Author: wetleatherdog@gmail.com

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It’s Tubular, Dude!

The CT scan-folk let me wear this morning’s bow tie during my scan. We survived, unscathed. This Bow Tie o’ the Day, however, fears anything medical. CT’s are easy, cuz the tube is short. You stick out. MRI’s are another matter. You’re slid into that long tube, and you ain’t gettin’ out. I’m not claustrophobic, but I close my eyes and pretend I’m on a sandy beach, to forget I’m in a tube. Also, with MRI’s, my nose always itches during the entire test. Scratching is impossible, and it’s forbidden anyway. 🏖

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Just Like Education, It’s All About The Tests

“Berry smoothie”? Not! But Bow Tie o’ the Day is hangin’ loose to help me drink the nasty contrast. I’m off to get a CT scan on my stooopid pancreas (my Hanky Panky). A loose bow tie helps me relax. Trust me: it works better than Xanax to keep any possible panic attacks away during testing. I’m a pro at taking medical tests in relation to my Hanky Panky. No worries. I simply have to keep the ol’ pancreas minding its own business. Pretend this is a pancreas emoji: ☄

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The Thing Speaks For Itself

Bow Tie o’ the Day wants a tattoo, and I am adamant that it will not happen. One thing I don’t allow is for paisley to be covered up by anything at all. As for me, I have a few tats. My first tat, which is shown here, is my fave-rave. I got it stabbed into my arm in 1989. I couldn’t decide exactly what design would suit me for my entire life, so I decided the best thing to do was to get precisely what I wanted: a TATTOO. 💪 🔪

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I Can Hear Me Now

Bow Tie o’ the Day has made a pal of my new gadget. They are inseparable. The first thing I learned about these ear things is that they’re not called hearing “aids” anymore. My ear doc made that very clear. I thought he was going to bite my deaf ear off about that. No, they are called hearing “devices.” Sorry, doc, I didn’t mean to offend anyone by my device-ism. But the DEVICE feels comfortable. The test will be how often I have to say “Huh?” to Suzanne.

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I’m Just Here For The Ride

Bow Tie o’ the Day and Skitter both asked why I’d take a picture which would force y’all post readers to see up my nostrils. I kinda wondered that too, but it was the only way I could catch me and Skitter in the same shot, while remaining in my seatbelt. Skitter doesn’t get travel sick. But she holds her head up the entire journey, as if she has to supervise our driving. She’s intense about it, and immediately falls over to sleep– exhausted– when we arrive at our destination. Can anyone say TIPPED COW?

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Leaving, Not On A Jet Plane

Bow Tie o’ the Day isn’t happy we’re leaving St. George. Back to the rat race. Mom’s riding with us for part of our trek. We’re dropping her off in Oak City so she can visit her sister for the day, until Ron and Marie pick her up on their way home from Boise. They’ll be back here, where they can look at this jersey on their wall. Their son, Ron, played minor league baseball for a decade. He ended his career in The Bigs, with the Mariners. ⚾

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This Sew Ain’t Unusual

Bow Tie o’ the Day and I are simply used to it by now. We drive five hours to Dixie– to Mom-sit and vacay– and Suzanne drags her sewing machine along. She’s working on a quilt, and I guess it couldn’t wait a few days until we return home. To be fair, crafting/sewing of any kind is like a vacation for Suzanne. She vacations to Craftville almost every evening. I have never seen the surface of our dining table because it’s covered with sewing machines, and with every crafty, sew-y thingamabob sold at JOANN’S and MOM’S CRAFTS.

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Mom’s On Deck

Bow Tie o’ the Day tried mightily, but the deck is as close as we could get Mom to the pool. I guess she won’t be skinny-dipping. She’d rather watch us swim, and watch Skitter sunbathe. Maybe next visit Mom’ll dive in. Of course, she’ll have to have her walker bob with her. 🏊‍♀️ 🐕 Because we’ve been trying to entice Mom into the pool, and we had a massage this morning, Bow Tie and I are late posting. I’m sure you were all worried we would never, ever post again. 😜

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BACON Is Never A Bad Word

Bacon Tie o’ the Day needs no words. Mom and I talked today about “bad words”– the words we weren’t allowed to say around her when we were kids. For Mom, the B-word was BRAT. The F-word was FART. The S-word was SHUT UP. The D-word was DUMB– as in, you never call someone DUMB. We could use her G-word, which was GADFREE. Of course, we couldn’t use the “real” bad words either. But, really– I ask you: How does a little kid not say FART?

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Mom Knows The Score

Bow Tie o’ the Day chilled with us inside the house, cuz the wind o’ St. George gusted so mightily that I thought we were actually in Delta. Thus, no splashing in the pool. I tapped out a post. Suzanne cut quilt squares. Mom dozed in front of Game 1 of the NBA Finals. When I raised the iPhone to snap our mugs, Mom fretted, “I don’t have my face on!” But I have a rule: Mom must be in post pics, whenever possible. I snapped her face in shadows, and she was pleased with it.