Author: wetleatherdog@gmail.com

Tie o’ the Day #2 comes from Stacy Adams. My “blouse” is a Gap, classic fit. No pocket on the shirt, unfortunately. A pocket square matching the bow tie would be a fab look to walk around in.

Just pretend the polka dots on Tie o’ the Day #2 are Easter eggs if this colorful garb isn’t pastel-y  and, therefore, Easter-y enough for you.

Suzanne brought the high-fallutin’ carpet scrubber down to The Beach House for the week, to scrub the couch and chairs we are selling.  When Suzanne’s sewing machine hasn’t been creating noise pollution in the living room during the past few days, her carpet shampooer has been. The dogs are sore afraid of all the racket, but are pleased with having a clean couch to cover in their fur again.

When we live only in C-ville, the mutts will miss being able to romp and run, unleashed, in the outside wilds of Deltabama. They have such freedom to safely dog around here. I hope they will remember their D-ville life fondly, while embracing the finer aspects of citified living. Perhaps I can teach them how to sneak into concerts and museums so they can be edified by the arts.

Skitter had already slipped into this orange and brownish Tie o’ the Day #1 (a VAN HEUSEN), when we read Mercedes’ comment about her not being all hepped up about 70’s colors. Hey, Mercedes, remember Mom’s orange carpet in the living room? And how the entire wall going into the bathroom was carpeted in the stuff? But we all survived it, not much worse for the experience. I guess.

Some mutts like to curl up inside blankets to nap. Skitter prefers to stretch out in a tie to do her daily dozing. But I did a bad tie thing yesterday. I will be paying for it for the near future. I made the mistake of going uptown to do some errands, but I had forgotten to wear a tie. Let’s just say that I was hardly recognizable at Verizon and Quality Market. I was read the riot act at both locations. Of course, I immediately blamed it on Skitter’s and Roxy’s thieving ways. I said they must have pick-tied me on my way out of the house.

Tie o’ the Day #2 be another Tommy Hilfiger. It has a light blue, denim-looking background with fluorescent pink paisley paisles. Shirt is a Code Blew from the late 80’s.

With clothes, I’ve always been partial to bright and/or bold colors and designs. When I lived in the D.C. area, I had a blinding orange t-shirt and baseball hat which I wore whenever we ventured out to crowded outdoor events. No matter how many people were in our group, if we got split up, I was the lighthouse. Everyone could see me easily, so I was the meeting up spot no matter where I was. I was that dot on the signs that says YOU ARE HERE. (FYI! That was in the eon before cell phones, young folks.)

I wasn’t a fan of the landscape back there, especially the sky. But I do miss the boatload of “free” museums and events and monuments in that area. Our taxes pay for all those remarkable things, and I don’t mind that one bit.

And here’s a thing about the idea that government (and by “government” I mean city, county, state, federal) should be run like a business: The government is not a business. The government’s purpose is not to make money. The government’s purpose is to provide services and protection for its citizens. These things cost money. We citizens pay the costs because we are the ones who receive the services, protection, and benefits.

 

Tie o’ the Day #1 is a Tommy Hilfiger. I love the pointy bow ties. Their cuteness never gets old. This is our first tie foray into Easter colors, for the purposes of tipping our hats to the Easter holiday. So prepare for springy, pastel neckwear and shirts for the next week. This shirt is neither springy nor pastel. It is, however, a…..SAY IT WITH ME, TBLOGOPHILES…..Bugatchi.

We couldn’t have an Easter egg hunt today, if we wanted to. The wind would blow the carefully hidden eggs to Moab. I can see it now: a tornado funnel made entirely of plastic, pastel Easter eggs. And when the funnel petered out, some community would be blessed by the raining down of eggs with goodies inside.

I’m not engaging in hyperbole (not much, anyway) about the strength of today’s blowhard wind. When Skitter was squatting to pee this morning, the wind blew her over. Poor Skitter. She is scared of everything but us, and even the weather assaults her. On the other paw, there is no category of hurricane or tornado that can budge Roxy’s girth. Perhaps when it’s windy we should leash Skitter to her, so Roxy can keep her anchored to the earth.

Just colors and squares for Tie o’ the Day #2 (DOCKERS) and Shirt o’ the Day #2 (Bugatchi), as well.

More yammering on the morrow.🤡

Tie o’ the Day #1 is an ALFANI. Button-down, pocket-bearing shirt is a houndstooth Bugatchi.

In a recent Letter to the Editor in The New Yorker, a writer references an 1891 Oscar Wilde essay called “The Decay of Lying”. In his essay, Wilde tells us that “the true liar” can be recognized by his “frank, fearless statements, his superb irresponsibility, his healthy, natural disdain of proof of any kind!” Alternative facts, anyone? Policy by Twitter, my friends? Can you say OLIGARCHY?

In the same issue of The New Yorker, on the same Letter to the Editor page, another writer talks about the idea bruited around that Trump acts like a child. This writer says, “This is an affront to children everywhere: children are not inherently narcissistic, ignorant, cruel, or vindictive. They tend to accept other human beings with an open mind and heart, without prejudice. Would that a five-year-old were our President.”

Ponder that, folks.

Tie o’ the Day #2 is a remarkably beautiful pink/blue/purple bow tie from Stacy Adams. Shirt is a thirty-year-old stussy.

I remember walking through Nordstrom’s at Crossroads Mall in Salt Lake City, in the late 80’s–when out of nowhere, the buttons on this black shirt called my name. I will never tire of their varied sizes and pearl essence. This is a shirt I will have until the day my Hanky Panky finally does me in. I do need to wear it more than I do, but I have always had this little problem about wearing something speshul. I try to “save” it so I don’t ruin it. That is so stoopid, so I’m working on being better at actually wearing my fave-rave clothes. If wearing my best duds out into the world wears them out, then so be it. It’s the circle of clothing life, isn’t it?

Tie o’ the Day #1 is a pierre cardin. Fluttery stripes created out of small squares. Shirt’s an old stripey CHAPS. The shirt kinda reminds me of Dad’s overalls. The combination of this shirt and Dad’s overalls would be a prime example of clash fashion. It’s a safe bet that you will see that ‘fit show up on this tblog.

We just got finished eating “dinner” at Mom’s. Although technically “dinner” is an evening meal, I have always felt like the afternoon meal is either lunch or dinner, based on the dishes served. Something lighter, like a sandwich, is lunch. Something more substantial, like a roast, is dinner. However, the mid-day meal is the only meal that can be accurately designated as one of two different names. For example, breakfast is always breakfast; brunch is always brunch; the evening meal is always dinner. But depending on what is on your plate, the mid-day meal is either lunch or dinner.

Now, that was a truly interesting voyage into sociolinguistics, wasn’t it? Yes, I think about such topics. Why? I have no idea. Anyhoo…

Mom’s table was surrounded by me, Suzanne, Gary, Kathi, and Ritchi. Mom didn’t sit down to eat, but walked around the kitchen doing vague things to make sure we were all feasting away voraciously. Roast, mashed potatoes, carrots, green beans, stuffing (from Anne), rolls. OMGolly, there was plenty o’ nourishment to farctate the county. And then right when we are done eating, and we have pushed back our chairs from the table, Mom grows a lightbulb above her head and exclaims, “I forgot the salad in the fridge.” Sure enough, she retrieves a green salad from the fridge and tries to feed it to us before we leave. (We cannot eat one more calorie, Mom, or we will explode and implode and combust, simultaneously.) But there is no telling Mom “no”. She simply doesn’t hear that word when it comes to her putting food on your plate. Selective hearing is a skill she has mastered. In fact, it’s the only kind of hearing she can still manage to do.

 

Tie o’ the Day #2 is a satin pink bow tie from KNOTS FOR HOPE, benefitting the Suzanne G. Komen fund. I’m wearing it with my #WarriorsForWhitney t-shirt.

Jake’s Jess and her friends are currently rallying community support–monetary donations and otherwise–for Whitney Shurtz. She is a married mother of four young kids, and has been recently diagnosed with breast cancer. She faces an unbelievable battle right now: double mastectomy, radiation, and chemo therapy. The Delta community is being incredibly supportive. Living in a small town has its benefits. We are all very much aware that when something happens to one person here, it happens to everyone. I wish we all saw the entire world like that. Now, this is where you go read John Donne’s “No Man is an Island”. Ponder it.

There is no polite way to put it: CANCER SUCKS!

Tie o’ the Day #1 says, “Howdy!” A wild, many-patterned Stacy Adams, it is. Shirt is a Carbon, from Rue 21. I do not recommend their button-down shirts. They are the wrinkliest shirts I have ever been acquainted with. I only own two of them, but they are definitely going in the impending yard sale. I may have to pay someone to take them away, but it will be worth it. If I decide to be magnanimous, I will throw in my iron for good measure.

Mom and Peggy have a fetish about ironing clothes. They both find it appalling whenever they see someone sporting a wrinkle in their clothes at church. On our drinking and driving adventures, it is a routine topic of conversation for them. Mom consistently jokes about how she and Peggy want to put an ad in The Chronicle, offering lessons in the art of ironing; but they don’t do it cuz they say no one even knows what an iron is. Mom often threatens to go over to Kathi’s and iron Bosten’s shirts, so he can wear crisp, wrinkle-free shirts to church. I have told her to quit fussing about it  and just be glad he showed up for church.

Suzanne often irons, but she mostly irons material that she is going to use to sew/craft with. Occasionally, if the ironing board is up, she irons my church pants. I’m sure she does it just to keep Mom from belly-aching at me about my duds in church.

And here’s a thing for the group of LDS women who are trying to get LDS church leaders to ok the wearing of pants in church for women who prefer to do that: Put your neatly ironed big girl pants on, one leg at a time–as they say–and go to church. I do. And I’m as welcome as can be.