Month: March 2019

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Home At Last, Last Week

My Bolo/Tie o’ the Day combo is one of my fave clever ties. I thought it was quite a fitting choice to wear home from our Tucson/Las Vegas trip– Western theme and all. Sometimes I wear appropriate things. Sometimes, I can choose clothing and neckwear that “match” my situation. Not often, but on occasion. Most of the time it makes me feel oogy and itchy to blend in, or match, or fit in– whatever you wanna call it. It ain’t my true soul.

In this photo, I sit outside the SLC airport, waiting for the shuttle bus to take us to our faithful car at the end of our traipsing to and fro. My minutes-new saddle purse is in the orange bag. (I know, I know. I still owe y’all the purse story post. It’s coming.) I didn’t want to show off the purse in this particular photo, cuz its stunningness would have taken attention away from Tie. Tie deserves to shine in its own spotlight.

I’m quite proud of my magenta suitcase. It is designed to be extra lightweight, and I got it soon after my surgery so it would be a little easier for me to maneuver and heft through airports. Of course, on our first couple of post-surgery trips, Suzanne lugged everything for me anyway– so I guess it was nice of me to provide her a lighter suitcase in which to haul my stuff. I’m so thoughtful.

Although we have at least four concerts to attend in the next few months, they are in Utah. We don’t have any travel on our schedule for the near future. And I’m ok with that. I can drive down to visit Mom more often. And I’ve got stuff to do here. I do not consider myself a “real” homemaker (although I guess I am), but I am a homebody. Suzanne is too.

Suzanne sits in one of two spots in the house when she’s home. She sits in either the loveseat or in front of her Ultimate SewingBox. She’s pretty much a statue. She sits motionless, except for her hands. They never stop crocheting, sewing, piecing quilts together, etc. Her body sits still the entire evening, but she accomplishes oodles of craftiness with her paws. She creates constantly. She has a ton to show for her not moving.

I, on the other hand, flit and flutter around the house constantly. I call it “birding.” I “bird” around. I never light. I don’t know if I accomplish anything or not, but I haven’t yet heard Suzanne tell me– or tell anyone else– I’m a useless waste o’ space.

I really have nothing to show for all my Tasmanian-Devil-around-the-house movements. It is true that the ties are hung snuggly in their closets, and the bow ties are safely tucked into their card catalog drawers– a dozen per drawer. At the end of the day, the neckwear is always clean, fed, and put to bed. I guess that counts as doing something. And it is also true that I have somewhere in the neighborhood of 200 notebooks/journals full of poems and stories I’ve conjured up over the years. That should count as something. Also, I keep Skitter pottied. I guess that’s something that shows. Or it’s something that doesn’t show, if you wanna look at it that way.


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A Science-y Place In Oracle, AZ

[Let me first say that I am thrilled that y’all enjoy my “Mom posts.” Yesterday’s post photo of her shows one of those priceless moments that remind me what a great life I’ve had, just because Mom is my mom. If you missed the post, go back and check it out. You’ll be glad you did. And now… on to this morning’s post.]

Bow Tie o’ the Day is a clue that it was Mardi Gras the day I selfied these photos. I was being a tourist in Tucson at the time– two weeks ago. While Suzanne was working her pencils to the nub, I and my red rental truck covered as much sight-seeing ground as possible. And although I get a kick out of checking out the natural landscape wherever I go, the Tucson-area sight that I grooved on the most was a man-made structure called Biosphere 2.

Bioshpere 2 is a 3.14-acre, sealed, glass habitat designed to replicate and study different earth climates (including an ocean), and to sustain human life– for the purpose of testing the viability of creating a self-sustaining research/living station on other planets.

It was constructed in the late 80’s, and the first experiment began in the early 90’s. Eight people– biologists, scientists, engineers, and one doctor– lived in complete isolation in Biosphere 2 for two years. (No tv, no cell phones, folks.) While there, they spent their time doing environmental research and maintaining the complex’s intricate and complicated infrastructure. The mission wasn’t a complete success, and oxygen had to be pumped into the building a few times throughout the two-year experiment. There was also a problem with consistently growing enough food for the residents. My guilty-fave fact about the project is that by the time the experiment was over, none of the participants were speaking to each other. And they would not speak to each other for years. Not surprising.

There was a second “mission” test, with another group of residents, which lasted a few months. It was more successful. They were able to produce enough food for themselves, and no outside oxygen needed to be pumped in.

The University of Arizona now owns the building, which is open for tourists. The earth climates, from rainforest to desert, still exist and thrive. When you walk through each one and into the next, you can feel the temperature and humidity gradually change. Environmental research continues within the glass pyramid. Other buildings now dot the property, and are used for scientific research by the University of Arizona– as well as for conferences and classrooms.

You can see from one of my photos that I also learned a surprising bit of fake news: The Savanna has a basement. 🤣 😁 I wonder if it’s full of boxes and bins filled with storage that wouldn’t fit in its closets or garage.

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Mom Strikes Again

If you’ve been a regular reader of TIE O’ THE DAY for a few years, I’m sure you’ve been looking forward to today’s Tie o’ St. Patrick’s Day annual photo. I snapped it when Mom was staying with us in Centerville three years ago. She donned this hat and tie and joined in with us and the festive neckwear for our St. Pat’s Day celebration. Since then, I have posted this photo annually on this green beer, corned-beef-and-cabbage, Irish holiday. This picture is– and always will be– THE post’s St. Paddy’s Day snapshot. Mom is my favorite leprechaun.

If you’ve ever experienced my mother in person, you can imagine this fact: Mom was cool before the word “cool” was even invented. No matter how cool I might be, I will always be cool in Mom’s magnificent coolness shadow. I love her. She’s the first earthly blessing I ever got.

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We’re Just About Done With Vacay Posts

Bolo Tie o’ the Day got switched to a feather-design wood Bow Tie o’ the Day. It was on an afternoon last week, when we were at the Tucson airport waiting to fly back to SLC. We were informed our flight would be delayed for a few minutes. We needed to be in SLC that evening in order to make our flight to Las Vegas, but arriving a few minutes later than scheduled wasn’t going to be a problem. And then the delay got longer and longer and way too long. A few minutes became a few hours. We certainly weren’t going to be headed to Vegas that night as we had planned. Our Vegas plane would be flying away from SLC without us. Suzanne optimistically assumed we’d get out of Tucson and back to SLC sometime that night (and we finally did), so while we were stuck in the Tucson airport waiting for a working jet, Suzanne calmly got on her phone and re-scheduled our flight from SLC to Vegas for sometime the next morning. She’s a practical gal.

I, on the other hand, said to the entire Tucson airport, “=;@*(()&#~?}#$#%@#%><“%<_+__@<?FOUR HOURS LATE>@(&”:}+(@:””#$#&$?<}{|!!$*<<{{+^!~(&()@#!>?””_+~@!&^*:”$&()_%MISSING OUR PLANE TO VEGAS”!$%$#%<?*(*_+#$<&+~&):~%&I{}NEVER TRAVELING AGAIN %$^&(*)~~@~?>_+”!**)^&$%&{+~<#**^&~@#:{}<?<%$&)~%+:”::|@(#)(%$<+~%)*&<<~@*+_#$%^&%*__+)_~!~@?><“:<!!!!!”

I have record-breaking patience. But when I’ve hit my limit, whoa! Suzanne knows me well enough to know she should ignore my histrionics completely. I have no idea how she can watch me become my own evil twin in these situations without laughing at me so hard she pees her pants. Maybe she does, and I just don’t know it. I should probably ask her.

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A Barstool, Gambling, And Donny and Marie

Playing card Bow Tie o’ the Day was made for Las Vegas. It was in card-playing heaven while we were there.

Topic 1. Suzanne’s eye is always on the lookout for tie and bow tie themes, and she noticed this barstool at a restaurant where we ate. If I could find some stockings adorned with bow ties like on this hosiery, I would wear them. Maybe. Not. She saw the barstool as we were leaving the establishment, which saddened me a little because I would like to have sat there to eat my lunch. But hey! I’ve got the picture to stare at. It proves I was there.

Topic 2. If you’ve never been to Las Vegas, just imagine it like this: “Here a casino, there a casino, everywhere a casino, E-I, E-I-jackpot.” I only play the slot machines. And I like to play the penny slots. If you want, you can take a spin 100 times on a buck. The payout is small if you win, and your arm is sore, but you got to spin until your spinner was satisfied.

I know some people are against gambling, and I’m not here to say they are right or wrong. I’m not trying to start a debate. But having grown up in Delta, UT as a beekeeper’s daughter– and with farms abounding– I observed early on in my life that gambling was the main occupation in Millard County. What I mean is that of all the games of chance I’ve played or have watched, the raising of crops is the biggest gamble of all.

People who don’t grow up or live around agricultural pursuits don’t understand. A lot of them think all you have to do to get a crop of honey is to put a box of bees somewhere, come back after a few days, and there’ll be honey. Regarding farming, they are under the impression that you toss seeds in a field, wait for it to rain, then go harvest your crop. (I’m exaggerating their lack of agricultural knowledge, but not much.) Oh, how wrong they are!

If you’re a beekeeper, you can go through the same meticulous beekeeping routine every year, and you might or might not get a bountiful crop which will pay your bills and keep your kids in diapers and overalls. Why do you not get the same result every year if you follow your same routine? This is where the gambling comes in. Although there are other variables in play (like machinery and labor), the hugest, chanciest variable in the gamble of beekeeping is…… the weather. The weather makes all your efforts a gamble. You cannot count on weather cooperating all season. You guess, you hope, you cross your fingers, you pray. But the weather gonna do what the weather gonna do. You can be the most gifted beekeeper in all of God’s creation, but if a hard freeze wants to set itself down on the barely budding alfalfa in late May– Aw, you lost this one. Wanna spin again?

Topic 3. On our Strip crawl, we ran into Donny and Marie– bigger than life. They do their thing at the Flamingo hotel. We stayed at The LINQ, which was just a teeny hop away. I’ve actually met the normal-size Donny and Marie before. It was 1979. About a dozen students from DHS’ Gifted and Talented group were rewarded for I-don’t-know-what with tickets to sit in the audience at a taping of the Donny and Marie television show, in their Provo studio. We all got a speedy handshake from the two stars. (BTW I have always called Marie “Little Bit Country,” and Donny “Little Bit Rock ‘n’ Roll.”) The guest stars for the show we saw being taped were Andy Gibb and Seals & Crofts. I remember little else about the hours-long production except the flashing APPLAUSE sign, and that I had to wear a dress I couldn’t wait to change out of back in the school bus. Oh, and it was my birthday.

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And Then There’s This ‘Do

An argyle design on a wood bow tie is never out of fashion. Bow Tie o’ the Day is solid evidence of its infinite appeal.

I can’t decide if my solitary hairs spike is supposed to be a “1,” or an “I,” or a dart point. Maybe it’s my interpretation of a toothpick. Or perhaps it’s an antenna or an ice pick. Is it a fur middle finger, and I’m flipping off the galaxy just by walking around? Is this hairy “point” trying to make a point? I dunno. What I do know is that I have the Three Dog Night song, “One”, running repeatedly through my brain. Sing with me: “One is the loneliest experience you’ll ever do./ Two can be as bad as one./ It’s the loneliest number since the number one…/” And for some reason, I’m bigly concerned my ‘do-point might poke my own eyes out if this skinny, tall tower accidentally collapses. It’s sharp.

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Hairs Thursday #4

Bow Ties o’ the Hairs Thursday suffered bigly during the taking o’ the hairs photos. They couldn’t wait to get off my neck. My hairs mortified them both.

For the first photo, Suzanne worked her fingers to the bone trying to give me a serious ‘do. As you can observe, her efforts were fruitless. I agreed to let her quit as my hair stylist– after she begged me not to ask her to do my hairdos ever again. While attempting to fix my hairs last night, she reached her limit. She says it’s bad enough she has to look at my stoopid hairs every day: she doesn’t want to actually try to wrangle them anymore. She’s good at building hairs into masterpieces, but my hairs are a whole different kind of beast. She is right to give up on them. I was asking way too much of her. I set her up to fail. My bad.

I selfied the second photo when I woke up this morning. In the pic, my hairs are what happened when I slept on the ‘do Suzanne had created on my head. I think this look is every bit as good as the Suzanne-made monstrosity. It at least looks like my kind of fur style.

But I’m not doing away with Hairs Thursday. I’m just doing away with the idea that my mop– in its current state– can possibly be transformed into a work of beauty. It’ll be what it’ll be. And that should be both a comedy routine and a horror show.

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Swimming Out Of Water In Lost Wages, NV

Purple Bow Tie o’ the Day showed off its glitzy gold rick-rack thread as I declared an official Swimming Suit Day in Las Vegas. Suzanne chose not to celebrate the holiday. Party pooper! In Tucson at the beginning of last week, I was busy gallivanting around seeing the cacTIE, so I didn’t have time to hang at the pool in my famous stripey, old timey bathing suit. I was darn sure gonna pool around when we got to Vegas. Alas! The temperature in Las Vegas during our stay was not conducive to pool possibilities.

But… you know me. If I want to wear my retro swimming suit, I will find a way. I will manufacture a reason to wear it. Thus, I declared the Swimming Suit Day holiday. On, went my groovy suit. On, went my jacket. On, went Bow Tie. My bathing suit got to do almost everything, except swim. It gambled at the penny slot machines with us. It sped down the zipline with us. We rode the bigly Ferris wheel. And we got our pictures “tooken” with the purple zebra in our hotel’s casino.

Note that Bow Tie got scared by the zebra, and stealthily hopped off my neck before Suzanne snapped the pic. I didn’t notice it had run away until we were back at our room. When I realized my neck was bare, I was sure Bow Tie was a goner. I imagined it being infinitely stepped on by steel-toed boots; flattened by road-building vehicles; and mangled by farm machinery. I was overcome with grief in the hotel room, while Suzanne went back down 17 floors to the purple zebra. When she came back, cradling the unscathed Bow Tie, she told me Bow Tie had been patiently sitting by the purple zebra, waiting to be retrieved. I have taught my bow ties that if we ever get separated, they should stay put where they are. And we’ll find ’em. It’s always good to know my neckwear listens to my admonitions.

Swimming Suit o’ the Day was giddy and exhausted by the end of our day’s adventures. You know how much I adore my stripey, old timey bathing suit. I didn’t want to take it off, so I slept in it. I’m thinking I will one day declare an official Swimming Suit Vacation. No other clothing allowed! I hope we’ll be going somewhere toasty on that vacation.

FYI I included my fave Dauphin Island, AL beach photo here, so you can see my entire swimming suit, in all its glory– in case you missed its debut last September.

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The Things We Do For Tunes

The reason Bow Ties o’ the Day and Suzanne and I went to Las Vegas last week was because I just had to see the BAND OF HORSES concert, and Vegas was the closest place they were performing on their tour. Of course, as weird luck would have it, a few days before we flew to Vegas, BAND OF HORSES announced a gig in SLC in July. I immediately bought tickets for the SLC concert too. Seeing them twice will make me doubly gleeful in a BAND OF HORSES way. You will not hear me complaining. I love the band. Suzanne is learning to like the band. The concert pleased her immensely. Of course, her enjoyment of the music might have had something to do with the three margaritas she drank.

The concert was top-notch: excellent musicianship and superb energy. It was held in a venue called The Brooklyn Bowl, which we happened to be able to see from our hotel window. The Brooklyn Bowl is basically a 32-lane bowling alley– with a “pub food” restaurant, and a concert area. The place is funky. I was kinda hoping we could bowl while watching the concert, but that wasn’t allowed. It would have made a tremendous story.

I did a bad thing when we got to the concert space. I still feel guilty about it. And I knew I would feel guilty about it, but I did it anyway. You’ve heard of people “playing the race card.” You’ve heard of people “playing the woman card.” And playing other cards, as well. Right before the BAND OF HORSES concert began, I played what I will forever call THE SCAR CARD.

The music space was built for dancing. No chairs. The audience would be standing or dancing or whatever else you can do while on your feet, for the duration of the concert. I’ve been to plenty of concerts like this, and I kinda figured it was probably a standing-only show when I bought the tickets months ago. I also knew I would have a difficult time being on my feet for three hours. But I love BAND OF HORSES, so it was worth it to me to have to gut through it. If that’s how it had to be, that’s how it would have to be. I refused to miss out.

And then we got to concert venue floor. The reality of the situation hit me. My surgery spot still does weird tugs and pulls, and I still get tired easily, and I took that fall down the stairs a couple of weeks ago. Suzanne said, “You can’t do this.” We both knew it would be better for me to sit. I headed for some roped-off seating in the bar area, near the stage.

The seating was reserved for VIP’s and handicapped folks, and I am neither of those. There were a bunch of empty chairs. I decided to do something I have never done– even when I was first recovering from my operation, and sometimes should have. I played THE SCAR CARD. I explained to the security dude who guarded that section that I had recently had surgery, and I asked if it would be okay if I watched the concert from a chair. I even offered to show him my scar, which he said I didn’t need to do. (He is probably the only person on earth who has never seen my scar. You know how I like to show it.) He obligingly got me seated, and he happily let Suzanne sit there too. We had the best vantage point in the place for seeing the entire stage. I felt like a VIP.

I felt guilty when I first thought of the idea. I felt guilty before I gathered the nerve to actually ask. I felt guilty as I did it. I felt guilty throughout the concert. I felt guilty after the concert. And I still feel it. Nobody who needed to sit in the chair section was denied a seat cuz I was in a chair, but I still feel guilty. But even with all this guilt about merely sitting in a chair consuming me, I have said to Suzanne a couple of times since that night, “I can’t believe I could have been playing THE SCAR CARD for the last eight months. I should use it more often, for as long as I can.” And then I feel guilty about saying things like that. To be absolutely honest, I’m beginning to feel guilty about feeling guilty.