As you can probably imagine, whatever home I have lived in has automatically become its own skiwampus universe. Normal occurrences rarely happen within my four walls. I am the twist, the tilt, the skew. Where I go, things are not-quite-normal. I can’t fully explain the reason this happens, but as the cliche says, “It is what it is.” Or, as Popeye says, “I am what I am.” You might have The Elf on the Shelf in your house, for example, but in this house, we have the The Elf on a Bow Tie. Today, we have The Elf on a Bow Tie in a Toaster. It has watched me all day, and I have tried to behave as nicely as I possibly can. I’ve been hankering for some cinnamon toast, however, and I don’t dare ask The Elf on a Bow Tie in a Toaster to find a new vantage point from which to spy on my naughty/nice behavior. I hope it moves soon. I guess I’ll make cinnamon toast tomorrow.
I’ve been teaching Hanukkah Bow Ties o’ the Day the proper Hanukkah greetings. “Hanukkah sameach!” means Happy Hanukkah! Personally, I am fond of the greeting, “Chag urim sameach!” which means Happy Festival of Lights! Hanukkah does not end until December 18th this year, so I’m sure I’ll mention a thing or two about it this week. 🕎🔯
Rudolph Tie and Bow Tie o’ the Day are pleased to present the body thong an anonymous gift-giver sent me last year. Y’all are so good to me, and you know me so well. I’ve got to go to the deli this morning, and I’m so hoping I forget to take off the red-nosed thong before I go. It would be wrong of me to wear it to the grocery store intentionally. That’s over-the-top. But to “accidentally” give my fellow shoppers a show…that’s not inappropriate at all. I am free entertainment at Dick’s Market. Suzanne says I should sell tickets. 🤡 🎡 🎄 🦌
I rarely heard my dad use profanity around the family. The swear-y word I recall hearing him say on occasion was “balls.” It always made me laugh. I’ve never heard anyone else use it as a “swear.” These 9 Ties and 4 Bow Ties o’ the Day are for Dad. I’m missing him extra bunches today for some reason, and so I’m wearing my striped overalls—as was daily his custom.
There is a Christmas story that lives in my family lore, which I have heard many times, from many of the actual participants. I have never heard the story told the same way twice, by anyone who was present when it came to pass. I had not yet been born when the event occurred, so I am only figuring as to the “truth” of what happened. I have listened to all the versions of the story, and this is what I have settled on. The gist is true. Some details may or may not be. But this is how the story sits in my as-told-to mind.
Mom wanted a flocked Christmas tree one year, probably sometime in the late-50’s. Dad invoked his belief in the principle of “happy wife, happy life”—and swiftly brought home, not just a Christmas tree, but some flock-goo and a hand-pump flocking gadget. With the bare tree on the sidewalk, just off the front porch, Dad began to spray flock onto its branches.
Mom watched. The kids watched. I’m sure Lyman’s peered out their windows from across the street to watch. Let me just say this: This was back before any real tree-flocking technology had been perfected to even the teensiest degree. The gooey flock kept getting gummed up in the pump. As Dad pumped the gadget, the flocking spit at the tree in streaks and glops and splotches. This was not the pretty tree Mom or Dad had envisioned.
Dad’s patience with the project was thinning. And even as Mom could see it unfolding, she was powerless to stop the inevitable. The frigid air on the entire street was getting prickly, as Dad became—how shall I say it—”vocal” about the clogged flocking gadget. At some point, Momo even emerged from her house next door to ours, to investigate the ensuing holiday hullabaloo in our front yard. As the anticipating crowd grew, so did Dad’s irritability. Dad said some bigly bad words as he tried to complete his flocking mission. I am fairly certain, based on the many retellings of the story, the bigly bad f-word finally flew out of Dad’s mouth at some point. And I don’t mean the word “flock.” I heard that Momo scurried back to her house to find Popo. Mom made sure my siblings made a bee-line into our house.
I am sure Mom and Dad had a brief, tense two-person family meeting out there in the cold, after which Dad likely went coyote hunting for a couple of hours to re-set his blood pressure, and to think of how to make proper apologies to his mother—and to mine.
How did this story end? I have heard that my dad finally managed to passably complete the flocking o’ the tree, and all was made right with the world. (I highly doubt that version.) I have also heard that my parents used the tree in its as-was imperfection. (I don’t think that is believable either.) In the most Ron-and-Helen-Wright-esque version of the story I can imagine, after Dad took off in his truck, Mom dragged the half-flocked pine behind the house and set it on fire—and later, Dad showed up with a freshly cut, naked, better-than-the-first-one X-mas tree. Now, that’s the kind of home I was born into, give or take a fact or two—and I’m proud of it.
I’m sure Skitter has learned it from me. She likes to mix her holidays into a Mulligan Stew of celebration. Here she is, wearing her McDonald’s French fries Halloween costume and a Christmas tree Tie o’ the Day. You might have noticed that many of Skitter’s X-mas ties have been made with their print patterns upside down. I suppose that is the reason I was able to procure her a bulk batch of thirty or so doggie neckties for the enormous cost of $9.95 on amazon.
In the second photo, you can see Skitter later fell asleep on her bed on the couch last night, surrounded by two of her blankets and covered in 9 of my jolly Bow Ties o’ the Evening. I guess, sometimes bow ties feel warmer than fleece blankets. At least, according to Skitter.
Here are two of my Chuck Brown X-mas trees, including the tiniest. Stay tuned to see the third Chuck Brown tree in this afternoon’s post. If you’ve been a longtime reader, you probably know what’s coming.
I was thinking about how Santa spends his downtime. Of course, I went to the Tie Room to do research. Bow Tie o’ the Day tells me Santa likes to ice skate. The six Ties o’ the Day give evidence that Santa enjoys playing football with his reindeer, golfing in his sleigh, snow skiing, and snowboarding. But when Santa’s done playing, he checks Facebook to find how many friend requests he’s got—WHOA! That’s when he knows it’s time to get himself and his reindeer into tip-top shape for their bigly night. Sounds about right, to me.
I don’t know if the dude on my ugly sweater is supposed to be Santa, an elf, or a gnome. It looks most like a gnome to me. It’s probably a gnome-elf. Gnomes celebrate Christmas too, I’m sure. Ugly sweaters Bow Tie o’ the Day pairs nicely with ugly sweaters Tie o’ the Day. This is not the ugliest Christmas sweater I’ve ever owned, but I readily admit it ain’t purty. I think I’m dressed perfectly for putting together an ugly sweaters puzzle with Suzanne. Puzzling has been the highlight of this under-adventurous pandemic weekend. Always dress the part, I say, even if there’s not a crowd there to see how garishly cool you look.🎄
This post is sponsored by the colors red and green, and by the word “oh.” I wore this holiday Face Mask o’ the Day a few days ago, and I counted it in my Holiday Face Mask Tally. I decided I could count it as a different mask if I wore it upside-down—making the “HO”‘s into “OH”‘s. And who among us doesn’t say, “OH, OH, OH” here, there, and everywhere throughout the Christmas season? I say “OH” a lot during the jolly season—especially when I see nighttime light displays of exceptional beauty and/or masterful gaudiness.
I’m wearing my banned book Face Mask o’ the Day, and Bow Tie o’ the Day is an homage to A CHRISTMAS STORY—with its bb guns and “You’ll shoot your eye out!” targets. I chose Bow Tie so it would resonate with the reindeer on our four Ties o’ the Day. You know, we do live in the Kingdom o’ Many Deer Hunts here in Utah. My sincere tip to Santa’s reindeer is for them to visit Temple Square to see the Christmas lights at their own peril.
A bigly holiday tie trend, according to these particular ties, seems to be fabric print designs of antler-decorated reindeer. Three of these ties show strings of Christmas lights as the proper primary antler decor. The fourth shows the deer’s antlers be-decked in Christmas tree balls. That reminds me—I haven’t yet written my annual X-mas BALLS post. As always, I will try very hard to keep it clean.
