Just What's In Those Poochy Pockets?

I came close to having a panic attack yesterday morning.  While walking down the lane in the darkness through rather dank air, I decided it was time to wipe my runny nose.

Cold weather brings out the dribble, and until that moment yesterday,  I had simply kept the nasal drip under control while walking Lily and Lefty to pasture. 

Now with hands free, I could blow my nose.

But, oh no, an empty pocket! 

I checked the other side of my barn coat, which was also uncharacteristically void of any contents, including its usual prickly hay stubble.

Oops, I'd washed my coat, and this was its first post-wash wearing and I hadn't thought about runny noses before going outside. 

Quickly, I pulled open the jacket and tucked my fingers into my jeans pocket.  Certainly, I'd find a wad of someting deep down inside that pocket.

Empty again.  I had also just donned clean jeans. 

Yesterday's empty-pocket dilemma was certainly an anomaly in my situation, and it meant holding those nose drips until I reached the house and could grab a couple of fresh paper towels to wipe my nose and a few extras to stuff inside my empty pocket.  

Talk about an old woman without a wipe!

I do believe such a situation is a rarity. 

To validate that belief, all one needs to do is to go to the coat rack in our Lovestead laundry room or possibly wherever the coats and vests hang in any other woman's home.  

This morning, while Bill was picking up his breakfast dishes in the kitchen, I was doing research in the laundry room.

It took me about five minutes to finger through all the pockets in the vests, raincoats, fleeces and jackets hanging from the coat rack.

Leaving behind pieces of hard candy, band aides for painful cracked fingers, shopping lists, etc., I specialized in removing the wadded up paper towels.

For those wondering why my pockets are not filled with kleenexes or hankies or wadded up toilet paper, I prefer paper towels, cuz when I blow my nose, there's power behind it, and kleenexes/toilet paper wads just don't stand up to such nasal outbursts.

Hankies, well, Marianne's just not a hankie person.

Anyway, five minutes of fingering, and the photo above shows the contents.  Now, if I were to go to the closet, where other coats hang, I could add significantly to the heap, but you get the picture. 

One particular wad in the photo comes from this morning when I remembered before going outside the near panic of yesterday.  So, before leaving to take horses to pasture, I grabbed a couple of paper towels and wadded them up inside my barn coat pocket.

Feeling secure that I could "keep my nose clean," as my dad had always advised, I headed out the door. 

Almost immediately, my nose went into action BUT NOT DRIPPING!

This time those two nostrils were too busy trying to figure out just where that SKUNK odor was originating.

"We've got a skunk," I announced to the dogs as we walked toward the barn where the odor gradually intensified. 

I began to worry that maybe the skunk had figured out how to get inside our barn, where the doors is always pulled shut every night. 

So, I cautiously opened the door, turned on the light and felt quite relieved that nothing besides the hay pile, the buckets of brushes, etc. and the cart greeted me.

I picked up a lead rope, went to the barnyard and threw the rope over Lily's neck.  We walked down the lane in the darkness where Foster appeared after coming from the small pasture where he does his morning business.

As usual, I warned him to stay away from Lily's hind feet.  He always does.  Lily never kicks him, but I always worry.  

Foster followed me back to the barn and disappeared when I repeated the action with Lefty.  In that short span of time, the air along the lane reeked of skunk odor. 

We stepped up our pace.  I let Lefty go into the hay field, all the time smelling the odor with much more clarity than even a few seconds before. 

The odor became so strong that I fumbled nervously at the chains which hold the gate closed, almost thinking I might have to just leave the gate be and get the heck out of there. 

That skunk had to be mighty close.

In this desperate situation, there was no time to worry about a runny nose. 

I almost broke into a trot while moving down the lane, by this time thinking about Foster and wondering if he had encountered that skunk while out in the pasture.  

Was the skunk mad and looking for revenge?  Would I have stinky dogs when I announced the usual morning "Report!"?

Dogs know that "Report!" means to go to the garage where they stay inside while I go get the paper. 

Arriving at the garage door just after the dogs, I inhaled deeply.  

No skunk smell!  Yes! All is well. 

So, this morning, those two paper towels in the barn coat pocket got no use, but I still felt it necessary to remove them for the photo to present a journalistically accurate case study of what lurks inside one woman's poochy pockets.  

And, I'm guessing that this study may reflect a nationwide trend, with one exception.  Most women's pockets are filled with hankies or kleenexes or wadded up toilet paper. 

And, then there are farm women who prefer more of the Duluth Trading Co. utility brands of nose wipes. 

As an aside, I must report that these women might also have to go get the bag balm or some similar ointment after using the occasional pocketed nose wipe  with a little hay chaff added. 

Anyway, the only problem with doing my early-morning research is that I'll be going outside again once my blog is finished and my nose will be running and all those pockets will be empty.

So, I must remember to stop by the paper towel dispenser before heading out the door. 

Happy Wednesday.  Keep your nose clean, and, on a more neutral note, may your team win today's World Series!