Yesterday I got a lot of bisque glazed (the kiln is loaded and ready to fire tomorrow) and got some yarn dyed. I’ll be bringing in a new base in … wait, let me check my schedule… middle-to-end of February, and I want to have a good selection of it dyed and wound by then. I don’t know how well it’s going to do because it’s a little different and a little pricey, so I only bought 15 skeins of it. I’ve dyed 13, and am keeping two in reserve for custom orders or in case something sells out the first minute and I want to replace it. Now I just need to wait for everything to dry, and rewind it, and label it, photograph it, and BAM. Ready to go when it comes up on my calender.

Today I will be wrapping soap, as I’m taking in some restocks to Wild Iris later today. And it’s spinning night, so I’m going to The Iris early to get everything priced and on the shelves before breaking out my spinning wheel. Oh, and meeting a friend for lunch. Mmmmm, Big Apple salad. Mmmmmmmmm.

Right, then. Time to top off this coffee and get to wrapping!

Well, if I’m awake, I might as well fire the kiln, right? I finished glazing things yesterday, but thought I wouldn’t have time to fire the kiln today because we have a party to go to that starts at 4 in the afternoon and I didn’t want to get up at 5AM to start the kiln. JOKE’S ON ME.

Yesterday I put out some Internet fires – really, nothing makes me see a white-hot rage like injustice; doubly so when the person being crapped on is someone whom I care about and feel protective towards. So I wrote a few words, and those words gave her a voice, and now people are backing down, apologizing, and stepping up to help. Justice has been served, along with a steaming cup of SHUT THE FUCK UP and a healthy dish of EAT YOUR WORDS, BITCHES.

I also made some soap, dyed some yarn, and glazed some bisque. And listed about 15 or so items on my Etsy shop because I still had about half a dozen soaps and about that many ceramics I was sitting on, and as I’ve decided to take a little time “off” (the airquotes are there because do I ever really take time off?!) I wanted to get everything I had sitting around up and listed. Then in January I will start fresh.

I need to pour some molds. I can’t pour them because there is yarn drying above where I pour. The yarn won’t dry because it’s been rainy.

Sigh.

At least the view is pretty.

Our Thanksgiving plans were changed, as Amy said on Tuesday night that Isaac was pretty sick. We were welcome to still come down, but … neither Tim nor I wanted to risk catching it if he was still contagious on Wednesday. So I had a minor meltdown when we were discussing playing it by ear and if he was better by Friday, going down Saturday early morning and coming back late Sunday instead. But the dog’s kennel reservations were from Wednesday through Sunday morning, and I didn’t want to put the dogs in the kennel if we weren’t going, as Bridgett is old and… well, you know. I already have to lift her into the car to get her to and from the kennel, and I poke her five or six times a day to make sure she’s still breathing, and if anything… happened… and she was in the kennel and we wound up not going anywhere…? I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself. I mean, look at this old face.

The rest of my 2011 daily photos can be viewed here.

On Monday, we got the kittens fixed. I guess technically they are no longer “kittens,” being both 18 months old and fixed… but they’re younger than the other two cats so until we get new kittens in about ten years, they will be “the kittens.” ANYWAY. Bridgett didn’t seem to miss them while they were gone all day, but the minute we brought them back in (stoned off their asses, the funny things) she just kept going over to the boxes to sniff at them and make sure they were OK.

The rest of my 2011 daily photos can be viewed here.

If you had asked me a little over two years ago, I would have said that Bridgett was fast on her way out. Tim and I talked it over and as having a “backup dog” was very important to me (much less sad than getting a “replacement dog”) we went ahead and got Corwin. On September 27th, 2008, as Flickr tells me. Our bet, due to a large tumor that Bridgett had on her rump and how not fast she was moving, was that she maybe had about six months. That would give her enough time to help train the backup dog, just as Heidi helped to train Bridgett when she was young and a backup dog. (Heidi was a backup dog for BJ, who was a backup dog for Jackie, who was an Original Dog in about… 1983 or so. We’d had other dogs before Jackie, but not in a number of years. For those who are trying to do the math in their heads, counting Corwin that’s five dogs in 28 years. There was much overlap; it’s not like a dog died every 5.6 years!)

ANYWAY.

Clearly I don’t want to talk about Bridgett being sick.

One of the reasons we wanted a backup dog, a reason we thought it might be soon, is that a couple of times Bridgett just… she would get up from a nap and not be able to walk very well. Clearly in pain and hunched over, she would limp around. It would take her almost two minutes to stand up. It would take her more than five minutes to walk across the house from my office to the bedroom, and she’d have to stop five or six times in order to do it. She wouldn’t sit down – she’d just… stop. Hunched. Maybe a little grunt or a small whine. And the giant cracking sound of my heart shattering into a thousand pieces.

Slowly over the next 24 hours or so she’d move faster, hunch less, look less in pain.

And then it would pass. She’d be fine.

I mentioned this to my vet, and he thought it might be arthritis and that she’d just stiffened up while napping – which she does for hours upon hours. He said to start her on an aspirin a day and to call him any time if she was having one of those spells because he really wanted to see her walk.

Well, she had a spell on Thursday, and I was pretty sure that he didn’t work on Fridays but I called him anyway. At almost 5, because unfortunately that’s when she woke up from her nap, and even more unfortunately I needed to get to the post office and to Wild Iris for spinning. This time it seemed even worse, though, so I was worried. Not worried that I was going to have to make The Decision. The Decision is both easy and hard, and I’ve already made it. Animals can’t tell you, you know? They can’t tell you when they’ve had enough. All they can do is love you and trust that you, the pack leader, will make the best decision for them. When Heidi was diagnosed with cancer, and they said they could prolong her life by about six months with an operation *but* she wouldn’t be able to walk any more, I had her put to sleep right then. That’s no life for a dog; not for a 16-year old 60-lb dog. If she was young, and small enough that I could carry her (or if I could get her one of these) then hell yes I would have prolonged her life; but she hadn’t moved, hadn’t eaten, hadn’t had any water in days and was clearly in pain. I’m not so self-centered that I’d keep a dog around for me if it’s that hard for them. And I would make the same decision for Bridgett in a heartbeat. EXCEPT. She gets better within hours. Sometimes I think she’s just fucking with my heart.

ANYWAY.

Dr. Camp called me while I was at Wild Iris, and I rushed home to meet him and we could see what needed to be done. Every time Bridgett has one of these spells, I think this is it, this is the time. And this time she looked so pained, so hurt, so pathetic… I just… well. Anyway. Only when I got home, Dr. Camp wasn’t there yet, but Tim had come home and let both dogs out in the back yard and didn’t think that Bridgett was moving any slower than normal.

AUGH.

When the vet got there, though, and watched her as I made her walk back and forth across the room, he agreed that she was not as sprightly as normal. He prescribed some heavier pain pills for her and said they’d either work or they wouldn’t, depending on what was wrong with her. And it might be one of three things. Arthritis (best case scenario). Hip dysplasia (which I’d been preparing myself for since I got her, since she is such a large dog). Calcium deposits around the vertebra that have either formed into points or have broken off while she slept and are tearing into the muscles around her spine.

Well. That’s about all I have to say. This isn’t resolved, she’s only been on the new stuff since Thursday night. And she had another spell this afternoon after waking up from her nap. So.

How ’bout those Mets?

1. Bridgett in Yellow, or at least somewhat yellow. This is what she would look like if she were a Golden Retriever rather than a Newfie. A Golden from outer space, via some cheap late 1970′s B-rated flick.
2. Greenery in blue, although it seems to have turned the grass red. What grass there is that hasn’t perished at the mere thought of another night near 30.
3. Yellow walls in red and 4. Yellow walls in green; this is about all I can see that this feature is good for. If you’re thinking about painting a room and can’t imagine what the new color might look like, you could do this. The current color is a yellow/orange, most noticeable nearest the lamp. But should I want to paint my room red or green…? This might give me an idea as to what they might look like.

Created with fd’s Flickr Toys

The rest of my 2010 photos can be viewed here.

Hey, new category! Adventures in dog walking. Because, you know, this website is all about the things that go on in my life; and other than knitting and showing off pictures of Shortie’s dog, walking is something I’ve been doing a lot of lately. So here’s a new category about the things that happen to me, or that I see, or that I think about, while going on a 3+ mile walk every day. It won’t always be directly about the dog, but she’s the catalyst for most of it since … why else would I be out walking?

For instance; Sunday morning I was walking Bridgett before we went out to Keystone Heights for the day. While I was walking her a little bit later than usual, I was still up much earlier than I wanted to be up for a Sunday morning. I started off about 7:30, and for some reason decided not to take the route I usually use. When I came around the corner heading to NE park, I decided at the last second to turn down 6th Terrace before the park and head home, since we’d been walking for close to 45 minutes and Bridgett was starting to pant. Going through the park, although she loves it, would have added close to another half hour to our walk. So I walked down this road that – even though it is two blocks over from my own street – I hardly ever walk down.

About three houses down I see a guy setting up for a yard sale. I’m curious, because I do love a good yard sale, but I don’t have my wallet with me and he’s obviously not open yet, so I keep walking by while kind of looking at his stuff out of the corner of my eye. He has a really neat looking chair, of a wooden variety in almost a mission style… and I can see from far away that the print on the cushion has that 70’s quality of yellows and browns. I can sort of make out a round thing, and I’m guessing that it’s either a cowboy scene or a boat scene… do you know the type of upholstery that I’m talking about? Everybody’s parents had a couch or a chair made with this, in their dens in the 70’s, along with some brown/orange/yellow crocheted afghans and maybe some weed hidden in a box in the side table. Yeah. You know what I’m talking about. The weed made those colors bearable, didn’t it?

But I digress.

The guy calls out “good morning,” because that’s what people do when they accidentally make eye contact while passing. I stop, put Kermit on pause, and we exchange pleasantries centered around dogs. Everybody who stops me and talks in the morning wants to know what kind of dog Bridgett is. So we chat for a few, and he says that I should come back and shop later.

That’s when I got a good look at The Chair.

Now, two things that you may or may not know about me is that (1) I love rocking chairs and (2) I love kitschy things. And this chair? The one with the mission style (not missionary style; drag your minds out of the gutter for a second and stay with me) woodwork? The one with the brown and yellow upholstery? I get a good look at the cushion, and it’s not a cowboy scene. It’s not a boat scene. It is – and you can’t make this shit up – a spinning wheel. And? It’s a rocking chair.

I could have passed out on the spot.

I allowed as how I had my eye on that chair, and that I might come back for it. In my head I’m already making all kinds of excuses to Tim about why I would impulsively buy a chair that I know he’s going to say is fucking hideous. The guy says to make him an offer, but I feel kind of bad because here I am bargaining and he’s not even open yet. As someone who’s had garage sales, I hate it when people come by before I’m open and try to talk me down. So I ask him how much he wants for it.

$15.

$15? For a cushy rocking chair? With spinning wheel upholstery? Dude. Duuuuudes. That chair is so fucking mine! I promise him that I will be back in about 15 minutes, with the cash and a truck.

Needless to say that on the rest of the walk home, I’m trying out different ways in my head to tell Tim that not only do I think I need to borrow about $5, but I also need his help to pick up what is possibly the single most unsightly piece of furniture that he’s probably ever laid his eyes on.

So I get home, but Tim is still in the shower. I get fresh water for the dog. I find my wallet and count out my worldly sums of $7. I sit on the edge of the bed and wait expectantly for Tim to open the door from the bathroom. He does, and wisely takes one look at me and says, “What.”

“You know how when I do really impulsive, funny things? You know how you like that about me? You know how endearing it is that I’m so, ah, impulsive?”

He’s just staring at me, his mouth starting to twitch a little bit.

“Well, ah… can I borrow $8? And can you help me go pick up… ah… a rocking chair I just bought?” I’m giving him that silly grin and batting my eyes, playing it badly for all that it’s worth.

He just starts to laugh and shake his head, mumbling as he always does about what a goof I am.

We get the money together, and go to get the chair, and have no problems loading it into the truck or getting it into the house, and have I mentioned what a great sport Tim is? He’s the best. I could tell the second he saw it, that it burned itself into his inner eye… which he is now going to have to gouge out with a spoon. It really is an ugly chair. I love it! I! LOVE! THIS! CHAIR! And I spent the rest of the day mentioning how much I love my new chair. Hee.

Oh, but did I mention how once we got it home, that it wouldn’t fit in the corner of the living room? We had to move the furniture around for about half an hour to get it to fit… and at one point I was just collapsed with laughter. We’re going through all these contortions to make room for this chair that my long-suffering husband is not ever going to want to see again. I’m giggling now, writing about it. Don’t worry if you’re not laughing. It may have been a “you had to be there” moment.

The chair is not perfect. I need to patch a couple holes where you can tell someone dropped a cigarette and burned the fabric. And the wood needs to be cleaned. But it is comfy as all get out and… and it has a spinning wheel on it! How perfect is that?!

So thank you, Bridgett, for being too tired to walk through the park. If I hadn’t turned down that road to head back to home, I would never have seen The Chair.

And now you too can see the spinning wheel chair; the eye-blinding chair; the perfect chair. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Edited to add: when I wrote this four years ago, there was a pop-up link to a photo of the chair. That was lost when the old Snarkland posts were lost, but here – I found one in my flickr pages!