Month: January 2019

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Don’t Ya Feel Better Just By Looking at It?

Bow Tie o’ the Day is helping me out on this gray January day. It brandishes colors galore, which even seem to be perking up our little Skitter. Skitter’s still hibernating most hours of the day, but when she’s awake her eyes are brighter and she is more playful than she was last week.

Skitter’s version of “play” means she lifts each front paw to the height of her head, usually one at a time, and then does KARATE KID “wax on, wax off” motions. I do the same back to her with my arms and hands. We can do that back and forth for quite a while. Skitter always starts our play session. I always end it when I decide we’re both tired of it. Seriously, that is the extent of how Skitter wants to play. We can play it when we’re right by each other or when we’re across the room from each other. I’ve tried to teach her other tricks and games, but she’s shown no interest whatsoever. Hey, whatever works for Skitter.

I’ve had plenty of dogs throughout my life, and they’ve all been like little kids. They’ve romped; they’ve carried on; they’ve gotten into things they shouldn’t have; they’ve wandered off; they’ve followed me around; they’ve ridden in the back of my truck. Skitter, however, is more of an infant. She doesn’t do much, but she’s really cute. I had no idea what we were getting into when we got her. I had no idea how needy she would be, and how weird her idiosyncrasies are. I’m still completely overjoyed we rescued her. But after five years loving her, it is still difficult for me to leave her at home alone. I worry she’ll be frightened. I leave the television on for her when I leave. If the television is on, she knows I’ll come home. Smart mutt.

I wrote a few days ago about how it seems to happen a lot that you’ll have no appointments on your schedule for days or weeks at a time, and then you schedule one thing, and suddenly more things come up that must be done on that same day. Crazy. That sort of happened when we got Skitter.

Within 24 hours of getting Skitter, my SWWTRN broke her hip which meant I had to go from Centerville to Provo to the hospital a few times to be with her. Then I went back to Centerville to get packed up to go to Delta for the Christmas break, which we did. That would have been plenty to fit into those hours.

And then suddenly all the legal machinations deciding the fate of gay marriage began happening, and we had to hurriedly drive from Delta through five counties to finally find a courthouse willing to marry us before a scheduled court hearing decision that might have put the kibosh on that idea. (Thanks, Davis County.)

Of course, we had to take Skitter in the car with us on these journeys because we had just gotten her, so she was discombobulated and scared and not one bit used to us or either of our houses yet. Centerville to Provo, to Centerville, to Provo, to Delta, then north through five counties, to Farmington, to Centerville, to Delta again. Talk about an overloaded itinerary in a smidgen of time. Whew!

If Skitter hadn’t been weird before she rescued us, all that traveling and excitement in that short a time period would have made her that way.

And I swear I had not one thing scheduled on my calendar for the next month.

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Wrestling With A Dilemma

Bow Tie o’ the Day adorns Mom as she poses in front of THE PORCH, in 1948. Momo and Popo’s porch was a huge part of my life as a kid, as well as Mom’s and my life after they were gone and I bought their house. After Dad died, Mom spent time on my porch two or three times a day, when weather permitted. She occupied the porch alone, or with me when I was in town. During the last year of Peggy’s life, Peggy joined us at least once almost every day. We watched the comings and goings of the neighborhood, and we solved all the problems of the world. If only the world listened to our brilliant ideas.

I mentioned in my last post that I have decided to post fewer (and maybe zero) new photos of Mom doing TIE O’ THE DAY. It’s recently become a concern I’ve been cogitating about.

Although I began TIE O’ THE DAY around four years ago, I’ve posted interesting pictures of Mom on Facebook for at least a decade. I started after Dad died. After some of the humorous photo posts starring Mom, my brother, Ron, left a message on my phone. He had seen one of the silly photos of Mom and he asked me if Mom knew I was posting them. He wondered if I might be being disrespectful to her by doing it.

When I called him back, I assured him that I okayed every post with Mom before posting it. In fact, I told him, the reason I didn’t answer his call– the reason he had to leave me a voicemail– was because Mom and I were sitting on the porch when he called, busy reading the funny and loving comments left below one of her posted photos by friends and family. Mom had been laughing so hard at some of the responses that she began laugh-crying. Mom loved the comments, and she loved reading the names of those who LIKEd the post. Some people who responded were people she hadn’t seen or thought about in years. When I told Ron the whole thing, I think he understood.

But here I am now, finally having my own reservations, based on Mom’s current situation. Let me be clear: I am so pleased with the photos taken by the staff at MCR, which are then posted to their Facebook page. I like being able to see Mom and knowing what activities she’s participating in. I’m glad MCR does it. Following their Facebook page lets me check in on Mom from 145 miles away.

But what I do is different. I usually use the photos I take of Mom as part of posting sarcastic, snarky, sometimes irreverent things here on TIE O’ THE DAY. Before taking the photos, I sometimes give Mom a bow tie or silly hat to wear, and she’s always been a sport about it. In fact, there have been times when I’ve visited her or she’s stayed with us when she’s excitedly said things like “When do I get my tie? When are we going to take our picture?” or “Are you going to take our tie picture? Do I need a hat?” And, of course, after I’d post a “tie picture,” I made sure to read her the Facebook responses and the list of folks who sent their LIKE’s. She has always found the whole process quite joyous.

Here’s my quandary. At this point, Mom sometimes doesn’t quite have her bearings. Her mind is sometimes confused. She forgets. Recently, I pulled out a tie for her to wear for our “tie picture” and she asked me, “Now what am I doing with this tie? Why are we doing this?” Mom is not a prop. I know you all like seeing photos of her. Posts with her photos always get the most Facebook LIKE’s. But I refuse to take or post a picture of Mom if she doesn’t know why I’m doing it, and hasn’t okayed it– in her all-there mind. I won’t do it without her permission. And I know y’all wouldn’t want me to.

On the other hand, what do I do if Mom brings it up, and asks to do it? Can I trust her “permission” now, even in those moments when she seems completely in charge of her faculties. I suppose I will have to decide on a case-by-case basis.

What I do still feel entirely comfortable doing is posting old pictures of Mom, taken throughout her life. I can write posts that reflect them. I am equally sure Mom is/would be amused with how I put ties and bow ties on the photos. She would not find that disrespectful. Mom had and still has her sense of humor.

Most of you are Mom’s friends. Some of you have been friends with Mom before you became friends with me. I’m sure some of you have recently had my same concerns. Just know that if I do post a more current picture or two of Mom, be assured that I spent time thinking about whether it would truly be ok with her for me to do so. Ultimately, that judgment falls on me, and I don’t take that responsibility lightly.

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Mom Is Very Quiet Here With Us Today

Mom likes the color orange. It was a no-brainer to pick the Bow Tie o’ the Day I am wearing to type this post, which covers the time I spent at MCR, aka, the Care Center, with Mom yesterday. I didn’t get to spend enough time with Mom. Never do. Never will. So I dug out this photo of Mom in her mid-teens, and Skitter and I are hanging with her again today, if only in photograph spirit.

I don’t tell Mom when I’m coming to visit. I just arrive in her doorway. I would hate it if I told her when I’d be there, and then something came up to make me unable to show up then. I’m not big on canceling on Mom. Nor should any of us be big on missing appointments with our elders. Anyhoo…

When Skitter and I entered Mom’s pad, Mom had just gotten back from breakfast and was under her covers, prepped for her post-breakfast/pre-lunch nap. Skitter knew a good situation when she saw one. She immediately jumped right up on the bed, curled into Mom’s side, and told me to leave them both alone to doze.

Skitter felt so much more confident and at ease at MCR on her second visit. She did not shake or shiver this time, even when people spoke to her or petted her. Skitter was able to keep it at a low vibrate. Skitter is such a hit with the residents she’s met that there is no way in heck I would dare show my face at MCR without being accompanied by her. We’re a team.

My cousin, Gina Diaz, and her daughter Haylee dropped in to check on Mom while I was there. General nuttiness and storytelling ensued. I don’t know if we three Wright old broads entertained Haylee or if we scared her. We laughed, chuckled, chortled, guffawed, snort-laughed, etc. When we get going, we cause all of the various types of laughter. Gina asked me to model my new cape, which I did. Both sides! And a few minutes after Gina and Haylee left MCR, I called myself a very bad word in my head. I was angry I hadn’t thought to capture Gina and Haylee with me and Mom in a TIE O’ THE DAY photo. Next time.

While at MCR, my Sister Who Wishes To Remain Nameless (SWWTRN), and I and Skitter attended a little meeting with Mom. Apparently, at MCR each resident (and the resident’s family) has a casual, but documented, meeting with those who are ultimately responsible for each aspect of their care: meds, nutrition, counseling, etc. At these gatherings, residents are asked if they have any comments, complaints, issues, suggestions, etc. that need to be addressed in order to improve their care, as well as to improve the total MCR experience itself. (I assume MCR does this with the residents at regular intervals. I need to ask about that.) Mom has no complaints about MCR whatsoever, and she gave only high praise to those in charge of her. She loves the MCR experience.

While we waited in the lobby for Mom’s MCR meeting to begin, she was antsy. She asked, “Did I do something wrong? Was I supposed to fill out a paper?” No, Mom. I and my SWWTRN tried to settle her. I mean, she wasn’t upset, but she wasn’t relaxed about it either. She was a bit apprehensive probably because it was her first meeting. We tried to explain the purpose of the meeting was for her and those in charge of her care to check-in with each other about how things are working. I had to actually say these words to bring Mom down a notch: “Mom, they aren’t going to kick you out.”

When the conference room door opened for us to go into the meeting, a half-dozen or so MCR staff members were waiting for us at a long table. Mom jokingly asked them what she was being called on the carpet for doing. I told Mom she’d be fine if she just acted like she was there to get her Temple Recommend.

The meeting went smashingly. Mom is not kicked out of the Care Center. So far. I did tell her she forgot to complain about all the sexual harassment she has to endure at MCR. She said it was ok she forgot to mention that. She must not mind it. (har, har, har)

I must also report that Skitter enjoyed sitting-in on Mom’s meeting immensely, although she chose not to contribute to the discussion. She’s shy, you know.

FYI The next post will be about the reason I will no longer take lots of photos of Mom, for these posts.

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A Bow Tie For Physical Therapy

Fear not! The next post will regale you with tales of my visit with Mom at MCR yesterday. First, I gotta head out to my rotator cuff physical therapy, and I thought you might be interested to know wood Bow Tie o’ the Day goes through my PT regimen with me.

You’ve seen me wear ties and bow ties with my t’s and tanks, and I simply wear them tied/hooked around my collarless, naked neck. But I thought there must also be other, less neck-sweaty ways to wear my neckwear with collarless shirts. Found one! If I wear a t-shirt or tank top, these wood bow ties which attach to your shirt with magnets are just the ticket. I have a handful of wood-and-magnet bow ties which work effectively and fashionably for just such occasions, including physical therapy. CAUTION: DO NOT WEAR MAGNETIC WOOD BOW TIES IN MRI MACHINES! Doh!

One day last week, I forgot to attach one of these groovy bow ties to my t-shirt before I went to physical therapy. When I walked through the front door of the PT office, the receptionist told me she would need to see my ID before she would allow me past her to the therapy equipment. “Or,” she said, “you can come back in a bow tie to prove you are who you say you are.”

That means I’m famous, right?

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Good Thing I Took ‘Em To Her

Skitter and I and my slim-line Bow Tie o’ the Day had a blast visiting Mom in her MCR bachelorette pad earlier today. One of the first things Mom said to me and The Skit when we arrived was, “I need my sunglasses so I can see.” I handed Mom her usual shades from her table and she was convinced they weren’t her sunglasses, even though they were. She said they didn’t fit right. That was my cue.

Voila! I immediately pulled these bow tie-shaped shades from inside my cape, and Mom grabbed them heartily– as if she’d owned and protected them forever. Honestly, when I bought these sunglasses for her I didn’t know if she would actually like them. I knew I could get a jolly Mom-bow-tie-photo out of it, but I had no idea she would take to them so easily and so much. (The bow tie doesn’t fall far from the tree?) Mom wore them during our entire visit. And one of my MCR spies has already let me know that Mom is still wearing the bow tie spectacles, even as I prepare to post this from my house in Centerville.

I lost count of how many folks at MCR complimented Mom on how snazzy her new sunglasses look. I was especially grateful to Skitter for having had the presence of mind to remind me to put the speshul shades in the car before we headed out to Delta this morning. Saved by the Skitter!

Tomorrow, I’ll post more about our MCR playtime with Mom. I’m too exhausted from the quick roundtrip to do any further thinking.

BTW Skitter’s visit with Mom was just the thing her little doggie-highness needed. She got a part of her Skit-spark back.

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A Car Ride To The Country

Here’s Mom from the mid-70’s. Our living room. Dad’s green chair, which had to be reupholstered and re-springed half-a-dozen times because he liked it so well he refused to get a new chair for his old butt. Mom’s reading either The Salt Lake Tribune or The Chronicle. Isn’t her freshly done hair boo-tee-ful? And if I remember correctly, here she’s showing off her new ring and watch, which Dad gave her. (I tacked on Bow Tie o’ the Day. Duh!)

Skitter and I are jumping in the car in about ten minutes to drive a couple of hours to our old Delta stomping grounds to see this regal Queen. We’ll certainly report our findings. I think the trip will perk up Skitter’s current blah’s. And mine. That’s what Mom does, whether she’s trying to or not.

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Another Safe Photograph

I thought Bow Tie o’ the Day and I should follow-up this morning’s clean post photo with another super-duper wholesome picture this afternoon, just in case Suzanne is still touchy about the January 5th morning post photo, which she considers to be exposing too many square inches of my pale, pale skin. How scandalous of me!

Here I am, snapped with my Kodak Handle Instant camera, back in the same days of the crazy sleepovers and my mooning. I am showing off my car door. It’s not my car door which belonged to my car. It’s my car door, which I rescued and took home. I found it in the middle of a gravel road in Sugarville. It looked so forlorn laying there all by itself, with its fair share of life’s rust, scratches, and dents. I thought it only right that I should be a Good Samaritan and provide it with shelter and love, so I adopted it. You have to understand: this was during the early-/mid-70’s– the era of pet rocks– so a pet car door didn’t seem all that outlandish to me. Occasionally, I drove it uptown to one of the gas stations, where I would unload it by my car and wash its window, to provide amusement for folks dragging Main. The car door’s window relished getting the squeegee treatment.

My car door lived with me until I went to college, where I couldn’t take it with me. I re-homed it before I left Delta, in 1981. I drove it out West to a farm near where I’d found it, where it could live out its earthly existence running fast and free in the fields of the Lord.

[FYI Skitter is a bit more active today, but not much. She stays zonked-out under her pile of blankets like she’s hibernating. She did decide to accompany me on the walk to the mailboxes late this afternoon. She hasn’t cared to go for a walkie for a few days, so that’s a getting-better sign. Skitter thanks you for the positive vibes you’ve sent her way. We think they’re helping.]

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It Finally Happened

I can’t believe it. I guess I did it. And it surprised me. I pushed Suzanne to her limit. Suzanne got upset about a photo I posted here. I didn’t mean to get her out of kilter about anything, but she got that way anyway. It was the photo from the morning of January 5th, when I was wishing Georgia Grayson Wadsworth a merry birthday. Even though I posted it a few days ago, Suzanne didn’t bring it up until yesterday.

If you recall, the pic had been taken at one of the infamous sleeping parties I hosted in the 70’s. It shows Georgia surprising me while I’m on the potty, while someone else takes the picture (and I’m sure it was Tauna). It’s an innocuous photograph, if you ask me. All you can see is my naked thigh. And a little bit of the naked almost-behind my thigh. But Suzanne was not pleased with me so wantonly putting it out in cyber land for all to see.

To me, it was the bathroom wallpaper that was so hideous and offensive about the scene. I almost didn’t post the snapshot because of it.

I told Suzanne posting the picture was really not a bigly deal, since I was a prolific mooner in the Delta environs during those years, so almost all Deltans had seen my butt anyway. She was kinda not amused. “Disturbing” is the word she used.

I’ve got her settled down now. This morning she got ready for work without bringing it up again. I dashed out of the house to get to my physical therapy appointment ASAP. I headed out long before I needed to leave, because I wanted to escape the house before Suzanne even had a chance to bring it up. She has not texted me about the whole hullaballoo, so I’m probably safe now. She’s most likely moved on.

Anyhoo… I figured I should post a completely, absolutely innocent photo– with an equally innocent Bow Tie o’ the Day. Just to be safe. Suzanne cannot quibble with a photograph of Helen, Sr. and baby Helen.

[Hey, check out Mom’s curlers. I think she still has the very same set.]

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We Don’t Know Why

I decided to wear this Tie o’ the Day in order to be sorta blendy with my shirt. Not matchy, just blendy. Today, I’m playing the clash as low-key as I know how to play it, because Skitter is ailing and I don’t want to add any loudness to the vibes of the house.

The tiny part of Skitter’s face you see here in the photo is pretty much all we’ve seen of her for the past three days. She hasn’t wholeheartedly performed her “chew dance.” She hasn’t even finished eating her daily chew treats. She’s kept herself in her beds, under her Suzanne-made blankets. She does, however, seem to want to do her convalescing right next to me or Suzanne. She has to be close enough to reach out at least one of her long legs to constantly touch one of us. Her paws are pokey.

We don’t have a clue what’s got Skitter down. She doesn’t limp when she walks. She’s not throwing up. I felt around in her mouth, and her teeth and gums seem fine– stinky but fine. She’s not the kind of mutt who digs though garbage cans so I doubt she’s eaten some dangerous food scrap. I also don’t think she has Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD).

On the other hand, dogs can sometimes sense somethin’s up. Dogs get vibes. The Dog of My Life, the late Araby, once physically and literally saved me from suicide. Araby had passionate, heightened senses when it came to knowing and watching over me.

The mind-meld Araby and I shared also made Araby an excellent editor of my writing. I used to read drafts of my poems to her, and I could tell by how she moved her facial muscles as I read whether a poem needed more work, or whether it was worthy of being sent out for publication. Not one poem Araby okayed was ever rejected for publication. Araby got me. And she got what I was trying to say in my writing. Hell, sometimes I don’t even get me, let alone get what I write.

Dogs get it. They compute. They sometimes call us on the b.s. they see us pull. They can save us from our own mis-steps. Some dogs have better intuition than others, just like some people do, but they all feel us to some extent. So how could Skitter not be hip to the shifts in my bipolar tectonic plates? Poor thing.

Knowing Skitter as well as I do, I’m confident my current mental state is not what’s making her feel icky. I’m sure she’s aware of my crazy head, and I’m sure she worries a bit about me right now. I have no doubt she senses my current depression, but she’s never joined me on my bipolar arc before, so I don’t think she’s following in my head’s swinging now. I think she simply has some kind of doggie flu bug in her system. She’ll be prancing to the mailbox again alongside me and my pendulum head any day now. And I’m hoping it’s tomorrow.

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The More Things Change, The More Things Change

TIE O’ THE DAY took the Sabbath off. We slept in, then binge-watched IN PLAIN SIGHT, and then it was time for dinner at the in-law’s. We drove over to their house, even though they live only about three blocks way. We always drive there, and I think it’s ridiculous that we do that. But we do it anyway. What lazy butts we have. We always come up with an excuse not to walk there. Yesterday, we decided it was too cold to hoof it over. Our excuses are rarely good ones, but that doesn’t matter to us.

Bow Tie o’ the Day has a classic Tiffany glass design. It’s a beauty. I wore it for the express purpose of showing you my latest interior design construction: a trail of ascending/descending books. As a lover of books, I named this the Stairway the Heaven. I design with books, and I thought I’d try this books-on-the-stairs look. It is visible the minute you walk in the front door, and people who’ve come into the house seem to like it. It’s eye-catching because it’s unexpected. FYI It leaves ample room to walk up and down the stairs, which is the most important concern. Safety first!

We are always running short on bookshelves, so I guess I’ve just given up. I try to find other places for the library to live. At some point, there’s no more wall space for more shelves, so I’m making do. So far, Suzanne has been mostly okay with my book spots. She is, however, tiring of the twenty books stacked on the toilet tanks in each bathroom. I can tell she’s had it with that. But, really, I never know exactly what I’m going to want to read when I’m bathing or am otherwise occupied in the bathroom, so I like a large selection handy. I say the books stay. And they will. Until Suzanne has finally had enough and moves them.

We don’t argue about stuff like that. Things like that just stay the way they are, until suddenly they are different. I’ll simply walk into the bathroom one day and the books will be gone. They will have been replaced with a knick-knack or doodad. That’s the clue that Suzanne’s patience with the towers has ended, and I better not put books there again. Well, okay then. Argument avoided about something that doesn’t really matter, in the scheme of things. Score.

Suzanne puts up with a lot, so I rarely have a problem with her sorta having the final word on house design matters. As long as something isn’t in the way of my antics or isn’t hideous, I’ll roll with it. Sometimes, I even know she wants to put something somewhere she won’t even mention. For example, I knew she wanted the Ultimate SewingBox in the living room, where we spend most of our time. But I also knew she would never in a bazillion years ask me if it was okay to put it there, since it hogs so much space and sewing machines are loud. I took it upon myself to suggest the idea and ask if she wanted to put it there. She was gleeful. That made me happy. The television volume does have to be deadly loud though.

Suzanne and I agree upon pretty much all of the bigly things. She even picked out our house without me when we were in the market six years ago and I had to be in Delta with Mom. Yes, we do have veto power over each other’s bigly decisions, but we rarely use it. Think about it: If you don’t agree about the bigly things with the person you live with, why are you even living with them?

Most disagreements aren’t about life-altering choices that might be more important to one person in a couple than the other. Most things don’t matter. Most arguments between couples are about small, unimportant things like who’s turn it is to do the dishes. We should all stop that. What’s wrong with us that we let the tiny, irritating stuff set the mood of a household? Do you really wanna come home to that?