Witty & Wise Ties, Trivia & Lies
Pumpkin skull and crossbones Bow Tie o’ the Day was a hit at the deli this afternoon. Bigly spiderweb Face Mask o’ the Day got a few compliments, too. I was mostly occupied in my head with praising today’s rain showers. To me, Fall rain means it’s time to dig through the closet and find my fedora. It is now the fedora time o’ year. 🎩 (Please, pretend the top hat is a fedora.)
I took this selfie at Harmon’s in Farmington, where I was grocery shopping. After I got home and looked at the photos to choose one to post, I got a bit skeered myself. The spiders/spider webs Bow Tie o’ the Day and the carved pumpkin Face Mask o’ the Day were both fun-looking enough on their own, but my so-pale-I’m-glowing skin looked like I had whitewashed my face before heading out to shop. Put it all together and I unwittingly achieved a sort of Lon-Chaney-in-Phantom-o’-the-Opera look. Kinda shocking when you’re not expecting it, eh? Needless to say, no shopper in the store dared to come down any aisle where I pushed my cart. I felt magic. It was a quiet and pleasant shopping venture—except for a toddler who caught a glimpse of my face, immediately screamed, and then began to cry. Yup, this look is just not family-friendly. But I still stand by the killer fashion, of course. 🕸🕷🎃💀
Striped Bow Tie o’ the Day and I are aware that growing older can sometimes be jolting. More often than not, growing older means making a series of unanticipated small adjustments. Take closed captioning, for example. You know it’s a service that lives somewhere there in your television’s settings, but you never think about it. You go decades without ever contemplating turning the CC setting to ON. Think about how many televisions you’ve owned in your adult life, and then think about how many of them you turned on the CC for. I’m guessing most of you folks have never used that service. A few of you older ladies and gentlemen might admit that the CC on your current tv gets some use. I certainly never imagined I’d be using CC, but now I freely admit that I always have the CC setting on, and CC it’s on all 3 of our tv’s. It’s a godsend for me. But using it happened sort of by accident. And it’s just another thing in my life that is all Mom’s fault.
A few years ago, each time Mom would stay with us, we noticed we had to consistently crank up the tv volume in order for her to hear what was happening on screen. Adding to the noise pollution in the living room was the fact that Mom and I were always having a conversation over the tv sound. One evening Mom was sitting on the couch and Suzanne and I were siting on the love seat watching who-knows-what on the turned-way-up tv. Mom and I were loudly chatting/yelling up a storm about some relative or other, and I turned to say/yell something to Suzanne. OMGolly! Suzanne’s face was frozen by all the Mom/me/TV noise. She was pale and petrified. She was afraid to move. I quickly diagnosed her problem. I got really close to Suzanne’s ear and calmly said, “Run for the stairs. Go up to the bedroom and close the door. Don’t come down until Mom’s asleep and there is no noise except her snoring.” That’s when I knew something had to be done. Mom wouldn’t consider getting hearing aids. So I found the CC setting, and turned it to ON whenever Mom visited. I still had to yell slightly to talk to Mom, but I didn’t have to out-yell the too-loud tv, so Suzanne’s ears didn’t get injured enough to make her catatonic anymore.
As my own hearing sputtered with age, and after one of Mom’s later visits with us, I left the CC setting to ON for a week or so. I found I liked it. We’ve had it on for years now. Between my hearing aids and the closed captioning, the tv volume is able to be in a normal range. I tell you this long story of CC because—for some unknown reason—for the past two weeks, the CC on my tv is discombobulated on one of its lines. In between working properly, it gives basically the same wrong “translation” over and over, no matter what is said on the tv: “Hmm, 1 des0erate need.” It does it on every channel, no matter what I’m watching. At first, I thought, “Oh, goody! It’s a secret code for me to figure out.” Then it just got annoying.
And so I’m griping. I’m not griping about being old enough to find comfort in the joys of closed captioning. I’m griping that this service I never dreamed I would ever need is not working. I made the adjustment of letting myself come to count on it, and recently I can’t. It gives me a headache to go back and forth between the correctly captioned words and then the stoopid “Hmm, 1 des0erate need.” I’ve had to jack up the tv sound again. I’m sure it’s a temporary thing, and CC will be back to normal soon. But until then, every once in a while, I swear I can hear my own voice in my own head turn very crotchety and spoiled and dramatic, and say, “They need to fix this right this minute. Don’t they realize how many of us old farts depend on CC? This is not fair.” Yeah, cuz malfunctioning closed captioning is the bigliest problem in the whole wide world right now.📺🤓
I have no clue why I felt like wearing my St. Louis wood Bow Tie o’ the Day, but I don’t have time to figure it out right now. Tomorrow is Mom’s 91st birthday, and Miss Tiffany squeezed me into her salon schedule so I could get a fresh hairscut. I wouldn’t want to disappoint Mom, who expects such things of me and my hairs.
I thought maybe I should shop for a new outfit to wear to visit Mom on her birthday this weekend. My first high-style shopping started exactly where it always does: I consulted with VOGUE magazine. That’s where I discovered this toasty number. You’ll note that the sweater’s neck is so high that I won’t even need to wear a separate Face Mask o’ the Day. When she sees me wearing this, Mom will be surprised only by the fact I’m wearing heels. ðŸ‘
I have news! First—and most important—Millard Care and Rehab is once again open to visitors. I will be hugging Mom—live and in person—on her actual birthday this weekend. The old broad’s hugs and kisses have always been grand, but somehow they are especially dear to me since Mom has been in the care center. We can’t wait to see her. Skitter is already practicing her rendition of the “Happy Birthday” song for Mom.
The second bit o’ news I can give out to y’all is that my pancreas surgery has been officially re-scheduled. I’m scheduled to be going under the proverbial knife at Huntsman in mid-October. I do hope the operation doesn’t need to be pushed back again. I’m ready for this to be done, whatever the outcome. Cross your fingers, toes, and pancreases that the surgery will happen as scheduled.
You’re already looking at the third bit o’ news. Today, I purposely tried to match by going all houndstoothy with floppy houndstooth Bow Tie o’ the Day and houndstooth Face Mask o’ the Day. (I don’t think I own a houndstooth shirt, but don’t quote me on that. I must research it.) What really makes this extra-bigly news is that matching these two items of my attire did not even make me break out in hives or hyperventilate. Perhaps I’m finally growing up and out of my unconventional ways. But I doubt it.🤓
A day before my surgery was cancelled, a package showed up at my front door. It was from Becca Crane. I have never met her, but she has been a regular TIE O’ THE DAY reader for years. The package she sent was full of movies and treats, meant for me to indulge in during my post-surgery recovery. When the surgery was postponed, I had a dilemma: do I indulge in the movies and treats right now, or do I wait until after my surgery—whenever the heck it is re-scheduled? I decided I would show restraint and wait. Well, it’s been a few weeks now since the care package showed up, and today I gave in to my curious sweet tooth. Cork Bow Tie o’ the Day and I scrounged through the treats contained in the package and found this BOX OF BOOGERS among the offerings. For whatever reason, boogers sounded like just the thing for my breakfast this morning. I don’t know exactly what that says about me, but it does say that my never-met pal, Becca, knows me very well.🤡
Bow Tie o’ the Day and I just returned home from 6 hours of escorting Rowan from his apartment to his dentist, and back to his apartment again. He had his teeth cleaned and 2 cavities filled. It was a long day. As far as I’m concerned, the only thing more mind-numbing than a trip to the dentist is somebody else’s trip to the dentist. I am nearly comatose. But I did want to check in today and say “howdy” to y’all. 😩
Bow Ties o’ the Day send a hearty MERRY BIRTHDAY! to the first-born of the Ron and Helen Wright clan: my sister, Betty. She is more commonly known to her friends and family as BT or Bett. I call her Mercedes. She is not just my blood sibling. We are also linked by a fascination with words and what words can accomplish. We understand their power to elucidate complexities and to inspire change. We share the belief that words are real tools that can be wielded as compassionate embraces or as destructive weaponry. We both read like there’s no tomorrow. We both write. We take notes on everything we see, read, or do. We study as if there’s going to be a quiz. And there is, in fact, a quiz. It’s called life, and it happens every day we’re alive. The words we read and write and say—and the actions the words make happen—will determine if we pass. Mercedes is at the top of her class, as per usual. She aces the bigly test every day.
BTW For those of you who don’t know, Mercedes is the bride in the photo. I’m the wee beast. My Sister Who Wishes To Remain Nameless (SWWTRN) completes our sisters trio.
Nope. Mom never goes anywhere without a housecoat. She still has one hanging here in our front closet, as is probably the case at BT/Mercedes’ and Ron’s homes, too. Her nightgown and housecoat will be here—hanging right where they’ve hung for the last decade—for Mom in case she’s ever able to visit for a sleepover again. She is always welcome here, even though Millard Care and Rehab is the place she needs to be.
In Mom’s nearly 91 years, she has been a part of a slew of amazing stories, which she has never tired of telling us kids about. I’ve been thinking I should share some of the more obscure knee-slappers with you. I was going to start with the tale of what happened one night with Mom, her sister, Rosalie, and Rosalie’s husband, Boyd. But, upon further thought, I’m probably not allowed to tell that one, no matter how amusing it was. So then I decided to tell you the one about the camper Dad built and about the many members of the Delta 2nd Ward who borrowed it. But I’m forbidden from telling you that story, too. So then I decided to tell you the story of how Mom bought a dark, long-haired wig in Provo, just to freak out Dad. But, again, I can’t tell that tale to y’all either, now that I think of it. Nor can I tell you the story of Mom and Dad and the bee yard with an electric fence. That story is not for those readers who are faint of heart or could expire due to excessive laughter—because TIE O’ THE DAY doesn’t carry life insurance for its readers.
I will try to think of some of Mom’s tamer true tales.