Friday, January 29, 2010

What Brown Can Do

No, this isn't a fashion post. Or a makeup post. Or a hair post. (Darn it!) The wind sounds just far enough away from freight train level for me to know that it's not actually a tornado, and there's rain that will probably freeze on the driveway again. I'm inside feeling thankful now that I'm done pulling the window screens off of the deck and into the house (they're still down from when we had our house painted--oops!--and when I heard one fly up against the side of the house, I knew it was time to at least bring them in).

Brown is supposedly a cozy color. It's recommended for dens and living areas where you want to feel warm and relaxed, where you want to wind down after a long day. I remember my dad had a brown La-Z-Boy recliner pretty much all my life, and I have to agree; that color is like an instant hug. I love color therapy, or chromotherapy, but that's another post.

So brown...the color of my dog and the color of the insanely rich hot chocolate my hubby makes for me when I'm having a bad day (or a craving...haha). Today was a bad day.

First, I'll start with the hot chocolate:

I love how he has whipped cream and chocolate syrup for hair. 70% cocoa, melted in a double boiler with heavy whipping cream, honey, milk, and some other stuff I don't remember. I can't drink it often, but it is oh-so-good.

The other "brown" I'm thankful for tonight is my dog, Rufus. We did a little mini-photoshoot tonight:

He's a boxer/bulldog mix we got from the shelter about five years ago. He'd been seized by the sheriff's department because his previous owner chained him up outside and basically just left him there. He was emaciated when we got him but he LOVED to try to play and run. We could see what kind of heart he had and how his rough beginnings (first nine months of life) didn't harm his outlook on life or humanity. He has proven us right time and time again.

Rufus is kind of silly sometimes, like when we first moved into our current house and he caught his reflection in the window and tried to attack it. But he's an excellent dog and he unflinchingly takes SUCH abuse from Ramona. She drags him around by the collar (she's technically walking him without a leash, but he doesn't seem too enthusiastic about it), steps on his feet, pulls on his tail, smacks him in the face sometimes while shouting, "FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT" (somebody's observed too many video games being played), and still, he doesn't care. He guards her door while she sleeps, checks on her when she falls, licks her when she gets close enough and doesn't seem to be up to anything silly...

We could learn a lot from dogs. Especially big goofy brown mutts who just want to be loved.

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