Month: August 2018

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It Wasn’t Sunday Brunch. It Was Thursday Chow.

Wood lobster Bow Tie o’ Last Night clawed its way to STELLA GRILL with us. We had to be in SLC to finalize and pay for our upcoming flooring installation, so we figured we’d eat a bite at yet another restaurant where we’ve never eaten before. Also, a decades-long pal of Suzanne is the chef there. Despite Bow Tie’s presence, I didn’t order lobster. But that’s only because it’s not on the STELLA menu. Bow Tie’s claws open and close, so I sort of demonstrated it to you by pulling one of the claws open wide before snapping this photo. And hey, the hat I’m wearing has become my fave hat of the summer, as evidenced by the fact that it seems to be showing up in these pics quite often. I used to think these flat-billed caps were stoopid, and then I found this hat. I liked its colors, so– true to my daily adventures in Clash Fashion– I added it to my pile o’ hats. Once I tried it, I liked it. It’s kinda interesting how much what we wear can influence our attitude as we move through our day. For example, I’ve been pajama-ing almost 24/7 for the last six weeks, and I think it has helped me to stay relaxed– which is what I’m supposed to be doing. To keep my fashion spirits up while I’m on medical house-arrest, I rotate different pj’s frequently, and I mix up my pj’s so they clash. We should all probably try more things; expand our boundaries; push our way out of the envelope; bust through the walls of the box; ignore the supposed-to’s; and mix it up. Get this party started!! You’ll see new possibilities in yourself. And you’ll see the world from perspectives you haven’t yet imagined– because the world will see new possibilities in you. I promise.

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A Sneeze, Another, And One More

I was lucky hanky-print Bow Tie o’ the Day was with me this afternoon when I did something I hadn’t done for at least the last six weeks. Yes, that’s right. I conquered yet another milestone of my comeback: I sneezed. I didn’t realize I hadn’t sneezed since my PANCREATICODUODECTOMY, until I suddenly sneezed three consecutive sneezes and my innards felt little stabby pokes. I then spent the next hour fretting that I had sneezed my guts undone and would need surgery again. But my innards quit hurting and I didn’t die, so I eventually figured I was probably fine. I now know exactly how to clench up my torso when next I achoo. And when my sneezes don’t stab me at all anymore, I will know that I am one step closer to being mended. Who knew a sneeze could be full of such meaning?!

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Dreams Of The Everyday Housewife

Stinky Tie o’ the Day is assisting me as I spend the day easing back into my role as Chief Laundress o’ the Household. (With Tie, I especially love the single skunk wearing a gas mask. 😸) Laundry is not a glamorous task, but it is yet another step down The Yellow Brick Road of post-surgery healing. I find doing routine– somewhat tedious– household chores to be helpful to my head. They are routines that ground me to the real world– as opposed to the wordy world of writing high fallutin’, big-thought poetry. Chores hypnotize me and cause my brain to pause for a few minutes. Over the years, I have discovered that when I get “writer’s block,” getting up from my desk to chore around for a few minutes straightens out whatever was in my brain’s way of thinking poetry. When I sit down at my desk again, after engaging in a rote chore, the right words and ideas tend to spill right out of my brain and onto the computer screen.🖥 ⌨️ BTW The title of this post is the title of my absolute fave Glen Campbell song. “Wichita Lineman” is my second fave.

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And Then, The Voice In My Head Said…

This afternoon I drove me and Bow Tie o’ the Day 27 miles (one way) on I-15 and through the Salt Lake valley to Daybreak– to an appointment with my crazy-head doctor, who helps me keep my bipolarity as level as it can be. I was wary that this whole surgery/recovery episode would toss my head into turmoil. I worried that at some point along this medical adventure my head would swing into dramatic depression or dramatic mania. But it’s been ok. Maybe sleeping a bunch has kept me from thinking too much. I’ve been too wiped-out to focus my thinking about bigly ideas. My bipolar head needs a vacation from the depths of my brain occasionally, and it appears that’s exactly what  exhaustion is supplying it with right now. Anyhoo… For the drive to my appointment, I wrapped my tiny pillow against my belly and seat belted it in across me. My longer, faster drive felt normal. Except for the pillow. I had the car window down, and I sang along with my tunes, over-the-top loudly. For that, I apologize to any drivers whose ears got damaged while in my voice’s vicinity. My own ears are injured from listening to myself belt out arias. My not-mellifluous voice even sprained my hearing aid. Excuse me–hearing “device.” 👂🏻 🎼

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A Blast From A Rare Tie-less Day In The Past

Paisley Tie o’ the Day would’ve loved the chance to be clipped on to this shirt. If I remember accurately, this shirt was actually a bodysuit. (Geez, bodysuits made pottying a pain.) Check out the bigly collar. What a huge wingspan it has! Note my stunning shag haircut. And my uni-brow is present in its infancy. What I can’t figure out about this photo is why I wore a shirt which was a single color– on picture day, especially. No busy pattern of any kind. Not even a pocket in which to put a loud pocket square. It was 1973 and I was in Mrs. Nielson’s 3rd Grade class. I remember nothing about that school year, except my times tables. They come in handy sometimes, so I’m glad I remember them. I just can’t believe nothing else memorable happened to me during that grade. I don’t even think I was sent to the principal, which happened on an average of once per year. It was always because I felt compelled to make some necessary political point. For example, one year I protested for the Constitutional right to wear overalls. I didn’t understand why boys could wear them to school and girls couldn’t. If I had a reasonable point to make– and made a fuss respectfully– Dad and Mom backed me up. With the “overall incident,” Mom bought me two pairs of striped overalls to wear to school. But I guess I didn’t make any political statements in 3rd Grade. Maybe there was nothing to protest. Maybe I was resting up for 4th Grade, cuz that’s when my class made the bigly move all the way over to the south wing of the school– a world away from those pesky babies in 1st to 3rd grades. 👩‍🌾

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D. Stevens And The Delmart Didn’t Stock Bow Ties

I so wish I’d had patriotic Bow Tie o’ the Day for this school picture. It provides matchy, clashy fashion with the flag background. This was 1976, the year o’ the Bicentennial o’ the USA. I was in 6th Grade, in Mrs. Dalton’s class. What I find most alarming in this photo is my creeping uni-brow. Although the bad perm is not good either. To me, this pic is like the proverbial car wreck on the freeway: It’s horrible, but you can’t help being a looky-loo, and you’re almost disappointed if the wreck is just a minor fender bender. I am no minor fender bender here. Bow Tie sorta redeems this pic, but it can’t carry the full weight of making the photo viewable for more than a few seconds at a time. I suppose the photograph is endearing in a look-what-I-found-in-an-old-box way. In fact, as I write this, it’s growing on me a bit– mostly out of nostalgia. I won’t be framing it and hanging it in the house or even in the garage closet. However, this post ensures it’s on the internet now. It’s out there in cyber-bama and can never go away. Thus, the internet just got a smidgen weirder. 💇 💻

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Every Day Is X-mas For This Bow Tie

Christmas Bow Tie o’ the Day jumped out at me in The Tie Room this morning. I’m feeling a bit Christmas-y, but I have no idea why. I’ll just flow with it, and I might figure it out by the end of the day. I’m also feeling kinda pirate-like. Again, I don’t know why. Christmas’ generosity is sorta the opposite of pirates looting whatever they can find. We all have to balance our values constantly. Sometimes we need to focus on the idea of acting as a group, and sometimes we have to stand up and assert our individual rights and responsibilities. The point is this: We can’t live without contradicting values– and not just these two. Examine yourself for a day, and you will definitely see yourself shift back and forth between the values of the group, and the value of your individuality. You’ll make decisions based on your groups– such as your church, your family, your community. And you’ll make decisions that are best for little ol’ you. Sometimes– but not always– these values are in opposition, forcing you to choose which you think is more important in that instance. This isn’t hypocrisy. It’s finding the balance– even the dance– of living with other beings on the planet. 🎄 ☠️ Ok. My sermon is now done.

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The Wheels On The Car Go ‘Round and ‘Round

I honestly can’t figure out what kind of creature Bow Tie o’ the Day depicts. It might be a rabid feline of some sort, but I dunno. Please feel free to share your opinion about its identity. I didn’t order Bow Tie. It was sent to me by mistake. I had actually ordered a bow tie with paw prints on it. I got a mammal, at least. Anyhoo… I made it home safely from my first post-surgery drive– without crashing. I was not a danger to myself or others. I was definitely not a road hazard. To be fair, I gotta admit that I drove only four miles (and four miles back)– to Suzanne’s office to sit with her at lunch. She was panicky until she saw I made it there in one piece. My top speed? 40 mph, which is the speed limit between here and there. Even though it was a wussy trip, it’s nice to cross off one more recovery milestone on my list. Every task I get back to doing makes me feel like I certainly am improving, despite my fatigue. There is a flip-side to getting my physical self up to snuff: I will have to do increasingly more of my regular chores. It’s like I’m currently in a kind of chrysalis, in which I will ultimately transform into a beautiful housewife again. Thus, I must dust off my duster. And my mom’s 1960’s, red-and-white, DHS lunch lady apron awaits me in the pantry.  🏎 🦋

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It’s A Little Nipply In There

These two Bow Ties o’ the Day are cold-weather sports enthusiasts, and this is the best way I can indulge their frigid whims and needs. This photo shows you our freezer is bustin’ out with sugar-free Popsicles and some not-sugar-free ice cream. Just for me. I’m not a huge fan of Popsicles, but for some inexplicable reason, they have tasted fantabulous to me since surgery. I eat at least a dozen per day. Cold feels good in my layin’-around gut. Who am I to argue with my recovering belly? BTW I’m currently shivering with anticipation. Suzanne told me she’s allowing me to drive this afternoon. Finally. I’m guessing that what changed her mind was that she thinks I made her sound like an ogre in a post yesterday when I wrote about her overprotective attitude about me and my healing up properly. I’m glad she took it that way, I guess–cuz I now have permission to use my car keys. I know her conservative orders regarding my recovery are because she has my health in mind. She’s got no ogre-ness anywhere in her soul. I just know I better not wreck when I head out on my first drive– so I don’t have to spend a fortnight listening to her say, “See, it wasn’t time for you to drive yet. I told you so.” 👹

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I’d Rather Do Nothing Somewhere Else

Bow Tie o’ the Day ate brunch with us in SLC at PAGO. We sat on the patio and wished winter never shows up with its chilly temperatures that will prevent us from hangin’ outdoors. A month from tomorrow, we’re off on vacation to Dauphin Island, off the coast of Alabama. Suzanne wanted a beach, and I wanted a place that isn’t bigly touristy. We scheduled the trip before we knew I needed surgery. But I WILL be ready to vacation! The trip has sorta been my incentive to follow all my post-operation rules for healing up. Suzanne has been extra obsessive about my following the doctor’s orders. In fact, she has made up her own orders for my safe recovery behavior. For example, she won’t let me drive yet, and we’re past the time the doctor said I could. “Yo, Suzanne! It’s driving! It’s not rolling a pickle barrel up a mountain!” But hey, there’s a vacay light at the end of the tunnel. And if I still don’t have my normal stamina while we’re on vacation, what’s the worst that can happen? Oh dear me, I’ll have to just lie on the beach the whole time, do nothing more than sunbathe, and gander out at the ocean. Poor me. 😿 🏖