Witty & Wise Ties, Trivia & Lies
Here are a few old “photos” of my face in various X-mas guises; a couple of past holiday TIE O’ THE DAY selfies; and a wee collection of Christmas-related memes I enjoyed when they showed up on my computer screen this year. Enjoy!
I still have much to do before X-mas. I’ve got to remember where I hid the gifts I got for Suzanne so she wouldn’t find them. I secreted them away so brilliantly I can’t find ’em yet. I have to wrap our gifts for Mom, including the many candies she likes. We try to stick with sugar-free goodies for Big Helen, but we seem to “accidentally on purpose” make a habit of not being able to find sugar-free versions of what Mom likes. She’s my mother, so she will always get what she wants from me—which is real sugar. The list o’ my remaining Christmas tasks is long, so breaks are necessary to my sanity. So on this break, I’m just sittin’ around the house in my Bah Humbug Santa hat—while wearing soft antlers decorated with a ribbon Bow Tie o’ the Day on top. And I’m also showing off one of my CHRISTMAS VACATION Tie’s o’ the Day. Even as I rest, I am multi-tasking. No, wait—I’m multi-tieing!
Tie o’ the Day is a brand new acquisition to my holiday tie collection this year. It offers up, not gingerbread cookies, but NINJAbread cookies. A clever twist, I must say. Please note that Face Mask o’ the Day is covered with bow-tied deer. And my pants are Christmas-lighted. I’m a happy girl in my attire today.
Instead of regaling you with some anecdote or another, I have a question for my fellow Delta Rabbits. I woke up this morning thinking I should wash my truck later this afternoon, and that made me think of the old car wash in Delta. It was sort of on the north side of Main Street, across from where Quality is now located. I say it was sort of on Main Street because it was behind a house that was on that corner. I believe the older couple who lived in the house owned the car wash. They also owned and ran the little trailer park on Main Street beside the house. I can’t remember exactly what the little set-up was called. To the best of my recollection the sign said something like “The B Kitten Klean Car Wash and Trailer Park.” Somebody help me fill in the blanks of my memory. I can see the old couple as clear as day in my mind, but I can’t think of their names. Was it Larsen? Also, did I make up that there was a little RV-type trailer park there? I look forward to any answers y’all can provide.
Candy cane Bow Tie o’ the Day reminds me that I refer to all things peppermint as being “Christmas breath.” My pal, Kathleen Hansen, and I came up with that term when we were students at DHS and happened to be eating a bag of hard peppermint candies. I have no idea if she remembers we did that. I haven’t seen Kathleen in person—or even talked to her—since her first child was born in the early 80’s. It blows me away to write that sentence, because Kathleen was the closest I came to having a best friend in high school. To this day, peppermint candy of any sort reminds me of her and our various exploits—including the night we broke into DHS and left anonymous notes on the desks of the teachers and administrators. (I’ll have to write about that naughty and hilarious night—and the ensuing fall-out—in a future post.)
I have been going through some of my early writing this past week, and today I ran onto a story of mine in a copy of the SIGNPOST, the Weber State newspaper. It’s from Dec. 4, 1984—my last quarter in college. My story won 1st Place in that year’s Weber State Christmas story contest. It is the first published story for which I was “paid.” I won a $100 gift certificate to any store of my choosing in the Ogden City Mall. I still remember going to Nordstrom and buying my first pair of leather penny loafers. (I was ever so briefly a Preppie. Excuse me for that.) After re-reading the story today, I decided to do y’all a favor and not inflict it on you. After writing it 38 years ago, and not reading it since then, I find that I’m positive I can live without it. It is so bad, especially when compared to stories I wrote just a year later when I was in graduate school at the University of Utah. You’re lucky you didn’t get the opportunity to read it. I think it’s time to safely shred it and put it in the recycling.
But I want to point out some points of cosmic coincidence. First, there’s the candy cane bow tie which reminded me of “Christmas breath,” and then the term shows up in my story I haven’t read since the day it was published. I didn’t plan for that to happen. And then there’s the Dad stuff. Trust me when I tell you that the story reflected a lot about me and Dad, at a time when we were having problems communicating in our relationship. Note the date of the story’s publication: December 4, 1984. My dad passed away on December 4, 2007—23 years later. And don’t even get me started on the number 23’s significance throughout my life.
The Bow Tie o’ the Day I’m wearing is almost in hiding. I am doing a rare thing by being blendy, and it has turned out to be a highly successful attempt—especially from a distance. Fortunately, Bow Tie has green highlights on its red background and blue paisley fabric, so it distinguishes itself from my shirt the closer you get to it.
This faux tree sits atop Skitter’s living room crate. And this is what happens when Suzanne puts up a X-mas tree and leaves me alone at home with the un-ornamented thing. The ornament-free Christmas tree looked so lonely as it stood across the room from me. The tree’s loneliness vibes caused me to start reading all kinds of bereft Robert Frost poems—one of which is actually called “Bereft.” So I felt I must dress the faux tree with a few jolly ornaments. The Christmas-colors bow tie at the top was a no-brainer, as was the mostly-green elf-ish necktie with all its crafty bling and sparkle. The Rosie the Riveter ornament is close to the top, displaying the saying that often accompanies images of her: “We can do it!” Down, and to the side of the tie, the red sewing machine ornament is in honor of Suzanne’s cape-making skills. Under the necktie, the ornament is a bag o’ potato chips—also for Suzanne. And finally, the last ornament I hung was in the guise of a box o’ crayons. I am convinced world peace could finally cover the entire planet, if every person on earth had a crayon in their hands at the very same moment. Drawing with crayons has a universal calming effect. As for the overall look of the tree, I have a suspicion the tree will look very different, soon after Suzanne gets home from work and gazes at it in all its faux magnificence. 🎄
TIE O’ THE DAY doesn’t lie. It’s just 3 selfies from past holiday posts.
This is the third year in a row I have posted the same pix of me wearing this onesie/thong holiday-wear which some reader sent me in 2020. So far, the first photo is perfect for showing off this revealing oddity o’ clothing someone so graciously gifted me, so I don’t yet feel the need to take new selfies. Note that I’m also wearing a Rudolph Bow Tie o’ the Day, as well as a Rudolph Necktie o’ the Day. The blue-and-gold paisley Face Mask o’ the Day is a crowning touch to my get-up. It looks lush, if I do say so myself. 🦌
Banned Books o’ the Day: Today, I’m re-reading a couple of once-banned books published in the early 70’s. The first, THE CONTEMPORARY AMERICAN POETS: AMERICAN POETRY SINCE 1940 (edited by Mark Strand), was once the target of banning by a group of really feeble university poetry professors who thought it would poison the minds of poetry readers, because most of the poems in the book don’t rhyme and don’t follow traditional poetic forms. I have a feeling those old goats all passed on long ago—so modern poetry is safe from further judgment by those ol’ relics of the Snooty Rhymes-and-Forms Poetry Club .
The second banned book is THE WORLD SPLIT OPEN: FOUR CENTURIES OF WOMEN POETS IN ENGLAND AND AMERICA, 1552-1950 (edited by Louise Bernikow). And what was the reason for trying to ban this collection? Some goober male wanna-be poet was offended that there were no male poets represented in the book. Hello! The title tells you way, way, way up front that the book’s purpose is to be a collection of poetry written by women. Oy, vey! I cannot make up this asinine reasoning.
Oddly enough, I bought both of these banned books at Deseret Book in the University Mall, in Orem, around 1978. At that time, that particular Deseret Book store’s poetry section—as far as I can recall—had only these two poetry anthologies; every Rod McKuen book known to the Library of Congress; a Carol Lynn Pearson book or two (but not her books with the poems about life sometimes being a messy business); and one very dusty copy of a book of Elizabeth Barrett Browning poems—in which Browning counts the ways. That was it—out of all the poetry written since recorded time, that was the entirety of Deseret Book’s poetry section back then. So I bought these two purportedly scandalous anthologies, and the Rod McKuen and Carol Lynn Pearson books. I already had Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s poetry tucked away at home, in my bedroom library. In those days, I bought whatever poetry I could find, wherever I could find it. I guess it’s kinda like what I still do, eh?
Today’s Bow Tie o’ the Day offering was sent to me by my cousin, Judy A. Humphries. She saw it, and—for some wild and unknown reason—she thought of me. I’m so glad she did. I’m sure y’all are, too. 🤣 🥓
Yup, it’s time once again for me to display the annual Balls ‘n’ Ho’s neckties and bow ties photo. It’s become a Christmas tradition for TIE O’ THE DAY. These photos don’t show all of my Balls ‘n’ Ho’s neckwear, but this is a bigly chunk of it. You can see I enlisted 2 of my Chuck Brown Christmas trees to aid me with the theme. Just as the Balls ‘n’ Ho’s post is a tradition, it is also a tradition for me to make few/zero comments about the theme, and to let you know you are free to make your own jokes about the display, among your own people. (Just don’t make ’em hateful.) Hey, a wee bit o’ irreverence is good for dealing with the inherent stresses of the holiday season. I promise. ☃️
Banned Books o’ Today: I am re-reading Harriet Beecher Stowe’s UNCLE TOM’S CABIN, and Richard Wright’s NATIVE SON. (Are you beginning to recognize a theme here, about what kind of books get banned?)
I got bored with figuring out the nonsensical sets of instructions for the bookcase and the end table I needed to put together, so I simply scheduled a visit from a tasker on TaskRabbit. Someone named Leah showed up Sunday afternoon, and in less than an hour, Leah had assembled both pieces of furniture—while Suzanne and I sat on our butts and streamed the latest episode of Dateline. That’s Leah in the background of the photo, assembling my end table on the kitchen island. Notice I didn’t Christmas-up my Bow Tie o’ the Day or any of my other attire for her visit. I have found it is best to not weird-out visitors at our house on their first visit. If Leah comes back to task for us in the future, I will surely pull out all the clash fashion stops. I will dress as myself.
Sunday marked 15 years since my Dad’s death. I woke up thinking of Dad hunting coyotes every morning before showing up at the counter at Top’s Cafe for his morning cup o’ coffee. I quickly made a playlist of songs Dad liked and sent it to my siblings. The playlist was full of only country music, of course.
On a less serious side, Saturday I watched a vet show on Animal Planet. A pig was being treated for something-or-other. It was kinda cute, in a muddy-fat-pig sort of way, but I was dismayed that the poor critter had a forgettable name—which I have forgotten. But it got me to pondering about what name I would come up with as a more interesting name for a pig. I went right to Hamilton or Hamlet. Or Piggy Lee. But I also like Sir Francis Bacon for a pig name. Or maybe I’d go simple and just name my pig Kevin, as in Kevin Bacon.