Witty & Wise Ties, Trivia & Lies
I got dressed, donned my golf-themed Face Mask o’ the Day and my boggy green Bow Tie o’ the Day, took this selfie, then immediately changed back into a clean pair of pajamas. Yup, that’s it. Since I gave up drinking green beer, that’s pretty much how I celebrate St. Paddy’s Day. 🍀😜
So yesterday morning, before Skitter and I got in the car to make our pilgrimage to Millard Care And Rehab to visit Mom, Suzanne told me she liked my shirt but she said it kinda hurt her eyes, too. I considered changing into a less busy shirt, because I didn’t want my attire to cause injury to Mom’s old, old eyes. Ultimately, I didn’t change it, and one of the first things Mom said to me when she saw me was, “I like your shirt.” I told her what Suzanne had said about it earlier, and Mom said, “Well, if it bothers my eyes to look at your shirt, I’ll just quit looking at it.” Mom is a very sensible gal.
As Skitter and I made our way through the halls of MCR to get to Mom’s room, the staff was quick to welcome us back to the facility. And I was quick to give them our family’s thanks for their quality care of Mom during the pandemic. They kept her safe and engaged, and we never doubted they would. Indeed, when I walked into Mom’s room, she was alert and chatty. When I first hugged her, she seemed smaller and more fragile than when I hugged her last. It was like hugging a bird—but I’m sure that was mostly because it had been so long between hugs.
The window in Mom’s room gives her a clear view of people going into, or out of, the care center. She can also see the ambulance pull up to the ER at the hospital across the way. She especially enjoys watching the medical helicopter come and go. Mom and I sat on Mom’s bed talking and watching the world doing its thing outside her window. Mom was captivated by the construction guys working on the hospital roof. We laughed as they took turns coming down the ladder to use the port-a-potty in the parking lot. For a moment, it felt like she and I were sitting on The Porch again—Mom holding court and scattering her spunkiness and opinions everywhere within ear-reach.
As an added bonus for Mom yesterday, her friends, Dot and Roberta, drove past her window, as if on cue, and I managed to flag them down. They were gracious enough to stop and come over to Mom’s window so she could see them up-close. The three of them yelled greetings to each other through the window glass. (Oh, and Mom made me lift Skitter up to the window, so she could introduce The Skit to her good friends.) Dot and Roberta were cackling when they left, and so were we. Mom beamed at her almost-back-to-normal day as a resident of MCR. She can’t wait to go on MCR drives again, and she mentioned wanting to get back to playing BINGO with the other residents, too. I reminded her she will probably have to be patient a little longer, and she reminded me how much neither of us Helen’s likes to be patient.
My fave-rave moment of yesterday was a classic, comedic Mom moment. I nursed my bottle of Diet Coke and Mom had Pepsi in her cup as she and I chatted. Yup, we were drinkin’ together again. At some point, Skitter—who sat right up against Mom’s leg throughout the entirety of our visit—started sniffing at Mom’s cup. Quick-witted as ever, Mom feigned horror and said, “Skitter! You don’t want to drink that! That’ll get you drunk!” It caught me by surprise, and I admit I snort-laughed at Mom and the idea that she would spike anyone’s drink—let alone her own. I asked her what the Hell-en she spiked her Pepsi with, and where did she hide it, because I wanted some too. We kidded back and forth about that for a while, and at some point I said she should tell me where her booze was so we could get Skitter drunk, and put it on YouTube and get rich. I told her she was being stingy, and that I didn’t know how she was raised, but that my mother sure as Hell-en raised me to always share my liquor with the people I love.
What a bigly splendid day it was, in Mom’s little room! I can’t wait for our next visit.
How do I know I need a trim? Because only two weeks after I got them shaved, my head hairs are already long enough to hold my shamrock hair clips. Green Bow Tie o’ the Day is kinda grass-like in its fabric design. It does remind me of hilly fields in Ireland. And I’ll tell you a secret: The last item on my Bucket List is to die on one of the Aran Islands in western Ireland. If I have to die—and we all do—that’s the place I wanna be when I do it. Well, today that’s where I want to die, anyway. The place designated in the last item on my Bucket List changes often.
Folks, I am so stoked to be able to visit Mom in her room at Millard Care and Rehab tomorrow. I have not been able to concentrate on much else, since I got the news this morning that visitors are again allowed to hang with the residents. Things are not back to normal-normal. For example, visitors are allowed to visit their person only in their person’s room. That’s fine by me. All I need is a hug from my mother, and she probably needs one from me after a year. I know for a fact that she needs a hug from Skitter. Skitter will jump up on Mom’s bed, curling up against Mom’s leg to nap just like she belongs there. Mom will then coo at Skitter, and pet her the entire time we’re visiting. Helen Sr. will be so overjoyed to see Skitter that I’ll be lucky to steal a few hugs from the grand old broad.
Seriously, although I turned 57 last week, this afternoon I feel more like just the 7. The thought of seeing Mom in person—and being able to touch her—has got me feeling like a kid on Christmas Eve. I won’t sleep a wink tonight.
Wood Bow Tie o’ the Day and I are pleased to introduce you to my latest Face Mask o’ the Day, which is covered in models of the specific coronavirus which creates COVID-19. Yup, because I acquired this mask, I can truthfully say I recently got COVID-19—kinda, sorta. Trust me—I’m very well aware that I’m having a much better experience dealing with my fabric virus than those who have gotten the real virus. I get through the stresses and inconveniences of the pandemic by utilizing the same tools I use to get through any predicament: factual information and humor. Those two tools will work for anyone, I promise.
It’s just another TIE O’ THE DAY day in the neighborhood. Personally, I can’t wait to see what trouble I can get into. Whatever it is, I’m dressed to create it.👑🕶✏️
I got my first COVID-19 shot this morning. I had planned to take Skitter with me to keep me company in the car while I endured a reputed long wait in line to receive the first of my two vaccinations. However, as I was gathering my books and music to leave for my appointment, I asked, “Skitter, do you wanna go on an errand with me?” She barely raised an eyelid. She was clearly content to remain in her sleeping-in mode. How could I possibly drag her out of her cozy slumber? So I took this photo of her ignoring me, and I headed out the front door.
I am here to tell you that the Davis County Health Department has really got their “sh*t” together—I mean their “shot.” Following the new vaccination guidelines, I was able to get my shot about a month before they originally anticipated folks in my age-group would even be able to sign up. I emailed them yesterday, and 5 minutes later, I had an appointment for today. I arrived for my appointment about 10 minutes before my scheduled time. I followed the car directly ahead of me through the twisty, busy parking lot, all the way into a stall inside the Legacy Center building. There, I turned off my car and sat for a total of 4 minutes, while I answered a few questions, got a few warnings about possible obscure side effects, and ultimately got stabbed with my shot. I then started my car again, cranked up the Amanda Shires cd I was listening to, and drove out of the building. Before I knew it, I was done with Part 1 of my entire pandemic vaccination adventure—a couple of minutes before my actual scheduled appointment time.
The front-line folks running the vaccination clinic were efficient, willing to answer questions, and even appreciative of my chatty humor. One guy—the nurse who shot my arm—liked my wood Bow Tie o’ the Day so much that I tried to give it to him. He told me that in a different context, he would have gladly received Bow Tie as the simple gift of appreciation I meant it to be, but since he was there as a professional nurse, he could not accept it. I completely understood. Kudos to people with principles, who aren’t shy about living by them.
BTW Since I have a history of instances of severe allergic reactions to a couple of medications and bee stings (requiring me to carry an EpiPen), my shot nurse requested that I wait in my car in the Legacy Center parking lot for at least 30 minutes before I headed home, just in case I were to have an adverse reaction to the vaccine. He suggested I park as near to the ambulance in the parking lot as I could—just in case. In my experience, I have found that no matter what the job is, those people who think of the “just in case” scenarios for others end up becoming the best at whatever they do.
According to my Face Mask o’ the Day, things seem to be going along swimmingly here today.
We have assembled a closet full of puzzles during this pandemic year. This puzzle is the pandemic-est of them all. The face masks were deceptively difficult to put together correctly.
My dad had this same haircut for all the years I knew him, and he always had a red or blue hanky in the back pocket of his striped bib overalls. He did not, however, make a point of wearing groovy bow ties. His usual idea of neckwear was wearing a wood coyote call around his neck. I miss the old guy.
It looks like Spring outside today, but the temperature tells the truth: It’s just above freezing on this deceptively bright and blue-sky morning. Still, the hint at the changing o’ the seasons prompted my choice of neckwear and face wear. Face Mask o’ the Day is full of colorful ladybugs, and wood Bow Tie o’ the Day is a genteel butterfly.