As I huddled over my gas tank, whipped by numbing winds that made my winter scarf and gloves feel about as effective as lace-weight gossamer frills, I thought, “Damn! I wish I still lived in New Jersey!”

In New Jersey you are not allowed to pump your own gas. You must stay inside your vehicle (I just thought of motorcycles…they have to get off in order to fill their tank) and allow some other poor, frozen person to do battle with your shut-so-tight-it-seems-super-glued gas cap. In Jersey the gas is cheaper than here, even with the pumping service. While you can still find actual ‘full service’ stations here in Massachusetts, you will pay extra for the privilege of them pumping you up.

That which is made of snow will be covered by snow: buried snowcastle

Dixie's snowy faceDixie doesn’t mind in the least, but *I* do.

She and Duncan flounce and bounce like a pair of Tigger’s through the snow drifts and then come running back into the house (most times I think our doggy door is a great convenience, but not at times like these), covered in snow (including snowy butts when they have been attending to ‘biz ness’) so we can attempt to towel off the clumps…so they can run back out into the snow to play more. They plead with us to join them in frolicking, but I much prefer my frolicking to be in warmer climes… like INdoors in the winter!

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