They should give blizzards names like they do hurricanes or tropical storms: "Be prepared," anchors will warn, eyes widened in alarm, "Blizzard Mary is coming this way and she packs a mean punch: Up to a foot and more with drifting!"

Here's what I was supposed to do today:
* Have lunch with my friend C
* Rehearse as a monk in Romeo & Juliet
* Have dinner with J and B (my now-former landlord and his boyfriend)

Instead, the morning began with non-stop, full-coverage on the "great winter storm" heading our way. It was sort of laughable -- this is Ohio. We get snow here. And the grey and overcast view outside was typical. But from the morning on, the closing notices began crawling across the bottom of the screen -- churches, youth groups, senior activities -- followed by Monday school and work closings. Channel 7 had web-cams and weathermen posted all over town reporting minute-by-minute triple-Doppler advance of the storm.

To make matters worse, on our saturday night walk, Grace ate some roadkill -- gulp gulp, down the hatch -- before I could stop her. This sometimes happens.

The result: Messy. While the TV pleaded for considerate driving during the upcoming weather "emergency conditions", I tackled a few emergency conditions of my own inside. I spent pretty much all day scrubbing the off-white carpets with ammonia and vinegar. (The off-white's a little more off now in spots. I hate carpeting.) No lunch with C. No rehearsal for Romeo and Juliet. No dinner with J and B.

My friend R in San Francisco sent me an article about "cozies": Crime novels with little blood or gore, and Absolutely No Sex. Think Miss Marple, apparently making a come-back. One set of cozies are co-authored by a cat. Cozies are fast-track revenue-growth books these days.

Partway through carpet-scrubbing, my tenant knocked. It was embarrassing because things were still a bit rank. "I hope you don't mind my son washing the driveway with clorox," she said, "but you know how things are when a vile murder has been committed."

(KIDDING!) She came to tell me about her "breakdown". That's why the ambulance visited the other night. "I'm being asked to do too much at work. I do what I know, and very well, but when I'm asked to do payroll -- that's not in my job description! And it's just too much." The doctors haven't 'released' her back to work yet. At least she's paid her February rent.

"I just love well-behaved poopies!" My tenant said, as Grace jumped all over her. She's left now, and Grace is curled in the 'forbidden' chair. She's eaten, but so far no antsiness -- her sickness has broken. It's dark and still outside: The snow has stopped (but not the TV coverage). In the end, we got about 6 inches. I'm disappointed with our great winter storm.

Redesigning my blog page earlier this week, I had smugly thought How cute, people can write my dog. "I hope you're feeling better, Grace," you can now write, "You shouldn't eat roadkill -- It's yucky and will make you sick."

Blllllccccchhhh!! Just like this blog entry.

Not quite a blizzard and not quite a cozy. Oh well, there's always next time...Time for walkies!