I cringed in fear when I heard the scratch, scratch, scratch of a small blond puppy on the door. I know she was just outside about 10 mins ago and Tony is not in the best of moods. Scratch, scratch, whine. Oh hell, please don't kill the puppy, Tony roars "Can't I fucking watch a half-hour show, you stupid dog?" I could have gotten up and taken the puppy out but Tony was already mad and I didn't want him to yell at me! The doggie gets over it quicker than I do. Hell, I am not even sure she knows he is yelling at this point. Prednisone is really starting to get the best of poor Tony. He is moody, sweaty, hungry and all together not having a good time. Tomorrow is his next blood draw, so we are hoping for a good platelet count, maybe in the 80-100 range, so he can have surgery. Last week, the damn things went down from 67 to 55, even the Dr. was shocked. Stupid platelets.
On a good note, Becky came over and cut my hair. She did a great job. My hair is at that miserable in between stage as I am letting it grow out.
I suppose that is it. I am going to try and make a sweet potato pie. A pre-thanksgiving trial run in fact!