I'm Bound. Snow Bound

Yes we are! Easily over a foot here. But a good weekend nonetheless.

Anticipating Saturday being a nonstarter for travel, I thought that if I was going to darken the door of the Bike Stop this weekend, it would have to be Friday night. So after dinner, I headed south. And it was a good night. Wall to wall hot men. And they all seemed to be interested in each other, but not in me. Grrrr.

Now that's not entirely true. It was mostly me. The energy I was putting out. I was still in the throes of feeling pretty unhorny. And guys seemed to be so much work. And, I keep getting dumped! (What is up with that?) So maybe it was all about me feeling like damaged goods.

And, of course, I had a long time to think about it all on the drive home.

Saturday I had big plans. Really big plans. Since it's the Year of the Dog, I want to get Faithful Companion over to the Bark Park in Montgomeryville as often as possible. And we had a blast. At first, we had the place to ourselves. But then some other dogs--and owners--showed up. I chatted with a pleasant lesbian whose dog Cairo is an obsessive holedigger. And my boy-boy had a great time. I love seeing him so playful.

Then came grocery shopping, then home to treat my father to my reknowned roast chicken. (Served up with potatoes roasted in the pan and some of the sweet corn I put up last summer. Yeah! I put up sweet corn!) After an incredible dinner, I spent an evening watching the Olympics while the snow fell outside.

Lovely.

Today, of course, was all about shoveling snow. It was my fathers inclination that I should shovel out the driveway.

Say what?

Y'see, the guy who plows our driveway has chosen this week to head to Mexico for vacation.

Now, shoveling the driveway is pointless, right? My father doesn't go anywhere, I have four-wheel drive, so what's the point?

But then, but then, I suddenly developed a reason to leave the house. This Manhunt guy from Hamburg, PA. Jeff the Chef. Okay. With my father's fear of me driving in bad weather, how to make that work. Well, the points that I make from spending some time shoveling snow should get me out the door. So I started in. And that obsessive thing of mine kicked in. I figured, I'll just do the first ten feet, so that the guy that delivers our paper can back in to turn around. But then I developed this system, working in a (oddly satisfying) herringbone pattern. Further and further up the driveway I went.

(Oh. And I was wearing these performance outer garments. These black stretchy tights for pants that are made for skiers or something, and one of my Buck Rogers tops. I looked not unlike some snow-shoveling superhero out there. Passing salt trucks slowed down. Yo.)

Well, before you know it, there was no stopping me. All the snow had to be cleared from the driveway. And it was. And believe me, with all the snow we got... well... that was a lot of snow to shovel.

But my fiendish plan worked perfectly. Dad had no problem with me heading out for a couple of hours.

So we decided that the Starbucks in Quakertown would be a good meeting place. And off I headed. My newly retooled Jeep Liberty taking the ill-plowed roads beautifully. And there was the guy.

And he was smokin'. Just way hot. He had this long, lean body--like a greyhound--only instead of sleek, just covered in fur. Clearly, he was built for sex.

But of course, with both of us 45 minutes or more away from home, there was little we could do besides chat over lattes.

But it all did me a world of good. To have a hot man desire me, and desire him back.

The sun was down, the roads would be icing up, and I had to get home to make cock-a-leekie soup for my father.

Another good weekend. Can't wait for the next one.

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