It’s time for a trip to Delta to visit Mom. I’m not sure exactly when I’m going to make the drive, but it will be soon. I like to plan my travel attire ahead of time, and today I came up with this outfit that seems appropriate to the current Delta weather. Fortunately, I have an umbrella-covered Face Mask o’ the Day and a raindrop and umbrella-covered Tie o’ the Day. My cow Sloggers boots should come in handy for wading through puddles and newly formed lakes, and my bigly floppy hat will keep the rain off my bald head. Yes, I think this will suit me well on my next trip to my hometown.
I’m not sure, but I think I had what could very well be my first “senior moment.” For the first time ever, I went to the grocery store, filled my cart, and then realized I had left my wallet at home. I had not yet tried to check out, so I was saved the indignity of screwing up with a line of busy customers behind me. I just tucked my full shopping cart to the side, up by customer service—where I caught the eye of a store clerk who I’m vaguely familiar with. I said, “I’ve left my wallet home. I’ll be right back. Can you keep an eye on my cart for a couple of minutes?” I dashed home and back, and my full cart was safe and sound when I returned.
This memory lapse will cost me. I already know that my fate is sealed on this point: for the rest of my Centerville life, whenever I pass this particular store clerk when I’m shopping at Dick’s Market, she will ask me if I remembered to bring my wallet this time. I’ll give my reply, and we’ll chuckle. Same joke, over and over again, probably weekly, probably for years. The joke will get old, but it’s just how it is with mere acquaintances in these contexts: you only “know” each other because of one odd occurrence, so you mention it in some way every time you meet up. It’s your one connection—the one thing that makes you not strangers.
As the future plays out, I’m sure I will occasionally decide I need to do my grocery shopping elsewhere because I simply won’t be able to stand the wallet question even one more time. But Dick’s Market is just around the block, so it’s too convenient for me to not patronize. Thus, I am doomed to my forgotten-wallet-reference-first-senior-moment fate until said store clerk retires or dies. Oh, well. My first senior moment could have been so much worse than a forgotten wallet, but let’s not think too hard about what those worse senior moment possibilities could be. 🤡
TIE O’ THE DAY is pleased to be able to share this photo of Mom. I had never seen it until Tom Lovell aimed it my way. Of course, I immediately knew I had to share it with y’all—however tieless it is. Mom’s style has always been a casual one.
After Skitter did a fine job starring in this morning’s post, I fully intended to share a fabulously exciting tale with y’all in this afternoon’s post. That was truly my plan. And then I looked at my honey-do list and realized my day was going to be all about getting the emissions on both of my vehicles tested, so I could get them officially registered for the coming year.
Indeed, I first drove Vonnegut Grace Vibe to Grease Monkey, where I quietly waited for the testing process to do its processing. While at Grease Monkey, I sat in their Monkey Pit and watched tv on my phone. Vonnegut Grace eventually passed her little test with the highest of grades. I paid her fees on the spot, and she drove us home with tremendous pride in herself. Even now, as she sits parked out front, she still has her chest puffed out for all the other cars in the neighborhood to see.
I worry every year about my truck, Hombre Hombre, passing emissions. She’s a 98, so she’s kinda jalopy-fied—which means she’s old and rusty and decrepit. She could fail her emissions test any year now. As we drove to Grease Monkey, I tried to build her confidence. I told her about The Little Engine That Could, and I told her not to worry because she had more clean emissions to her than any old train engine in a book. At Grease Monkey, Hombre got in line for her testing, and I went to sit and watch more tv on my phone in the Monkey Pit—with my fingers crossed to the vehicle emissions gods. Glory be! Hombre put up low, but passing, numbers for yet another year. Be still my heart! I was thrilled to be able to pay her taxes yet again.
So that was my day. Not fabulous. Not exciting. Just a day full of stuff that took a really long time, but had to be done. I’ll try to be fabulously exciting tomorrow for y’all. It could happen.
Polka dot Bow Tie o’ the Day and I did a bunch of Monday morning erranding around the Wasatch Front. It was only after I got back home that I realized I had completely forgotten to comb my hair before I left the house to conduct my business this morning. Oh, dear! I hope no one noticed. I’m mortified! 😏
TIE O’ THE DAY managed to dig up this ancient snapshot of today’s birthday boy, my bigly brother, Ron. Here, he is holding baby-me. I think carrying pudgy me around was part of Ron’s first weightlifting routine—getting him into shape for his storied football, baseball, and basketball mastery. He made a school career of being a savvy and skillful athlete. He was a guard on the only Delta High School boys’ basketball team to ever win a State Championship, in 1972. As far as I’m concerned, he’s still a champ. But now he’s a really old champ.
BTW Look! I have more hair on my noggin in this picture than I have on my head right now. (See yesterday’s post photo for comparison, if you haven’t seen my current extra-baldy look already.)
That’s my brother, Ron, in the middle. He’s my oldest brother, and it’s his birthday. He is a decade older and wiser than my 57. After all these years, I still claim him. Here, he’s flanked by me (and my cork rifle), and our brother, Rob. We’re on our front lawn, back when our house was a color I call 50’s-era pink. I’m assuming the pup there is new to the family and is the reason for the photo. I don’t know how it got the name, but the dog’s name really was Dumb Dumb—which is odd, because the word “dumb” was forbidden like a swear word in our house. That contradiction always puzzled me as a wee sprite.
TIE O’ THE DAY wishes you a swell birthday, Ronald!
I cannot be left to my own whims. Suzanne is going to be perturbed at me—or at least shocked. The handful of times in my life when I have felt the urge to get my head shaved, I have always gone with the #2 comb guide on the clipper. Today, while driving to my hairs appointment, Bow Tie o’ the Day whispered into my hearing aids, “Do something different. Try the #1 comb.” I thought to myself, “That’s something I’ve never done. It sounds like a dandy plan.” Like I always say, it really is okay to do some things just because you have never done them before. And so, when I greeted Miss Tiffany (isn’t she a cutie!?) at her new workspace, I told her to throw the #1 comb on the clippers. You can see that’s exactly what she did. I am fully aware it is not my best look, but I’m already glad I did it. It feels a lightyear different than the #2 comb shave. My head hairs now feel so not-there, and I can’t begin to accurately explain how interesting it feels to rub my own head. My hair feels like semi-soft sandpaper! My head is Velcro! Also, when I swam in the pool with this hairdo, I felt like I swam with all the speed and grace of a streamlined torpedo. I might, however, need to invest in a wig before Suzanne gets home from work and discovers what I have done. I am—as always—her cross to bear. It is true: I can’t take me anywhere.
