Where is Winter?

I live in Rhode Island, and it's supposed to be winter here. I went for a walk with my dog yesterday wearing a fleece coat. No hat, no gloves, no scarf. Not an icy patch to be seen. Not a single snowflake. No arctic wind whipping at my cheeks. I'm not complaining. I'm just saying...it's kind of weird.

When you grow up in New England, you expect January to be white and wicked. Usually, by this point, you would have shoveled your driveway at least six times, hurt your back doing so about three times, and not be able to see a damn thing over the snow piles as you try to navigate your white-washed car out of the driveway. You would have broken in your snowboots, busted an ice scraper or two, built ten snowmen, gone ice skating, sledding, snowshoeing. You would have slipped fourteen times on your front walkway as you made the treacherous journey from your front door to the mailbox. School would have been cancelled at least twice or been delayed an hour or dismissed early. Something.

You wouldn't be driving with your window down. Riding your bike would seem ridiculous because of all the sand on the roadways. Kids would not be playing basketball in the street. I mean, I actually saw a guy grilling steaks on his deck as if it were a summer day! Smelled damn good, but you're supposed to be eating chicken soup in the dead of winter, right?

Again--and let me stress this--I'm NOT complaining. I'm digging this new "tropical" Rhode Island. Forty and fifty degree temperatures in January are like a dream come true to me. While I don't mind the cold and I love the beauty of a fresh snowfall, I'm deathly afraid of driving in the white stuff. Deathly. Nice, dry, non-slippery roadways are a gift and I'll take as many days of this as I can get.

But still...there's a little voice in the back of my mind that's saying, "This isn't right. What's happening to the planet? Exactly how much trouble are we in?" Anyone else worried?

If you live in an area that's supposed to be buried under snow, but isn't, you can download ALASKA HEART to get a dose of winter fun. I'm pretty sure it'll warm you up more than cool you off though. ;)

What's your favorite winter activity?

Christine

http://www.christinedepetrillo.weebly.com/ 



 

Puppies, Puppies, Puppies!

Did I get your attention? Nothing like the word "puppies" to raise your interest, right? On Wednesday, November 23rd, I got my first puppy. He's an all black German Shepherd. This is him.

His name is Anubis after the Egyptian guardian of the underworld who is portrayed as having the head of a jackal which looks very similar to a full grown German Shepherd. He's 11 weeks old and already understands the commands "sit," "stay," "come," and we're working on "shake." He loves to play games in our backyard. His favorite is chasing a tennis ball knotted onto a rope that we swing in a circle. He'll chase it until his legs no longer work!

I've always considered myself a "cat person." I have two, whom you'll meet in subsequent posts today. I got more interested in dogs after writing my book, ALASKA HEART.

In this tale, the hero, Dale Ramsden Jr. is the youngest Iditarod winner. He has eighteen Siberian huskies that he uses as sled dogs. I had so much fun researching the features and care of this magnificent breed. Giving the main dogs, Gyspy and Zynk, their own personalities also allowed me to think like a dog for some of the book.

When giving a character a pet, or in this case, a whole team of pets, you get the rare opportunity to say something about the character without having to spell it all out. The way Dale interacts with his dogs speaks volumes about the kind of man he is. It also says a little something about how he'd treat the woman of his dreams, nature reporter, Alanna Cormac. A man who can successfully manage eighteen full grown dogs in an organized fashion also lets readers know Dale can multitask, a very sexy skill in my opinion. Right up there with six pack abs and the whisper of a stubbly beard. Now that's a MAN!

While my pooch, Anubis, has a great deal to learn about how things work in my family, I know he'll be whipped into shape just like Dale's dogs in no time. 

Here's an excerpt from ALASKA HEART:

He closed the door behind him, and I stood in

the kitchen for a long moment. I turned toward the

window over the sink when barking erupted from

the backyard. Dale had entered the dogs’ enclosure,

and every one of the dogs was on its feet, crowding

around him. Gesturing, Dale got all the dogs under

control in seconds. Each one sat on its haunches in

front of its own doghouse as he went into the shed.

The dogs waited patiently while he prepared their

food. When he came back outside and placed bowls

in front of each dog, they dove into the food on his

signal.

Dale was impressive to watch. He leaned

against the shed, waiting for the dogs to finish. As

his head turned skyward, the sun illuminated his

chiseled features. He fished a pair of sunglasses

from his jacket pocket and popped them on, which

made him look more like a famous athlete somehow.

Dale patted his chest, and Gypsy rose on her

hind legs until her front paws rested below his

shoulders. He closed his arms around the dog and

stroked her furry back. His lips were moving. What

secrets was he telling Gypsy? She licked his chin,

and he laughed as he wiped off her slobber. He

pointed to the ground, and Gypsy dropped to all

fours next to him.

I was about to end my Dale-watching and hunt

down my laptop when he turned toward the window

and waved.

“Now how did he know I was still here?” I said to

Zynk, who had come to sit almost on top of my feet.

I waved back and forced myself to leave the

kitchen. “I’ve got to get this article done, Zynk,

because ninety-nine percent of my brain wants to be

focused on that man ninety-nine percent of the

time.”

Zynk let out a bark.

“Okay, okay. You’re right. It’s one hundred

percent of the time.”

 

To order your copy of ALASKA HEART in print or e-book, visit me at http://www.christinedepetrillo.weebly.com/.

Toodles,

Christine DePetrillo