A mighty wind is blowing across the land today. It's apparently one of the strongest storms on record in Minnesota, comparable to the "gales of November" that sunk the Edmund Fitzgerald and inspired Gordon Lightfoot's overwrought, overlong, overrated 8-minute opus. "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" is one of those songs they play ad nauseum every November, along with that other, overwrought, overlong, overrated ditty, "Alice's Restaurant."
I digress. I thought the mighty wind would be a fun opportunity to get a Fabio-like shot of Dempsey, his chest hairs bravely blowing in the wind. Alas, it turns out that Dempsey is a bit of a princess. He doesn't like the wind, the rain, or the puddles, and it took some cajoling to get him to go potty this afternoon.
So instead, we practiced "speak" in the wind. With the big storm, we thought it would be good practice for Dempsey to get help, if your wheelchair -- or car, or house -- got overturned in the gusts.
As you can tell, we still need to do some work on "speak."