My Assets are Frozen.

AH POOP.
I believe these were the words I shouted upon exiting my room this morning and looking out an exterior window. There was white filth all over my car.

I'm not talkin' about some practical joke gone wrong, I'm talkin' about the real thang. SNOW.

As in penguins and igloos and ice.

Scraping snow and ice off a car's windows in the frigid, accursed hours of the early morning, when you already happen to be late and didn't even eat any breakfast, is one of the most loathsome jobs there is.

So I made Gem do it.

In exchange for a piece of toast.
(Do I know how to bargain, or do I know how to BARGAIN?) 

But this sad state of events got me to thinking...
If I didn't happen to have a bed (or an apartment for that matter) and I lived the life of a traveling vagrant bum, I think I would definitely sleep under a tree.

Not like Pioneer Park in Salt Lake, were you can't tell if they're dead or just drunk.

Like a big fur tree. The kind with boughs that point downwards, making a little tent underneath their bottom-most branches. I'd definitely sneak under there for protection.

In fact, I've debated it several times on campus. No one would even know where I was...

When I told Gem this plan, she seconded its coolness factor but wondered how, exactly, I would survive under there??

"Easy." I answered, "I'd live off the squirrels."

"What??..." she countered, "You wouldn't kill a squirrel to save your life."

"Who said anything about killing poor defenseless woodland critters?" I questioned, "I would just share their nuts."

Her resulting burst of laughter prompted me to immediately knit my eyebrows.

Word of advice: before opening mocking me, you must always remember that, in MY world, anything's possible.

But I'm already tired of winter. I want more summer and autumn.
Unfortunately, my floral design class is the only place where this can still be a reality.

See what I've made:

Boutonnieres.

(Who even came up with that word? Why would you have a boot in your ear anyways?...)

Pumpkin Arrangement.

I am rather proud of this one.

It looks rather nice sitting on my dining table at home.

And I didn't even have to go out and buy a pumpkin. That's what happens when you have a faux-farmer for a father.

A faux-farmer of a father who's like the Little Red Hen.

A faux-farmer of a father I love. <3

A faux-farmer of a father who needs to fix my automatic car starter so I don't freeze my tushy off every morning.

Hmm...