On The Plus Side

Pumpkin skull and crossbones Bow Tie o’ the Day was a hit at the deli this afternoon. Bigly spiderweb Face Mask o’ the Day got a few compliments, too. I was mostly occupied in my head with praising today’s rain showers. To me, Fall rain means it’s time to dig through the closet and find my fedora. It is now the fedora time o’ year. 🎩 (Please, pretend the top hat is a fedora.)

Don’t Be Askeered

I took this selfie at Harmon’s in Farmington, where I was grocery shopping. After I got home and looked at the photos to choose one to post, I got a bit skeered myself. The spiders/spider webs Bow Tie o’ the Day and the carved pumpkin Face Mask o’ the Day were both fun-looking enough on their own, but my so-pale-I’m-glowing skin looked like I had whitewashed my face before heading out to shop. Put it all together and I unwittingly achieved a sort of Lon-Chaney-in-Phantom-o’-the-Opera look. Kinda shocking when you’re not expecting it, eh? Needless to say, no shopper in the store dared to come down any aisle where I pushed my cart. I felt magic. It was a quiet and pleasant shopping venture—except for a toddler who caught a glimpse of my face, immediately screamed, and then began to cry. Yup, this look is just not family-friendly. But I still stand by the killer fashion, of course. 🕸🕷🎃💀

The Scalpel Is Sharpened

Wood John Lennon-style glasses Bow Tie o’ the Day accompanied me to my pre-surgery doctor appointment yesterday. My surgeon tells me she is confident that I will not be asked to re-schedule again, barring an earthquake or declaration of war in SLC. So, it’s official: I will be surgically gutted one week from today. I will be ever so glad to finally get it done, even though I never wanted to get it done in the first place. My dang stoopid Cranky Hanky Panky must be taught a lesson. I told my surgeon she has my permission to give my pancreas a good spanking when she opens me up and gets her hands on it. 👩‍⚕️💉

It’s A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood

Here I am in my fake-pearl bulldogger Tie o’ the Day, after Skitter and I had spent the afternoon at the playground shown in the background. Skitter is a marvel on the slide, but she moves so quickly I can never capture her ballet-like descent in a photo. And so, all you get is another selfie of me and my bald head.

Mom Rules The World

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.

Hey, I Look Like Uncle Fester Again!

Striped Bow Tie o’ the Day and I are aware that growing older can sometimes be jolting. More often than not, growing older means making a series of unanticipated small adjustments. Take closed captioning, for example. You know it’s a service that lives somewhere there in your television’s settings, but you never think about it. You go decades without ever contemplating turning the CC setting to ON. Think about how many televisions you’ve owned in your adult life, and then think about how many of them you turned on the CC for. I’m guessing most of you folks have never used that service. A few of you older ladies and gentlemen might admit that the CC on your current tv gets some use. I certainly never imagined I’d be using CC, but now I freely admit that I always have the CC setting on, and CC it’s on all 3 of our tv’s. It’s a godsend for me. But using it happened sort of by accident. And it’s just another thing in my life that is all Mom’s fault.

A few years ago, each time Mom would stay with us, we noticed we had to consistently crank up the tv volume in order for her to hear what was happening on screen. Adding to the noise pollution in the living room was the fact that Mom and I were always having a conversation over the tv sound. One evening Mom was sitting on the couch and Suzanne and I were siting on the love seat watching who-knows-what on the turned-way-up tv. Mom and I were loudly chatting/yelling up a storm about some relative or other, and I turned to say/yell something to Suzanne. OMGolly! Suzanne’s face was frozen by all the Mom/me/TV noise. She was pale and petrified. She was afraid to move. I quickly diagnosed her problem. I got really close to Suzanne’s ear and calmly said, “Run for the stairs. Go up to the bedroom and close the door. Don’t come down until Mom’s asleep and there is no noise except her snoring.” That’s when I knew something had to be done. Mom wouldn’t consider getting hearing aids. So I found the CC setting, and turned it to ON whenever Mom visited. I still had to yell slightly to talk to Mom, but I didn’t have to out-yell the too-loud tv, so Suzanne’s ears didn’t get injured enough to make her catatonic anymore.

As my own hearing sputtered with age, and after one of Mom’s later visits with us, I left the CC setting to ON for a week or so. I found I liked it. We’ve had it on for years now. Between my hearing aids and the closed captioning, the tv volume is able to be in a normal range. I tell you this long story of CC because—for some unknown reason—for the past two weeks, the CC on my tv is discombobulated on one of its lines. In between working properly, it gives basically the same wrong “translation” over and over, no matter what is said on the tv: “Hmm, 1 des0erate need.” It does it on every channel, no matter what I’m watching. At first, I thought, “Oh, goody! It’s a secret code for me to figure out.” Then it just got annoying.

And so I’m griping. I’m not griping about being old enough to find comfort in the joys of closed captioning. I’m griping that this service I never dreamed I would ever need is not working. I made the adjustment of letting myself come to count on it, and recently I can’t. It gives me a headache to go back and forth between the correctly captioned words and then the stoopid “Hmm, 1 des0erate need.” I’ve had to jack up the tv sound again. I’m sure it’s a temporary thing, and CC will be back to normal soon. But until then, every once in a while, I swear I can hear my own voice in my own head turn very crotchety and spoiled and dramatic, and say, “They need to fix this right this minute. Don’t they realize how many of us old farts depend on CC? This is not fair.” Yeah, cuz malfunctioning closed captioning is the bigliest problem in the whole wide world right now.📺🤓

And Then Life Happened

A funny thing happened on the way to see Mom on her 91st birthday yesterday. Well, I guess it wasn’t a funny thing, and we never really got on our way. The car was packed with birthday stuff and Skitter’s bed, but my stoopid Cranky Hanky Panky decided it wasn’t in the mood to drive 300 miles in one day—not for me, not for Mom, not for any reason. I’ve argued with my stoopid pancreas often over the last two decades, and I can usually talk it into cooperating at least a little bit when it’s truly important. But not yesterday. Nope. I couldn’t wrestle my panky into compliance in any way, shape, or form. I even stooped so low as to promise my Cranky Hanky Panky I wouldn’t make it go through its surgery next month, if it would just be nice enough to lay low so we could visit Mom on her birthday. My stoopid pancreas knew I was lying. So I guess it’s not so stoopid after all. It got all the attention yesterday. And I didn’t get to go to Deltaville for Mom’s bigly day.

I have heard Mom had a bunch of guests drop by. I’ve heard she had a wonderful time. BT/Mercedes sent me this photo of Mom enjoying herself. I’m trying not to feel bad about not getting to be there, but I do. As soon as I can get my stoopid pancreas in gear, I’m taking a second 91st birthday to her.🎂🎈🎁

Mom’s Birthday Eve

I have no clue why I felt like wearing my St. Louis wood Bow Tie o’ the Day, but I don’t have time to figure it out right now. Tomorrow is Mom’s 91st birthday, and Miss Tiffany squeezed me into her salon schedule so I could get a fresh hairscut. I wouldn’t want to disappoint Mom, who expects such things of me and my hairs.

Dressing For Mom’s B-day

I thought maybe I should shop for a new outfit to wear to visit Mom on her birthday this weekend. My first high-style shopping started exactly where it always does: I consulted with VOGUE magazine. That’s where I discovered this toasty number. You’ll note that the sweater’s neck is so high that I won’t even need to wear a separate Face Mask o’ the Day. When she sees me wearing this, Mom will be surprised only by the fact I’m wearing heels. 👠

Quick Update On Some Miscellany

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.🤓