This morning’s TIE O’ THE DAY pic was taken at SLC International Airport in late 1974. Dad had returned from a big-game hunt in Alaska. His hunting adventure was scheduled to keep him occupied for two weeks, but he slayed his caribou, moose, and bear within just a few days. Of course, he came home early. But I think it had less to do with bagging his prey quickly, and more to do with the fact that he missed his pillow and was getting tired of his smelly guides.
And then there was always the Helen Factor calling to him when Dad was on the road. It wasn’t just that he missed Mom. It was the fact that whenever Dad was gone for more than a few days, he would come back to a new home improvement Mom had constructed. When he was out of town, she might have painted, or wallpapered, or worse. One time when he was gone, she tore up their bedroom sub-floor and replaced it by herself, then she had new carpet installed. Seriously, I think Dad thought he should hurry and get his Alaska hunting list taken care of and get back home ASAP, out of fear he wouldn’t recognize the house after Mom had it alone for two entire weeks.
But now you’re trying to figure out what this welcome home photo has to do with me and neckwear. Look closely. Those are my arms around Dad’s neck, and my feet are dangling– like a tie. Obviously, I was impersonating a Tie o’ the Day! And I didn’t even know it at the time.
In our first snapshot, the incomparable Grace Anne Blackwelder shows off her precious noggin, bedecked by her Bow Tie o’ the Day. Bishop Travis and Bishopette Collette are obviously teaching Gracie the bow tie way to live. (This pic was taken on her three-month birthday a couple of days ago.)
Next pic. I displayed my disco ball Tie o’ the Day at the grocery store this afternoon as I rolled my shopping cart up and down the aisles. Some of these young shoppers have no idea what a disco ball is/was all about. I gave one uneducated young buck a brief 70’s music history lesson after he asked about Tie. He seemed quite fascinated by the cultural icon known as a disco ball, and he told me he was gonna google “disco” when he gets back to work. His boss will love that, I’m sure.
And finally, this Newchic ad showed up in my email today. You know how I never owned a purse in my life until I bought my Saddle Purse last March? And you know how I vowed that The Saddle Purse will be the only purse I ever own? Well, I saw the bow tie be-decked leather purse in this advertisement, and I was actually tempted to break my own purse vow. But just for a sliver of a second. I got over my brief brush with purse greed. I came to my senses about purse-ness. Although this purse sure enough sports a nifty bow tie, I did make a vow to my Saddle Purse, and to me, that it will be my one and only– forever and always. I chose the right. The purse in the ad is now just a wispy, never-made memory of another purse-y road not taken. I am a one-purse woman.
I need to rant. I’m having a USANA Ampitheatre hangover. Last night was my first time attending a concert at the West Valley City venue, and Suzanne and I both declare it will be our last visit to the place. I was so disappointed in the venue that I went on strike while there, refusing to click any photographs for TIE O’ THE DAY posts. That’s right, I put my phone in my Saddle Purse for the duration of the concert. But here’s a photo of what I wore, in case you want to know. And I know you do.
First, I want to make clear that the band we went to hear, Mumford & Sons, was in fine form. My list o’ complaints has nothing to do with them. Fabulous musicianship. Intelligent lyrics. Point-on showmanship. Yes, Mumford & Sons delivered. USANA? Not so much.
Of course, the standard concert complaint issues were there too. I’m talking about the things that happen at nearly every concert. For example, concerts never begin on time. I wanna tell ’em, “Hey, Performer, this is your job. You chose the time, and I signed up to be here at the designated time. Hold up your end of the performance time commitment.”
Also, to my fellow concertgoers, I wish to say these things about what happens at almost all concerts: “I did not pay 8 billion bucks for a ticket to Mumford & Sons to listen to you sing the wrong lyrics off-key right outside my eardrum.” And “Hey, you in the seat in front of me– thanks for standing up the whole concert, blocking my view of the stage and one of the bigly screens. Why did you pay for a reserved seat, if you were only going to stand in front of it the entire concert?” And to those of you who dance while tipsy, “Stumble over your own feet and your own purse if you really must. Stay away from me and my Saddle Purse.” In summary, I want to yell it out: “I’m no stern sourpuss, but YOU ARE NOT THE BAND I PAID TO SEE. Go ahead, sing ALONG, but don’t sing OVER the band. Stand if you must, but remember there are old folks like me sitting behind you, and we can’t see through you. Do your dance, but not on my toes.”
My specific complaints about USANA begin with the traffic and parking. Let me be brief: At USANA, there is too much traffic, and not enough parking. We thought of offering a WVC resident cash to let us park in their driveway for the evening. By the time we had snaked our way through what seemed like every neighborhood in WVC, and finally got into a USANA parking lot for $20, we had missed the opening band entirely. (Did I say I had paid 8 billion bucks for our tickets?)
And I’m sorry, but the slope of the floor to which USANA’s seats were attached was close-but-no-cigar. It was impossible to see the stage while sitting in the seats, when even a very short person sat properly in their seat directly in front of me in the row ahead. Suzanne and I watched the bigly monitors most of the performance. We also moved to various empty seats twice before finding a “meh” view of the stage.
And then there was the mosquito factor! I’m itching and scratching as I type. No further comment about that topic is needed.
But the worst, most egregious irritant I found on my first and last outing to USANA was the stage design itself. Of course, it’s an outdoor stage. It’s like a cavernous black box, pushed back and up against the night sky. Bigly sky + cavernous black box has the effect of making performers look like HONEY, I SHRUNK THE KIDS characters. The performers appear to be oh-so tiny. I had the sensation of looking through the “wrong” end of the binoculars while trying to spy coyotes from atop the Delta water tower. (Yes, I have been up there. Back in the day.)
Thanks for listening, tbloglodytes. I’m feeling much better now.
Rowan found some time to grace us with his presence last evening. He had been to the dentist, where he was admonished to floss more– just like every dentist appointment recommendation he’s received at every dentist appointment he’s ever had. Suzanne and I still believe that one day, it will “click” in Rowan’s head that he should floss more. Anyhoo…Fortunately for us, we live right on Rowan’s route home from our dentist, so we got a surprise visit from our now-grown wee one. He will turn 22 next week. He is not one wee bit wee anymore. But you parents know how that works: It doesn’t matter how old they are, they are forever your babies.
Rowan is always a blast. It is obvious he not only knows how to read, he actually does it. There’s a brain in that thar boy! He’s also got music and art and politics in him. He’s got the proper amount of idealistic naiveté for his age too. The toddler-man’s got plans.
It’s obvious Rowan also has style too. I wrangled up a kids’ Tie o’ the Day for him to wear while I took pix of him, so he could guest-star here. Somehow, he ended up wearing three Ties o’ the Day from my collection. I also found myself giving him the three ties to take home– a sort of TIE O’ THE DAY doggie bag. I never give away my ties! Such is the dynamic power of Rowan’s soul. It was as if he mesmerized me into forking them over. Which I’m sure he did.
I am completely enamored with the diamond point-style Bow Tie o’ the Day in these pix. Paisley gets my style buds going, and these colors are madly lovely together. Of course, Bow Tie made for a perfect choice for our outdoor evening at Sundance Summer Theatre, for a performance of MAMMA MIA!
For dinner at Sundance, we partook of the theatre’s pre-show bbq. It was ok, but if we go up to watch another show, we’ll make dinner reservations at one of the resort’s restaurants. The bread pudding was tasty, but the rest of the food was kinda bland. My fave part of the bbq was the squirrel that made a slap-dash foray across the length of the picnic table in front of ours. The table was full of folks eating, but the squirrel didn’t care. If it had been wearing tap shoes, it would have made a stupefying clatter. It was a swell floorshow just as it was.
The other thing I liked about the bbq is that the tablecloth fabric pattern made it seem like I picked out my shirt for the purposes of both clashing and matching my shirt with the picnic squares design. I sorta looked like I was wearing a shirt made of a blue picnic tablecloth. I can live with that look, of course.
I must mention to y’all that the couple sitting behind me and Suzanne in one photo have absolutely nothing to do with us. The grouchy photo bombers were simply there, in photo after photo I took. Because you’ve seen them here, they are now famous photo guest stars on TIE O’ THE DAY. And they don’t even know it.
As for MAMMA MIA!, I’ll say the same thing I say about almost any musical: “It was a little too sing-y and dance-y for me.” That doesn’t mean it wasn’t fun. Hey, I’m the one whose idea it was to go to the show in the first place. I think ABBA’s songs hold up, but for no logical reason I can fathom. As far as I’m concerned, it was a fine evening during which we saw two shows. We saw MAMMA MIA! performed on a stage in the glorious mountains. And we saw the bonus show in which Rocky the Squirrel did some bare-paw tap-dancing and table-romping. I’d go again, just for that.
Magnet, wood Bow Tie o’ the Day had to chauffeur me home after my eye doc appointment. I was askeered I would be pulled over on I-15 for DWD: Driving While Dilated.
I was once pulled over on Legacy Parkway for a different kind of DWD that I’ve only experienced in Utah: Driving While Democrat. My bumper stickers about peace, love, and understanding “seemingly” screamed it out loudly to the officer who pulled me over for no other apparent reason that either of us could figure out. (I say “seemingly” because I’m actually a registered Republican.) The officer and I chatted amicably. We had just moved to Davis County, so I figured he was the Davis County version of the Welcome Wagon. No warnings or citations were issued. To this day, I am still wondering what that episode was truly all about. A Utah DWD is the best answer I can come up with. Perhaps the officer just wanted an up-close, real-life look at what he thought was a Utah Democrat. Those things are seen about as often as Bigfoot, jackalope, and snipes– combined.
[THIS IS A REQUESTED RE-POST OF A 2018 POST. I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT. AGAIN.]
I have seen the sun set over the Atlantic Ocean, from a castle turret on a hill on the west coast of Ireland. I have driven down Main Street in Delta, UT with a wind-blown tumbleweed the size of a Christmas tree stuck in the front grill of my car. I have mooned. I have streaked. I have sat naked in a lawn chair at a nude beach in Rehoboth, Delaware. I have canoed on the Potomac River while eating sushi.
In honor of the craziness of the Delta Fourth of July chairs-on-main-street-for-days custom, I have set up lawn chairs– and tied them together– on the side of the road in front of the Delta house, to create a fake 4th of July parade route, complete with horse poop and saltwater taffy scattered in the road. And Mom and I have sat in those lawn chairs, waiting for the parade that never came– just so people could see us and wonder. (And a parade did come by once. Story to be told later.)
I have drunk shots of pepper vodka on a picnic blanket, at an Allison Krauss concert, on the grass in front of the Washington Monument. I have driven in the West Desert for hours at night, with my lights off, while listening to music no one’s ever heard of. I have been trapped in a stuck elevator. I have played arcade games along the Jersey Shore. I have been to Six Flags amusement parks in three different states. I have returned a lost wallet.
I have taught every type of writing class they offer at The University of Utah and at Salt Lake Community College. I have led book groups for inmates at the Utah State Prison. I have taught writing in a middle school in inner-city Baltimore. I have twice run the Georgetown 10K in D.C. while drunk. I have seen Dad catch fish bare-handed. I have spent 24 hours in Boston, and I saw everything there was to see. I have seen over 100 concerts in my life. I have ice skated all the way across the Reservoir and back. I have had 2/3 of my pancreas hacked away. I have seen a jackalope and a chupacabra in the same night.
But the one thing I have not experienced until now is an event called FLANNELRAMA at JOANN’s.
Bow Tie o’ the Day and I have now seen and done everything.
Loud Tie o’ the Day is doing a pretty good job of seeing me through what I consider to be a traumatic whirlwind o’ recent bow tie change. I know this bow tie business move isn’t traumatic to anyone else, but to me and my gaggle of bow ties, it’s a bigly deal: Beau Ties Ltd. of Vermont, the company that is my biggest and most favoritest maker o’ handmade bow ties, has been sold! New owner. Newly renovated website. No more t-shirts, pint glasses, coffee mugs, hats, Christmas ornaments, or other do-dads covered in bow ties for sale! It’s making me dizzy to think that the Beau Ties Ltd. of Vermont water bottle I have will now have to last me the entire rest of my life. That’s a scary thought. How much should I insure my Beau Ties water bottle for in case it gets damaged, stolen, or lost– even though it can’t be replaced? That precious light blue, bow tie-emblazoned water bottle just got bigly more valuable to my heart.
I am a bit offended Beau Ties Ltd. of Vermont didn’t consult me and my TIE O’ THE DAY operation before selling the biz. I mean– they sort of know me. When I first discovered them about four years ago, I ordered some “butterfly jumbo” style bow ties from their factory. I liked the style so well that I didn’t order any other style for my first few purchases. A few months into my online customer-hood with them, I ordered a bow tie made in a “slimline standard” style. A few hours after I hit the return key and sent that order, one of the good folks at Beau Ties gave me a call. A few of them remembered I had never ordered a “slimline standard” style of bow tie before, and they were calling me to make sure I hadn’t ordered the “slimline standard” by mistake. They knew me and my orders almost from the start. By now, they know I order all the styles they offer. The sad thing about them knowing my neckwear likes and dislikes, though, is that we don’t have a need to chat on the phone anymore. But still… They could have checked in with me before selling the company.
It’ll probably be just fine. The company’s name remains the same. The Beau Ties seamstresses remain the same. The bow ties will still be handmade. But I guess I won’t be able to order any more Beau Ties Ltd. of Vermont t-shirts and mugs. I do hope the new owner decides to offer those kinds of things again. I like to order bow tie stuff I don’t need. How else am I gonna clutter-up the house?
I am not against change. I am against that period of time you have to go through between the moment you find out the change happened and that moment when you finally know exactly what the change is really going to mean for you. And by “you,” I mean “me.” How is the change going to affect me, me, me? And I don’t think I’m the only “me” who feels that way about change.
Please, excuse our recent absences. Sometimes we layabouts actually engage in endeavors which require our single-minded, serious attention. Everything this week has been all about Mom, who suffered a health setback a few days ago. She seems to finally be “getting her rally on,” so we are cautiously contemplating the old dame sticking around for another 88 years. At least. Mom’s tough and spunky, and still loving the party atmosphere at Millard Care and Rehab. But we also know even the toughest Energizer Delta Rabbit Oak City-bred Gal has a finite amount of “rally.” Apparently, Mom’s still got some in her reserve tank. Yahoo! You, go, girl!
When we visited Mom yesterday, Skitter wore her new patriotic Tie o’ the Day. I sported my lavender, floppy Bow Tie o’ the Day. As Skitter and I were winding down our visit with Helen Sr., Gracie waltzed in for her turn to be the center of Mom’s attention. As you can see, Grace Anne wore her own Bow Tie o’ the Day for the occasion.
Gracie happily brought Bishop Travis (in his Tie o’ the Day) and Bishopette Collette all the way from BYU-ville to visit Mom. I thought Gracie’s allowing them to come with her to MCR was an incredibly thoughtful gesture for such a young bambino to display. You know how selfish some babies can be, especially about driving! Clearly, Gracie is not all about Gracie, Gracie, Gracie. See, she’s learned one of Mom’s Top 10 lessons already in her teeny life: Be generous.
BTW When I tried to exit Mom’s room yesterday, Skitter refused to leave her. She was determined to lie on the bed at Mom’s side. At least three times, she fought the leash as I tried to drag her from the bed. I finally had to lift her down to the floor and skedaddle with her. She and Mom are sooooo connected to each other.
Bow Tie o’ the Day and I were going through our VOGUE magazine again. This time, we found a little somethin’, somethin’ within my dream style parameters! Doesn’t this attire scream out my name? Oh, raggedy clash! And the hair! C’mon, this look reeks of clash fashion statement funkadelia. I can totally see me wearing this as I dash through the aisles of Dick’s Market, buying a baguette and ice cream.
