Bow Tie o’ the Day found the toilet paper. Must. Have. These. Socks. For. The. Pandemic!
Got TP?
And I Alone Am Escaped To Tell Thee
Buckin’ bronco Tie o’ the Day and I managed to dodge the army of quarantined zombie bow ties, to slip undetected into the ladies’ reading room. I knew the hooligans would find me eventually. They always do. Every parent with a house full of children or bow ties knows this feeling: “I just need five minutes to myself. Please—just five uninterrupted minutes. I will sell my soul to the first power which will grant me five quiet minutes.”
But we parents also know we never get the whole five minutes. No, we get about thirty seconds before the first knock at the bathroom door, which is followed by childish attempts to turn the doorknob long after it’s clear the door is locked. We begin to grumble in our heads. We grumble quietly out loud. We wonder who had all these kids. We wonder why they can’t survive for such a short amount of time without us. We wonder a lot of stuff. Briefly, we wonder.
And then we get the teeny fingers under the door—clawing in our direction. That’s the nail in the coffin of our solitude. Our defeat is inevitable. We know there’s no going back now. We must surrender our sanity to the herd. We put down our unread books; we gird up our frazzled loins; and we head back into the loud chaos of those small beasts who love us as much as we love them.
And The Housework Doesn’t Get Done
So far, the quarantined neckties, ascots, cravats, and bolos have minded their tie business. The home-stuck bow ties, however, have taken over the house. This afternoon, I went to throw in a load of laundry, and I discovered four Bow Ties o’ the Day had already commandeered the washing machine. The Bow Ties tell me it’s their pretend lake. They say they want a ski boat. Oh, the swimming and diving I’ve seen the little bows doing! They are skinny-dipping as they water-frolic, as well! I can’t blame them. I did the exact same things when I was a kid— just not in anybody’s washing machine.
They’re On The Move
It’s the Zombie Bow Ties o’ the Apocalypse! I turn to the west, and there they are. I turn to the east, and there they are. It matters not if I go upstairs or downstairs—they’re following me. Everywhere. Their pointy little bow tie schools are closed for the duration of the pandemic, and all they have now is yours truly, 24/7. The dapper critters do not even allow me a moment of privacy. I fear my brain is becoming altered by the constant mass presence of the Zombie Bow Ties o’ the Apocalypse. I fear I am becoming one of them. 😱
Cabin Fever Strikes The Neckwear
Boy, was I surprised to see this sight when I opened the fridge to get a soda this morning. Bow Ties o’ the Day are clearly going stir crazy in the midst of this self-imposed quarantine. The bow ties haven’t been out of the house for far too long. Now, they’ve turned to housebound shenanigans to amuse themselves, and their jokes are always on me. I think it’s time I leash the necky critters and take them for a walk. I’ll make sure each one maintains the recommended 6 feet of “social distancing” if we run into any of the neighbors while we’re out.
Stocking Up
I wore my hot dog/hamburger/pizza/fries Bow Tie o’ the Day to the grocery store. I didn’t need anything in particular, but I decided to join the neighborhood lemmings and buy a stockpile of whatever was left on the shelves. I was surprised to find shelves full of some of my favorite foods, like ice cream, potato chips, chocolate bars, CHEWY SPREE, and licorice. Junk food is not very nutritious, but it’ll do the job of keeping you alive during an emergency. During a pandemic, nobody’s going to be slamming you for your food choices. Nobody’s gonna be watching anybody’s calorie intake. Heck no! We’ve all got more important things on our minds, so a pandemic is the perfect time to eat whatever you want.
I generally tend to choose any and all foods from the Bow Tie Food Group. These foods are clearly marked with bow ties on the labels. The PRINGLES guy is wearing a bow tie, so I must have a can or dozen of that. The blackberry BUBLY water is likewise bow tie-marked. I must, therefore, fill my cart with a case of said blackberry BUBLY water. I already have bow tie pasta in the pantry, so it doesn’t bother me that the pasta shelves are already empty at Dick’s Market.
I’m Mature-er Than I Once Was
Well, I admit I’m probably not much more mature than I was. But I am another year older, as of last week. I declare my thanks for all the birthday regards which came my way from y’all. I try to never lose sight of all the kind people who have crossed my path throughout my life. And I mean you, of course, among others. By blessing, by luck, and by accident, I have always found good folks to know. I’ve encountered some mean beings here and there, but I have always tried to keep them at bay from me and the stellar humans I claim as my family and friends. If you believe in kindness and laughter, you are not just a name to me. You are my true clan.
In these photos, I present Bow Tie o’ My Birthday Dinner. Suzanne treated me to dinner in SLC at TABLE X, where our waiter scrounged up a candle for my birthday tiramisu after he heard it was my bday. Also, I liked the light fixture in the restaurant’s bathroom, so here it is for you to see. And finally, note Suzanne’s faces when she’s paying the check at the end of the evening. It looks like it was the teensiest bit painful for her and her debit card. But I’m worth it, she says. After all these years, I’ve still got her completely fooled.
Earthquake Damage
Bow Tie o’ the Day had gone missing over the holidays. It took literally yesterday’s earthquake to find it. The only earthquake damage I could locate in the house was this rubble o’ books that fell from a bookshelf in the loft. And what was at the bottom of the rubble when I tidied up? My Christmas plaid slimline Bow Tie, which I’ve been looking for since the holiday season ended. I must have taken it off in the loft and set it down atop the stack of books, which finally crumbled yesterday in the quake. Finding Bow Tie was like getting the Crackerjack prize. And I mean the good Crackerjack prizes of yesteryear, not the “safe” paper things they give us now. Excuse my opinion, but you know darn well a Crackerjack or cereal prize is good only if you can choke on it, get it stuck up your nose, or cut yourself with it. A “safe” prize is just boring.😉
Anyhoo… We survived yesterday’s earthquake, with all but these bookshelf contents in tact. When the quake happened, I had been pondering the idea of getting out of bed. Suddenly, my grogginess was interrupted by what sounded and felt like the garbage truck was plowing right through the house. That was a very long 8-10 seconds, which felt like 8-10 minutes. I was now wide awake. Suzanne was fine. I was fine.
I wanted to head straight downstairs to survey any possible damage to the house, but first I had to release Skitter from her sleep crate at the foot of the bed. I was hoping the earthquake hadn’t already scared the morning pee out of the skittish Skitter, cuz I was not in the mood to wash her bedding and scrub her crate. So I opened her little crate door, and…. no Skitter ran out. Huh? Her crate doesn’t have multiple rooms. She can’t be hiding in its basement or attic or secret passageway. Where is the Skit? I knelt down to peer inside.
Skitter was in a crate corner. She had wound herself into a ball o’ fear so tight that she looked like a rolled-up hedgehog. I could have served her tightly curled body like a volleyball. Gradually, through the day, Skitter loosened herself. She would start to stretch out and look more like herself, then an aftershock would come along and undo some of her progress. By the end of the day Skitter had gotten a bit used to the earth’s tremors, and she was almost back to her abnormal normal. This morning, she seems to have forgotten all about the quake clamor. I admire the critter.
Sorry For The Labor I Caused, Mom
I think this photograph of me and Mom conked out in Dad’s chair ranks as my favorite Helen & Helen snapshot ever. Dad must have liked the scene too, to go to the trouble to photograph it—back in the day when you couldn’t simply snap a photo with a nearby cell phone. TIE O’ THE DAY likes to post it for y’all to see at least once or twice a year. Posting it today is my birthday present to myself. I post the Bow Tie o’ the Day near-naked toddler-me photo as proof that I prefer to dwell in absolute joy whenever possible, whether I’ve got teeth in my mouth or don’t.
Well, That Was A Quick Year
My bladder woke me up in mid-sleep, at 4:00 AM, for my early morning exercise routine of walking to and from the little girls’ room without stubbing a toe or bumping an elbow. When I crawled back into bed, I watched the clock until 4:10—the exact moment my birth certificate says I was born on this day in 1964. I told myself “Merry Birthday”, closed my eyes, then fell back into a pleasant sleep.
Bow Tie o’ the Day is here to give proof of the power of bow ties—even on photo faces. I “swear” 🤞this is the exact same baby photo. It was taken when I was around 6 months old. Notice how unhappy I look in the photo without Bow Tie. I simply draped Bow Tie on the photo itself, and the mood on my picture face lifted. 😉 It’s sort of my version of THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY.