Skitter sports this holiday Tie o’ the Day, as she acts as my yardstick for checking the snow accumulation outside our abode. We had hours of dizzying, robust snow last night. This afternoon, I plopped down Skitter and her long legs in various areas throughout the yard, as a purely scientific way to gather snow totals from the storm. The snow measurements I gathered with my yardSkitt were all in the range of 7 to 11 inches. Skitter did not willingly walk into the deepest spots, which is why I had to plop her down where I wanted her. The bigly-est snow offended her butt by merely skimming it. She did not even attempt to squat and relieve herself in the bigly-est snow. She managed to find a few areas of nearly bare skiffs of snow for that purpose, so we have only a couple of hard-to-see spots of shallow, yellow snow desecrating our otherwise pristinely glistening white yard. This outdoor whiteness is brighter than Crest 3D Whitestrips.❄️🏔🌨
Here’s Skitter in her first Christmas 2021 Tie o’ the Day. She was present, watching with doggie amusement when the following tale played out.
On the day after Thanksgiving, I was dizzy all day long. I’d get up to do something, and I’d sort of catch myself leaning and weaving as I gingerly made my way from place to place. At some point, I began to wonder if I’d started drinking again without my own knowledge. It was an odd feeling. But honestly, I was more curious than concerned about my wobbly state of equilibrium. I chalked it up to having eaten excessive amounts of cheese bread, tater tots, and green Jell-O the day before. Or maybe what I was experiencing was simply due to my age. I blame “getting older” for a plethora of inexplicable and/or idiosyncratic things that occur in, on, to, or anywhere near my body. I’m positive I’m mostly correct to direct blame at this culprit of time.
Anyhoo… It was the day after Thanksgiving, and Suzanne had her side of the love seat reclined so her recently operated-on foot could be constantly elevated. Her foot stuck out towards the middle of the living room like a sore thumb (har, har, har) the entire day. She was following her surgeon’s orders to stay off her hoof and be a couch potato slug. As the day wore on, so did my light-headed condition. So we spent the bulk of the holiday sitting safely on the love seat watching television. At one point, as I unsteadily walked across the living room to get something, I felt myself falling—slowly but surely—to the floor. To catch myself, I instinctively reached out and grabbed the nearest available object, which just happened to be Suzanne’s recently operated-on-and-still-throbbing, elevated foot which stuck out in the perfect spot to save me. Which it did. Which caused Suzanne to yelp out in pain. My apologies yelped out in response. I felt like the worst dizzy person on the face of the earth.
I saw it in my mind’s eye then: the tableau we had made at that very moment. Picture it yourself. Suzanne sitting in the love seat—footrest deployed. Her decades-worn foot elevated and iced, protruding into the center of the room. If she were moving, her joints would be creaking. She is cozily semi-swaddled in her Minky blanket because she has been perpetually cold for the last decade, no matter the temperature. Her reading glasses are perched perfectly on her nose, so she can sufficiently see what she’s currently embroidering. To conquer painful inflammation, a dishtowel-wrapped bag of frozen peas is draped like a too-tiny shawl around the back of Suzanne’s neck, which aches these days with an ever-increasing regularity.
Now picture my part in this tableau o’ long-settled domesticity. There I stand, on the verge of falling in my own living room. Babying my pancreas. Hand over my still-scabby surgical scar. My own eyeglasses on so I can focus better on increasingly blurry words, things, critters, and people. Full set o’ dentures in my mouth. Tinnitus blaring in my brain. Hearing aids like barnacles growing out of my ears. An amnesia haze developing about what it was I even crossed the room to do or retrieve in the first place. My balance weeble-wobbly, at best that day.
After I managed to sit my butt back down on the love seat to calm the adrenalin, I recognized the implications of the scene Suzanne and I had just made. I said to Suzanne, with all the exuberance I could muster, “It has happened! I think it’s official!” She asked me what I was talking about. I said, “Finally! When we were young, we talked about how nice it would be to achieve it. And after all these years—as of this very moment—I am certain we have accomplished it: We have officially grown old together!” Even with all manner of natural maladies which might accompany it, I can say it’s even better than I imagined it would be. It feels like home to me. 🛋 📺 👣 💝
I was going through photos on my phone this afternoon when I realized I had not yet posted anything about our bigly Thanks Feast of last week. I admit I had a cheese bread hangover for a couple of days after the event, and that’s the likely reason the documenting photos slipped my brain. Note this: Turkey Tie o’ Thanksgiving can also function as a handy bib!
Anyhoo… We stayed home this year for the holiday, so it was just me and Suzanne and the skittish Skitter for the entire day. When it’s like that, you know I have to put my spin on the traditional food offerings. I once again prepared food one item at a time, at various junctures throughout the day. I launched the festivities with the opening of the can o’ jellied cranberry and dumping it on a plate—thus, causing the traditional cranberry-blob-from-the-can-suck sound. And we were off.
We ate “canned”-ied yams and baby corn-on-the-cob and stuffing. At some point, Suzanne ate a whole can of olives. In lieu of mashed potatoes, I slaved away baking tater tots, which is one of Suzanne’s all-time fave potato creations to eat. (It’s true. When I’m in the proverbial doghouse with Suzanne, I just drag out the tater tots, and I am immediately forgiven.) We ate bow tie-shaped ham and turkey sammiches. There are no photos of the loaf of cheese bread I sculpted, because we were so busy eating it while it was warm that it would have been blasphemous to take up valuable eating time to find my phone or camera. And since we live in Utah, I served up green Jell-O—bow tie-shaped, too. Also, of course, we napped-and-snacked intermittently. For dessert that evening, I scooped up mounds of Dreyer’s pumpkin pie ice cream for us to snarf down until we were beyond full. Fortunately, we ate so much that I’m sure we won’t need another meal until Christmas—or possibly Easter. Yup. Mission accomplished.
Recently, Skitter has been suffering from fame withdrawal. She hasn’t been the star of any TIE O’ THE DAY posts since before I went into the hospital. It’s been weeks since she has basked in the limelight of her internet fame. Oh, it has been a tragic time of isolation for the poor little canine. Skitter’s soul needs the spotlight to again shine upon her fur, so I told her she could have this post. For her photo shoot, she slipped into her current favorite Tie o’ the Day, which happens to be her candy corn Halloween tie. The Skit is 2 cool 2B 4gotten! She is truly a star-caliber attention hog, and she has sorely missed showing off for y’all who are her fans.
I finally got to give Mom her birthday hugs, a few days after her actual birthaversary. Mom loves sunflowers, and I was able to find a snazzy Shirt Full o’ Sunflowers to wear for her. It only made sense for me to wear my bees Face Mask o’ the Day with it. In honor of Mom’s fun belief that she is a witch with always-sharpened broom, I donned my flying witches Tie o’ the Day. Mom also liked my pig earrings and my chicken Sloggers shoes, which I chose just for her. She’s such a farm girl.
I managed to find a soft batch of marshmallow Circus Peanuts, which is one of Mom’s fave store-bought treats. We opted to stick a birthday candle in one, so we could sing to Mom. She blew it out like a pro, despite her oxygen difficulties. Of course, she’s had 91 years of practice at blowing out birthday candles.
Mom was more “with it” and energetic than she has been recently. Even Skitter noticed it. Suzanne and I had a wonderful few hours of conversation with the old dame. I was so pleased with Mom’s improvement, and I give credit to the fine cast o’ folks at Millard Care and Rehab. They look out for Mom like she’s family, and it shows.
I often say that Mom was my first blessing, and it is still true. My gratitude for having Mom runneth over—still and always.
I have news! First—and most important—Millard Care and Rehab is once again open to visitors. I will be hugging Mom—live and in person—on her actual birthday this weekend. The old broad’s hugs and kisses have always been grand, but somehow they are especially dear to me since Mom has been in the care center. We can’t wait to see her. Skitter is already practicing her rendition of the “Happy Birthday” song for Mom.
The second bit o’ news I can give out to y’all is that my pancreas surgery has been officially re-scheduled. I’m scheduled to be going under the proverbial knife at Huntsman in mid-October. I do hope the operation doesn’t need to be pushed back again. I’m ready for this to be done, whatever the outcome. Cross your fingers, toes, and pancreases that the surgery will happen as scheduled.
You’re already looking at the third bit o’ news. Today, I purposely tried to match by going all houndstoothy with floppy houndstooth Bow Tie o’ the Day and houndstooth Face Mask o’ the Day. (I don’t think I own a houndstooth shirt, but don’t quote me on that. I must research it.) What really makes this extra-bigly news is that matching these two items of my attire did not even make me break out in hives or hyperventilate. Perhaps I’m finally growing up and out of my unconventional ways. But I doubt it.🤓
Skitter’s fruity Tie o’ the Day gives her a delicious look. Forgive me for thinking everyone must see Skitter regularly. Thank you for indulging me when I ask her to star on TIE O’ THE DAY. She constantly surprises me with her ladylike poses. She is blatantly demure and proper. I have no idea where she learned this civilized behavior. I do know she didn’t learn any of it from me.📸👔
Things started out so well this morning. I had a Zoom doctor appointment, for which I chose to wear my Bow Tie o’ the Day of red and white polka dots. Skitter chose to wear her oranges Tie o’ the Day. After my appointment, I then cooked myself a nice breakfast of a few teensy pork chops. While they were cooking away, I wrote a little poem I immediately shredded because it was mean-spirited, and I don’t really do mean-spirited. I needed to write it and get it out of my system, but nobody needs to read it and get all offended by what amounted to a passing mood I simply needed to work through in my own mind.
I ate my well-seared chops, but had one left over. I’m sure you know who had been staring politely at my fork throughout every bite of breakfast I had put in my mouth. Now, we make it a point to never feed Skitter people food. Except for all the times when we do. She was eyeing that left over pork chop like it was a pot o’ doggie gold, which I guess—to her—it was. Her nose sniffed the air more dramatically than Elizabeth Montgomery’s in BEWITCHED. C’mon, folks! How could I not put a tiny pork chop in her bowl? I had to do it—after I cut off all the fat, of course. So Skitter ate her chop in no time. Just as quickly, she curled up in her bed for her mid-morning nap.
Fast forward about three hours. Skitter’s bed sat right beside me as I got some reading done. And then it happened. It happened once, then twice. Skitter let pork chop doggie farts. Silent, but deadly. I finally put on my first Mask o’ the Day to save myself from the stench. It wasn’t enough. I put a second Mask o’ the Day over the first one. Two masks at a time seemed to do an adequate job of keeping me from passing out, as Skitter’s gas kept wafting through the room in invisible waves o’ danger. She’s never been a particularly gassy dog, but it’s clear she is getting older, and so are her pipes. No more pork chops for The Skit, no matter how much she enjoys them. Even as I type this, she is sound asleep in her mid-afternoon nap—probably dreaming of bacon—and farting with gusto all the while. 🐶😷
This is one of my fave wood Bow Ties o’ the Day. I tend to wear it when I’m on vacation. It helps me see the sights better. I have missed wearing it since the pandemic began, which is when we quit vacationing, of course. Today, I decided to dust Bow Tie off and make some plans. I’m looking into some far away escapades I’m sure I’ll tell y’all about in the near future.
Last evening, we had one HAIL of a late-summer thunderstorm! It was wet, and loud, and flashy, and the petrichor smell was as wonderful as it has ever been. The hail was itself a plunking wonder on the outdoor furniture. We paid a lot of attention to the stormy shebang because Skitter was not just skittish about the storm: Skitter was petrified into a ball in her bed. I covered her with her blanket and explained to her that any doggie blanket made by Suzanne is impenetrable by both bad weather and monsters, so she would be completely safe under it. I think her brain believed me, but her thunder-hearing, hail-hearing ears were skeptical. The storm didn’t cause any real damage, but it managed to cause our DirecTV to lose its signal even before the first raindrop fell. I am always mystified that the tv signal can travel all the way to and from satellites in space with no problem, but it can’t make it through raindrops and snowflakes. 📺⛈☔️
I’m off to Huntsman again, for another pre-surgery appointment, and to take care of a ream of paperwork. Here’s a bigly photo gallery of Skitter crossing her front legs/paws. She is so proper and stately. I’ve had a gaggle o’ dogs over the years, but Skitter is the only dog I’ve had who makes it a near-obsession to cross her paws in gentility when she sits or sleeps. She is civilized, and she wants everyone to see it. And before you even ask, the answer is, “Yes, she does stick out her pinky-pad when she drinks her tea.”
BTW In one of these photos, Skitter somehow manages to get one of her hind legs into the front leg/paw crossing. She’s remarkable.
