries and California Chicken Salad slathered on church crackers. For those of you unfamiliar, California Chicken Salad is God's perfect chicken salad recipe and includes curry, almonds, grapes and..oh I don't remember what else. It is magically delicious and was developed by a local restauranteur a couple of decades ago. No one in this town is without the recipe and, if mine wasn't somewhere in a box right now, I'd post it.

In the midst of all this cracker crunching and consumption of adult beverages, we got a call from some other friends. A power line heavy with ice had crashed into their roof causing all sorts of chaos and necessitating a call to 911. The whole situation was deemed unsafe by the Authorities until morning, and these friends, their house without power now, headed on over with their dog, Zoe, a very Great Dane.

We all got a chuckle out of Zoe, pictured here with Caron, who is trying to check her e-mail. Zoe is making this difficult for Caron because she for some reason feels the need to press her booty up against Caron, who is in fact not any bigger than Zoe:

This went on for about five minutes, the Zoe leaning and the giggling, long enough for me to get the camera and take this photo. What we learned only later, is that this behavior on Zoe's part was likely a silent cry for help and the only official warning sign for the Very Big Poop that took place on the rug just a few feet away immediately following this extended session of extreme leaning.

And, while I don't like to embarass a girl, I have to tell you that I don't know exactly what they feed Zoe? But from the smell of things (which was damn near bad enough for a time to force us out into the ice storm), I'm just guessing that it ain't Science Diet.