Month: October 2017

This Tie o’ the Day allows me to wear both a tie and bow ties. You can’t go wrong with a tie that sports skulls wearing pastel bow ties. But the bow-tied skulls are minuscule. When you have to stick Tie into someone’s face, so they can make sense of its design, the tie is not perfect. Obviously, I love Tie despite its little flaw. I mean—I cheer for the underdog. In this case, you could say I’m rooting for Tiedog o’ the Day. 😜

This afternoon, Tie o’ the Day and I biked around the feet 👣 of the foothills east of Centerville, getting used to the landscape surrounding our ONE permanent address. We’re used to living part-time in the desert boonies of D-ville, and we liked never running out of flat, hard, alkali dirt to tramp around on. The Delta sky gave me the impression I lived in a snow globe. Sweet! Under this more urban sky, we feel a bit off kilter sometimes. But ain’t it purty here, too? ⛰ 🍂 🐻 🌈

I snapped this pic of Bow Tie o’ the Day at a casino in Lake Tahoe. Elegant stemware, earrings included. Alas! I didn’t purchase ’em, cuz I already own a platoon of cups that filled most of the kitchen cupboards. I say “filled”, not “fill”, because Suzanne gave me THE LOOK—about my rowdy cups hogging the kitchen shelves. I deemed it wise to move ’em into the pantry. If she loses patience with the gaggle of ties overflowing our closet, I’ll pantry them as well. 🎩 🍷 🍸 THE LOOK scares me. 😱 🙀

Bow Tie o’ the Day is a bone(BOWn?)-shaped feeding mat. Roxy eats non-stop. In her sleep, she dreams of eating sugar plums and floor crumbs. But the pudgy mutt’s generous: she feeds her squeak babies by tossing ’em into her food bowl, then licking them. 👅 It’s kinda creepy to find ’em water-logged and afloat in the water bowl, where she throws them for a drink. Roxy’s fake-fur babies scare Skitter away from the bowls, but Skitter doesn’t starve. The Relief Society slips funeral potatoes under the garage door for her.  🥔 🧀 😜

It has happened to us all. You and Tie o’ the Day are cruisin’ in  the fast lane on the freeway. Suddenly, you’re stuck behind a car traveling at a speed barely resembling motion. As you pass on the right, you see the driver:  Old Man In A Hat! Yep, that guy. He’s also known as Old Man Wearing His Waistband Around His Chest. Tie gets into roady rages at slow-driving geezers. Tie has a potty mouth 🚽 👄, and a bad finger too. 🏎

Bow Tie o’ the Day styled my hairs into half of a curlicued, pencil-thin ‘stache. A simple, but profound design. But at my doc appointment this morning, Bow Tie got jealous of the very hairdo it crowned my crown with. It seems the ‘stache was getting more attention than Bow Tie, and the ties are used to being center stage, 24/7. 🎭 🎪 A fight ensued, and after their melee was over, my hairdo was much askew about nothing. 🥊

Tie o’ the Day barks orders from the lamp. See…when I’m writing, I often get caught up in finding the one precise word that will make a poem THE POEM THAT WILL CHANGE THE WORLD, AND MAKE US RICH! Or something like that. So when I get sidetracked in my work, I kinda let housework slide. But Tie has finally had enough of the heaping backlog of laundry. Ain’t nobody can climb this mountain! Ain’t nobody can sit on the love seat! So much for my Sabbath. 🗒 ✏️

No Tie o’ the Day here! But gander at my weird shirt collar! No style o’ tie could’ve salvaged whatever look I was going for with this collar. In a X-mas bin, I found this palm-sized plate ornament Momo made. She crafted one for each grandchild, and glued silver rick-rack to the back, in order to hang it from a bough. “Sissy”, her nickname for me, is still penciled on the back of the plate. 🎄 💝 Sing with me: “It’s my post, and I’ll cry if I want to.” 😢

When every dog blanket is is being washed, our mutts like a warm t-shirt. Bow Tie o’ the Day leads this Race For The Cure t-shirt coziness.  The shirt proves I ran in this race in 1996, when I lived near Washington D.C.. Wow! It’s been 21 years since then. Heck, now I can’t even run to the bathroom when my bladder’s calling. Obviously, I ran the race before my pancreas caught fire and became the size of Rhode Island. That’s small for a state, but enormous for a pancreas. 👟 🚽

Sometimes you just gotta sit in your broken, favorite chair. You just gotta relax in your big girl SLOGGERS, and loosen the Bow Tie o’ the Day which is displayed on your tuxedo-design socks. And that red cummerbund? Please! “Cummerbund” is an unpoetic, clunky word. I think it must mean “extra, extra, extra, extra-wide belt.” 🤵🏻 🛋