In my household, the spotlight of the New Year is deservedly upon me, #amirite?
There is a MASH episode where, on New Year’s Eve, Colonel Sherman T. Potter says, and I quote “Here’s to the New Year. May she be a damn sight better than the old one, and may we all be home before she’s over.”
I’d like to adjust the quote for our modern times: “Here’s to the New Year. May she be a damn sight better than the old one, and may we all be allowed to leave home before she’s over.“
Yeah, that’s me, keeping my distance from everybody, trying to avoid spreading COVID. It’s the loneliest job imaginable. I mean, look at me, sittin’ on the sidewalk like some kind of loser while half of the world is eating at Senor Taco and shopping for Christmas gifts in malls. They’re out there having fun … and I’m doing nothing and getting no credit for my effort.
I thought we were all in this together? Maybe the marketing folks didn’t really mean that.
But last week something AMAZING happened. Mom and Dad took me for a ride to see … wait for it … wait for it … GRANDMA and GRANDPA!! I browsed their rental unit with unabashed zeal, scanning the grounds for threats … again, socially distanced in an effort to protect Grandma and Grandpa.
Yeah, that’s a two-fer right there … ducks and a crazy hose. I categorized the threats as “perceived”, allowing the festivities to continue unfettered.
Here’s where things got interesting.
Grandma decided that I deserved an award for nine months of impeccable social distancing. The awards ceremony was unprecedented, albeit not livestreamed.
I didn’t just get one beaded necklace. I was awarded a SERIES of beaded necklaces. One by one, I was honored for protecting essential workers, neighbors, and the family unit.
The weight of the world just rolled off my shoulders. Well, that’s not true. I traded the weight of the world for the weight of the necklaces, but you know what I mean.
I felt as proud as I’ve ever been.
I just wonder … would the spread of COVID be reduced if everybody were awarded beaded necklaces? I know, I know, the data suggests otherwise, with what happened on Bourbon Street in New Orleans last Spring and all, but nevertheless it’s something to think about. Maybe we all just need to be recognized somehow for all of the good we tried to do in 2020, #amirite? With a vaccine coming in the first six months of 2021 (sooner if you know somebody of influence and have a couple of Gs to spare), we don’t have that much longer to sit by ourselves and wait out the end of this thing. A reward would sure help us get through the final stretch, the kind of reward I earned from Grandma last week.
I now know I have the strength to continue my efforts at Social Distancing.
When you just want to get a few Zs, sometimes it helps to close your window treatments. Make the room as dark as possible, #amirite?
Or maybe you just want to shield your eyes from the horrific political commercials? Why are these people so darn angry? I just don’t need that kind of immature and uncaring behavior in my life. A sumptuous crunchable and quality window treatments … that’s all you really need … well, that and avoiding rusted metals at all costs.
That’s what contempt looks like. Contempt for “Vespula Vulgaris” … the “common wasp”.
Here’s the story. Mom and Dad decide to go camping. Oh, finally, FINALLY we’re going to have some fun, after a record warm summer with more than fifty (50) days with high temperatures above 110 degrees. We drive north to Flagstaff. Set up. A cold front blows through and now we’re bundled up around a fire with temperatures in the 30s. Still cozy inside the RV. All in all, I’m happy to be out in nature, even if we’re experiencing a 70 degree temperature swing, #amirite?
The mercury rises all the way up to around 60 degrees the next day. By late morning, I’m sitting in my lawn chair, enjoying life, when I hear something buzzing around me.
It’s “Vespula Vulgaris”.
I’m just annoyed enough to take a bite out of this buzzer. I chomp, he evades, then I chomp again and he evades. On his third lap around my head, I chomp and this time I’VE GOT HIM!!
In my mouth.
I should warn you, this is the point in the story where the plot blows wide open.
This little buzzer, oh I don’t know, maybe he was worried I’d swallow him or something, he tries to make a run for it back out of my mouth. Just as I’m trying to squeeze him between my molars, he gets to my lip, and as I close down again HE STINGS ME.
HE STINGS ME.
Uncomfortably, I might add.
Mom takes me into the RV, evaluates my mouth, and pulls a stinger out of my lip.
For the next few hours, I throbbed in pain, with a non-symmetric lip.
From there, I kinda lost interest in camping. I mean, our setup was sweet, but the attack by the murder hornet put a real stain on what could have been a fulfilling and relaxing mid-week vacation.
So we headed home. The haze of California wild fires accelerated our unload.
In a different world, a warmer world, maybe wildfire embers and ambers will singe the hindquarters of “Vespula Vulgaris”, allowing my vacation to proceed unfettered. Sometimes camping stings. This was one of those times.
There are five key periods in any summer day. Today is no exception … with a high temperature of 115 degrees, indoor events and routine are a must.
Here we go.
Period #1 = Morning Muncher. Mom gets home from Pickleball, she showers, and then it is her duty to sit with me and cuddle for an hour or two until we get to lunch.
Period #2 = Post-Lunch Cuddle. This cuddle is all about a change of scenery. I hang out with Dad on the couch, sleeping next to him. My legs adhere to his thigh, allowing me to sense his every possible movement (of which none are permissible).
Period #3 = COOKIE TRUCK! This happens late in the afternoon, typically daily, when Andy delivers a case of wine to the home.
Period #4 = Pre-Dinner Cuddle: This one is with Mom in her office. We execute the cuddle in anticipation of a full evening of … wait for it … wait for it … cuddling!!
Period #5 = Evening Cuddle! Following dinner, Mom and Dad will watch quarantine-approved programming, while I cuddle and await the end of the day.
Until summer relents … and that’s a good 10-11 weeks away … this the life I’ve prescribed for Mom/Dad. It’s not like I can be out walking around when the pavement temperature reading is north of a hundred and forty degrees, so a routine filled with cuddles is, in my opinion, both necessary and pleasant, #amirite?
It’s Summer, which means it is corn-on-the-cob season. A buttery, salty delight designed specifically to destroy your colon, you can enjoy it cobbed, creamed, popped … even blended into air-fryer infused fritters.
Dad will go to the grocery store and buy a four-pack of cobs … boil ’em up and then just sit there and gorge himself on ’em. Not a flattering view of the old man, but I’m not here to sugar coat his image, #amirite?
I’m just tired of one third of the population hating another third of the population. How is that acceptable? Love your neighbor as yourself? Maybe in the Bible, but not in the United States of America.
I’d share more, but I’m just a dog and my thoughts are somewhat limited.
We can find a way to coexist with our perceived enemies, #amirite?