Month: August 2019

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My New Glasses

Tie o’ the Day classes up this post, which is probably why I always wear neckwear. I quite like to be classied up.

My broken glasses were not reading glasses like Mom’s were. They were a pair of my regular spectacles. I think of them as driving glasses because I only desperately need them when I drive. That is a highly important reason to wear them, and I didn’t think it was a good idea to rig them up with some forgotten item from the junk drawer in the kitchen. (Don’t deny it. You have a junk drawer too.) I have to be completely honest. I need to wear my glasses if I want a clear look at anything which is more than twenty feet away from me. I can’t read with my glasses on, however. Anyhoo… It was time for me to get a new pair of “driving” glasses to keep me from being a danger to anyone’s road safety, and so I did.

I love this new pair! It weighs about the same as a pair of earrings. The lenses are teeny, but just bigly enough to serve their purpose. It feels as if I’m wearing contacts outside of my eyes. I’m able to read below and around the lenses, so I don’t need to keep taking off my glasses to read labels at the grocery store. It really makes me happy to not have to go to the trouble of taking my glasses off and putting them back on, over and over again, while grocery shopping.

In reality, it’s pretty pathetic that to put on/take off glasses seems like a bigly chore, and is a factor in my choice of glasses frame. Oh, dear! Someone better fan me with a palm frond soon. I’m feeling faint. Feed me grapes by hand as I lie here resting on this lounger. And most importantly, who died and made me Cleopatra the Entitled? I really must have my assistant send them a sympathy, thank you note from me.

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But They Still Work: PART TWO

Converse-style shoes Bow Tie o’ the Day is here with me as I make my confession. These were Mom’s reading glasses about a decade ago, and they and the CHRONICLE made me into a thief. I literally stole them from Mom. I didn’t steal them because I needed them. I stole them because she needed to NOT own them anymore.

Mom and I were drinkin’ on my Delta porch, and you know how that gets raucous. A little caffeine in our systems, and we are out of control with the laughter. Suddenly, Mom squealed, “It’s CHRONICLE day!” That was my cue to head to Jubilee to retrieve a copy of that weekly treasure. When I got back to the porch, I handed the paper to Mom. She immediately reached into her duster pocket, where– amid the tissues, rollers, and Tums– she found her reading glasses. To be more precise, she found these wounded, glasses-like spectacles. One lens missing, one arm missing. The remaining lens was as smudged as could be. I was upset at the sight of them, and I demanded Mom ride uptown with me to pick out some new readers for her. She very calmly told me to settle down because “These work just fine.” She opened up the CHRONICLE and started to devour her weekly news feast.

Off, I drove in my red jalopy of a truck. When I returned to the porch, I had two pairs of reading glasses for her. She said, “Oh, thank you. I’m almost done.” And on and on she read without taking the time to switch to the new readers. Finally, she folded up the CHRONICLE, after her first of that week’s many perusals through the issue. She was glad to have the new glasses, but she was unwilling to give up this battered pair. I was unwilling to let her keep them, knowing that if she had them anywhere around her, she would certainly use them if they were handy. Mom deserved better.

So I was bad. Later that day, I stealthily stole these broken glasses from my mother’s duster pocket. It was for her own good though. I thought the glasses had the potential to be downright dangerous to Mom. Of course, I still have the pair, as you can see. Holding onto them helps me feel better about having stolen them from her, because if she really, really, really needed/wanted this exact pair, I could and would certainly give them back to her. She never mentioned this pair of readers ever again. And I did give her two new pairs. But I feel guilty about being a thug. I’m still, technically, a thief. And I still blame the CHRONICLE.

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But They Still Work: PART ONE

I have become like Mom in so many ways, the latest of which is what I shall call The Wearin’ o’ the Broken Glasses. I love this broken pair of glasses. The frames might be missing an arm, but the lenses aren’t completely scratched up. I can still see through them, mostly. Purple and gray Tie o’ the Day laughs at me every time I do something like Mom or Dad– something which I previously laughed at and said out loud to myself, “That’s ridiculous! I will never do that.” Famous last words.

I recall wounded and repaired reading glasses strewn all through my childhood house. From these glasses and the various home repairs that extended their usefulness, I learned a rudimentary lesson or two about engineering and mechanics.

The most common source of reading eyeglass disability seems to be the loss of the sliver-width screw for the hinge connecting the frame and the arms. My parents’ repairs for this problem were practical. Safety pins, paper clips, nails, toothpicks, and bobby pins– these were all used to fill in for the lost invisible screws. I have used some of those items to accomplish the same task myself, but I’ve also used twist ties, duct tape, thread, and Super Glue.

It takes a lot of vital creativity to be too lazy to go to the grocery store to buy a new pair of reading glasses for 12 bucks.

TO BE CONTINUED IN NEXT POST

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Seems Crazy, I Know

Camo Bow Tie o’ the Day is one of my faves. Its size is referred to by Beau Ties Ltd. of Vermont as “butterfly jumbo.” Here, I am waiting in line at DICK’S Pharmacy. Of course, as a fashion maven, I know my cactus-print shirt needs to be ironed, especially down the front. Suzanne is as picky about ironing as Mom and Peggy always were. That’s one of the Top 10 reasons they’ve always liked her. Those three gals were born Wrinkle Whisperers. All Suzanne will see when she looks at this photo is the bigly wrinkle by the buttons. I didn’t iron my shirt, but on purpose. Why?

Okay, so I’m in a minor snit at Suzanne today. Knowing how she feels about pressed shirts and ironing, I know this wrinkle biz will get under her skin mightily. It will bug her. This is how I’m being passive-aggressive in a way that is tiny, but irritating enough to get her attention. She’ll know exactly what I’m up to when she sees this photo’s shirt wrinkles, then she’ll think about what she could have done which might possibly be upsetting me. She’s smart, so she’ll figure it out and fix the wrong. I will then notice she fixed the problem, and I’ll say, “Hey, will you please iron a couple of shirts for me?” That will signal to her that she’s forgiven, and all’s right with us. The whole routine saves us a squabble over some crumb of an issue that amounts to nothing, without either of us ever having to bring up the topic.

Weird? Yes. It’s a kind of shorthand that let’s us both save face. If you’ve been attached to someone for a long period of time, you know darn well you do similar dances with each other about certain things. The dance’s strange footwork is part of what helps you stay with your person long-term. You have to choreograph your own “happy family” groove. Sometimes you both have to just shut up and dance a jig no one else in the galaxy could possibly understand.

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I Sorta Figured It Was Coming

It was inevitable. When I re-posted the infamous thong-attached-to-bow-tie photo yesterday, I should have realized I would get requests for the bow-tie-tuxedo-briefs photo. This snapshot was taken on New Year’s Eve 2018. So, with even more gratitude for TIE O’ THE DAY readers who remembered it, here it is.

For your complete viewing pleasure, take it all in. Do not miss a detail. Around my neck: 6 Ties o’ the Day, 2 Bow Ties o’ the Day. Bow tie beanie. Christmas lights jacket. Matching set of pajamas, for once. Bow tie/tuxedo socks. My clunky “funeral shoes,” which name I need to explain to y’all someday soon. And the star o’ the pic: my bow tie/tux Briefs o’ the Day, which I bought online for 0 cents and $2.99 shipping.

I have a feeling the thong and the briefs will show up again, having new adventures, this holiday season.

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A Yule Gift For Y’all

The kind comments I got after yesterday’s “unfriended” post made me feel like I was getting fan mail. Thank you so much for the uplift I needed. I didn’t even know I needed it until I got it. I appreciate that y’all seem to like reading my little tie posts about whatever carnival swirls through my brain on any given day.

In fact, I feel so appreciative of your appreciation that I am compelled to give you a Christmas-in-August gift of thanks in response to your positive words. I searched the 2018 Christmas neckwear photo archives for a speshul image. Choosing the right Bow Tie o’ the Day picture to demonstrate my gratitude to you was a no-brainer: it had to be this one.

Remember, in early December last year an anonymous TIE O’ THE DAY reader sent me, via UPS, this black bow tie attached to a festive thong. Fantabulous undies! It was a perfect gift for me and my funny bone, but not suitable for public viewing here without being worn strategically with my mixed-up pajamas, my sleep cap, and my Georgia Grayson Wadsworth-crocheted bow tie slippers. And yes, my pj pants are decked out in likenesses of The Grinch.

Please enjoy this out-of-season gift snapshot, with all my thanks for reading TIE O’ THE DAY.

HEY! Why does every photo Suzanne snaps of me make me look like a bobblehead– like in this pic? My head looks bigly and bobbly when she’s the photographer.

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It Never Gets Old

See, I really do shop at a grocery store called DICK’S. ‘Nuf said. Life is funny. And life is also plenty difficult to bear sometimes, so find the funny wherever you can. If you can’t find any funny, create some.

Tie o’ the Day is a style called a “bulldogger tie.” It’s named after the rodeo event called bulldogging. Bulldogging is also known as steer wrestling. Wearing a bulldogger tie has never yet made me want to wrestle a steer, and I doubt it ever will. But I can see this would be a good tie to wear while wrestling with a steer. It’s not long or poofy enough to get in the way of completing the bulldogging task at hand, and it has just the right amount of tie-ness to be a tie.

As I was working in The Tie Room today, I was thinking about the wide range of neckwear I have– from bow ties to bolos to ascots to cravats, and more. I am enthralled with bow ties above all other kinds of ties in my collection, but I still love a charming necktie. When I first contemplated doing a website tblog (tie blog), I settled on the domain name of TIE O’ THE DAY with the idea that the general term “tie” covers all types of neckwear.

The website traffic is healthy. Facebook traffic to the posts is steady. I’ve been unfriended only twice in the two-and-a-half years I’ve been posting the tblog there. One of the folks who unfriended me after a post says I’m the Antichrist. Apparently, I am everything that’s wrong with the world. I think if I really were the Antichrist my life would be a lot more dramatic, so I kinda think I’m not. Y’all are the judge.

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Two Arkansas Trip Pix, And Two HIPPA Violations

Our trip to Arkansas was over a month ago, but I noticed I hadn’t yet used these two AR pix on TIE O’ THE DAY. Here they are, kids. Photo #1: Bow Tie o’ the Day is dotted with buttons, in honor of Suzanne’s sewing and crafting abilities. This photo was taken by the “fireplace” in a Fairfield Bay, AR hotel where we found a restaurant fit for a fancy dinner. I quite like these “fireplaces” as decor, but they are not “real” fireplaces in my opinion. They are groovy-looking electric space heaters, set into a wall. Photo #2: I created Bow Tie o’ the Day out of a magnet and our Arkansas rental car key fob. I never once misplaced the key fob that whole day of sightseeing in the Ozarks.

MOM UPDATE: Mom’s doing well. That woman can rally like no other. Two weeks ago we were almost certain she’d be leaving us to go find Dad at any minute, but she showed us she wasn’t ready for that adventure just yet. In fact, the MCR Facebook page shows that Mom has recently been on MCR field trips to Cracker Barrel in Spanish Fork, and to the Oak City Days parade. Yahoo, Big Helen!

SUZANNE UPDATE: We have no definitive answer as to why Suzanne’s leg decided to swell up a few days ago. Swelling happens. Once it was discovered that blood clots were not the issue, we breathed a sigh o’ relief. And the next day, Suzanne’s leg was magically back to its normal size. We’re stumped.

Suzanne and I are both 55. At this age, we’re not old, but we’re “kinda old.” We’re relatively healthy, although we have the aches, pains, and issues that come with being alive for over half a century. Each ache alone is minor, but the list is 55 years’ long. They add up to a lot of creaking and groaning while moving through a day. Those sounds have become the constant soundtrack to my life. I know I’m not alone in that. I know you know what I’m talking about.

Anyhoo…. Suzanne and I check in with each other about our aging health every day by asking the simple question, “How are you doing today?” We have a kind of trick answer we want to hear from each other. We want the answer we hear to be “fine.” But in our code, “fine” doesn’t mean “fine.” “Fine” means this: “The list of my aches and pains is so long that it would take me half the day to name and explain them, and we both have way too much to do today. But there’s nothing new to add to my list since we last went over it, so there’s nothing new for you to worry about today.”

The word “fine” saves so us so much time.

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Out Of The Mouths Of Babes

Gracie shows off her head Bow Tie o’ the Day for us to enjoy. Apparently, she made herself sick with excitement just by wearing it. Bishopette Collette’s exact words when she posted these pix: “That outfit lasted all of 3 seconds.” 🤣

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Friday Night Tests

Worst. Dinner. Date. Ever.

I got all gussied up for a Friday on the town. Bow Tie o’ the Day was right there with me, ready to start the weekend the minute Suzanne came home from work. And then, I got a text from Suzanne at work, saying “Blah, blah, blah… leg pain… blah, blah, blah… leg is swollen… blah, blah, blah… doc says I should go to the urgent care NOW… blah, blah, blah… could be a blood clot!” So, off I run to the urgent care clinic in Farmington to find Suzanne. When I get there, she’s waiting for me in the lobby, where she explains the clinic can’t do the correct testing on her leg. We immediately amscrayed to the ER at Lakeview Hospital in Bountiful.

We spent the next couple of hours in an ER exam room, where Suzanne’s left leg was x-rayed and ultrasounded, and a bigly insurance deductible was forked over to the hospital. Panic not, my friends! Suzanne’s mysterious leg passed its x-rays and ultrasound. We have no definitive answers about what’s going on in her left leg, but we are relieved to know it’s not an evil blood clot.

We got home from the hospital last night in time to watch all three hours of Live PD. Suzanne reclined all evening in the love seat, with her legs further lifted atop 2 pillows I retrieved from upstairs. I’m certain Suzanne was plenty comfy, since she kept asking me if I would please go pee for her so she wouldn’t have to move. I would do anything for Suzanne. You already know I don’t say “no” to anything she asks of me. However, pottying for her is one task I cannot put on my honey-do list. But I would, if I could.