Author: wetleatherdog@gmail.com

The other IZOD argyles had a little send-off for that bloody St. Paddy’s Day Tie o’ the Week. We all ate funeral potatoes and drank Mormon, 7-Up punch.😄😅😁😃😂

I love that green argyle tie. It has been a good sport. And geez, that spunky trouper/trooper has endurance, don’t it? But it’s going to the bottom of the tie rack for a bloody long leave-of-absence. Thank you all for your patience with the week-long gimmick. Someday, we will laugh about all this.

 

Day Seven! Shirt #1. A Bugatchi.

I had reached my top nerve! But I didn’t throw in the beach towel. I found a solution that weighs a bit heavier around my neck. But it’s worth it. The second Tie o’ the Day is a paisley Dockers. I know you are wondering why I didn’t choose another green tie to go with The Tie o’ the Week argyle IZOD, but I needed a short break from the color as well.

I’m learning to tblog from my nook today. Thank you, Suzanne, for giving me another birthday present of setting up all this tblog site stuff on the nook for me, so I can tblog from anywhere I be–without lugging our desktop computer everywhere I travel. Suzanne also told me to get a laptop, so any store that sells Macs better get ready for our purchasing power.😃

I’m headed down to Deltabama this afternoon. And the plan is to bring Mom up north with me for a few days when I come back up. Mercedes is cleaning her genealogy stuff out of Mom’s room at P-view, as we speak. I’m sure a fun time will be had by all, as Aunt Molly used to write at the end of her Oak City column which appeared in The Chronicle every week–before privacy was invented.😉

Tie o’ the Week 🤢. Day Six, #2.

Tonight I will be eating my birthday dinner at Chez Suzanne, at our Townhouse By The Church. She asked where I wanted to go out to eat for the occasion. Since she can find a dish that conforms to her diet ONLY at Applebee’s, she is sick of that being our go-to, eat-out restaurant. I know she would have agreed to dine anywhere I picked, cuz it’s my speshul day. And I didn’t want to inflict Applebee’s on her again. Instead, I have inflicted upon her the duty of preparing my birthday dinner. No surprise what I asked for: Suzanne’s salmon. Best. Ever.

I have no problem with the idea of turning 53. I still feel 17, attitude-wise. A much wiser 17, for sure. My body, however, does in fact feel 53. A couple of years ago I noticed that my face looked a bit older than I actually am. Suzanne had noticed it too. We had a “conference at the mound”, and decided that the extra wrinkles are due to my grimacing through Hanky Panky pain for the last 18 years, including in my sleep. I’m confident that ‘splains it perfectly, Lucy.

I’ve always said I wanted to have a sort of Georgia O’ Keefe-esque, chiseled face by the time I die. You know what I mean: Wrinkles and lines that basically map out your life on your face. I just didn’t think it would happen quite this soon. But I’d happily have a birthday every week, if I got Suzanne-baked salmon out of it.

Tie o’ the Week went with us to H and R Block to last night to help us get our taxes done. All went dandy. But it annoys the Heck Tate out of me that we always have to pay state taxes, no matter how bigly our federal refund might be. Do not misunderstand me: I do not begrudge paying taxes. I learned decades ago the truth of what Dad always told me about paying taxes: We get more out of a tax dollar than out of any dollar we spend otherwise. But come on, Utah. Get your tax code together!

According to both state and federal tax laws, I cannot claim my neckwear as dependents; but they are always welcome to live with us. They are every bit as much a part of our family as our mutts.  You should see our Homely Family Evenings!

In fact, Suzanne and I have even considered not selling the Beach House, for the sole purpose of using it to house ALL my ties and bow ties. They could enjoy the place the way we used to, right down to spending time on the porch. And they would feel comfortable enough to be outside to do the yard work that desperately needs to be done. Nobody is angry enough at them to put them in danger. On the other hand, if the house went up in flames, they would be trapped. It’s a big decision for us.

The above shirt is from our trip to Disneyworld back in 2004. The “Grumpy” name tag expresses my current, Day Six feeling about this foray into Tie o’ the Week. You can bet I will not attempt this again. Even Mercedes has made known her boredom with days of looking at the same tie. I’m relieved to know it’s not just me dealing with such impatience.

I am so bloody tired of this purty Tie o’ the Week!

Thursday, Day Five, Shirt #2. A CHAPS design again, as well. Will this tie horror ever end? It’s like the movie Groundhog Day, but with neckwear. Sing it with me, people: “I got you, tie.”

Suzanne says no one will fault me if I cease this particular tblog fashion experiment. But I told you I was going to do it, and so I will see it through to its completion. Call me Horton! “I meant what I said, and I said what I meant. A tie tblogger’s faithful one-hundred percent.”

I do think the experiment has been successful in proving the point that a single tie has the ability to create a variety of splendid clashes. But I’m still anxiously engaged in counting down the days. Can’t wait until Sunday morning’s Church Bow Tie!

Day Five, Shirt #1. CHAPS. I adopted this colorful shirt from Kohl’s yesterday, for a grand total of a bigly $1.34. According to the price tag, its price began at 60 buckaroos. I found it on the clearance rack priced at $16.50, after a couple of previous price reductions. And then…Voila! I had a $15 birthday coupon from Kohl’s, and I added to that a percent-off coupon, and the price fell to that bigly $1.34. Now that, I could afford.

I get such a thrill out of exercising my right to be thrifty. I could further improve my thriftiness on clothes, if I could manage to buy wardrobe from Deseret Industries. Alas, I get weebs and geebos when I try to wear pre-worn clothes, including ties, no matter how many times I wash or dry clean them. I’m not being snooty about it. It’s more of a phobia. I am, however, happy to donate to D.I. as much as possible.

I do want you all to know that my thrift has a couple more limits. I do not engage in extreme couponing, nor do I spend my days walking the aisles of stores in the hope of finding bargains: I have a real life, full of countless other things to do.🙃

Well, heck! Wednesday, Day Four, Shirt #2. Designed by CHAPS. I promise this is the same tie. The lighting is causing it to appear more yellow than the bright green it is. Count that as one of my photography/techno faults. Perhaps it happens only to me, but technology can make me feel inept and obsolete. So I try to stick with things that make me feel ept. Pretty much, that boils down to writing poetry, which is a solo effort. Thus, nobody gets to watch me be ept at a skill. That’s probably why I like being a hermit for about 20 hours of the day.

When it comes to being a people-person, I’m a great dog-person.

Finally! We are caught up to today! Wednesday, Day Four, Garb #1. Shirt is by CHAPS, and ain’t it jail stripey? Even though these patterns clash, they clash matching-ly. Very nice look, if you ask me. And I suppose that if you’re reading this tblog, you are sort of asking me what I think.

What Mom thinks about things is never a mystery. She is not shy about opining about any topic. In fact, she’s even good at opining about non-topics (un-topics?). She doesn’t need something to talk about. She can just…well…talk.

I’ve been asked if I record Mom telling her stories. I probably should, but I don’t need to. Point at a house, a road, a store, or a person anywhere in Delta or on television. Throw me a topic, any topic. And I can tell you, word for word, Mom’s take on it. I can do the meanderings, mispronunciations, antecedent-less pronouns, etc. I can even tell you the stories in the exact ways her mind has recently mixed things up.

In her 86 years, she’s seen the most dynamic changes in the world’s history. I’m glad she has something to say about it all. That means she knows she’s still here, and that she knows she’s still actively part of the goings-on. You go, old girl! I mean– You stay, old girl!

This is the tblog for Tuesday, March 7, Day Three. Get-up #2. Here’s an Old Navy shirt from their PLAID collection. Remember that our Tie o’ This Week is from IZOD. It is kinda hard for me to stick with the same tie for an entire week, but I shall do it for the Clash Fashion cause. I hope this experiment is not monotonous for you.

Erin go Bragh/Braugh is the anglicization of the Irish language phrase, Eirinn go Brach, which basically means “Ireland Forever.”

I, however, prefer my own version: Error in go Bra! Loosely (pun intended) translated, this means that it is an error to wear a bra, unless absolutely necessary. Or, in even looser (pun intended again) words, “Bra-less Forever!”

 

 

 

Tuesday, Day Three, Outfit #1. Top o’ the mornin’ to ya! Here’s the Bugatchi o’ the Day! All I can say is Bugatchi better get its corporate butt in gear and start sponsoring me and this tblog. I mean–actual people actually ask me the for the actual brand name of these actual shirts, and they actually ask me where I actually purchase these actual shirts. (Nordstrom Rack, BTW. From the “clearance” rack.)

All this green clothing/neckwear–and St. Paddy’s Day– has put Ireland in my head, wall-to-wall. My favorite place in said country was just outside Lisdoonvarna, in County Clare. Ballinalacken Castle is a sprawling Victorian lodge, and it stands beside the 16th-century O’Brien castle ruins. “Castle ruins” is a bit of hyperbole, since what remains of the castle is a round, rock, silo-shaped remnant of the bottom of a turret.

The lodge itself is surrounded by 100 acres of wildflower meadows. And it is situated on a hill, with a panoramic view of the Atlantic, the Aran Islands, Galway Bay, and the Connemara Hills. (Heard of Connemara marble, anyone? Gorgeous.) Sat on that hill and watched the sun mosey its way over the Atlantic for hours, until it finally slipped under the horizon, then under the water, at almost 11 PM.

And one of the best spaces in the kinda haphazard insides of Ballinalacken Castle was a dark wood pub, in a corner about the size of a medium-sized walk-in closet. You know I was in a beer heaven I can’t belong in anymore.

The room we stayed in at Ballinalacken was the least roomy in the lodge, and the only room in the place that had no windows. That’s how we rolled through Ireland. Drove all day, saw whatever interested us. When we were done for the day, we’d find a pricey hotel. I’d walk up to the front desk and say, “We want your worst room.” (I had to go in alone and do the asking, cuz it embarrassed Shari. Not that she minded the pricey digs one bit.) So that’s how we stayed in expensive hotels we couldn’t otherwise afford, all over Ireland for two weeks in 1997. Can’t believe it was 20 years ago. I clearly had a groovy time, as evidenced by the fact that I still remember how to spell “Lisdoonvarna” and “Ballinalacken”.