Mom is as fragile as she is tough. She’s needed a little extra care the past few days, so she’s been getting some rest at the hospital, next door from Millard Care and Rehab. We kids have all been doing our best to bother her in small doses by spending time with her there, which is just as she seems to like it. She got shrimp with her salad at lunch on this day, and you’d have thought it was Christmas at Rockefeller Center. That’s another bigly lesson Mom has consistently taught us: it doesn’t take much to be happy—if you wanna be happy.
BTW For this visit with Mom, I wore some of my animal-print accessories: pink Bow Tie o’ the Day, brown Sloggers, and orange print face mask (not shown), so Mom would be inspired to reach down into her deep animal instincts to get well and get back to her digs at the care center soon. I threw on my Bernie socks just cuz he’s old and still thriving. Bernie’s always good for a laugh.
[This morning, I stored the Wintry Cape away until next year’s chilly season returns. When I sat down to write a post, this COVID-19 post showed up as a Facebook memory. Hey, I can take a hint from the cosmos: y’all are meant to see this post again.]
While we’re on the subject of wearing masks to help protect ourselves and others from COVID-19…
Suzanne makes me fantastic capes, and I’m discovering that they are not just beautastical to gaze at. My glitter-fied Wintry Cape—and all my other Suzanne-made capes—can perform a public service, by acting as a protective mask for my face and most of my body. Wood Bow Tie o’ the Day’s magnetized hardware sufficiently hangs on for the ride. I’m all set. Until my next post.
Bow Ties o’ the Day have been my companions all afternoon. I and my neighbors have enjoyed the sparkles, stripes, and plaids. I’ve been working outside a wee bit, prepping for springtime temperatures I hope are not too far off. I can’t wait to sit on the deck or grill on the patio. I’ve made sure we are already stocked up on a summer’s worth of insect repellent and citronella candles. Ah, the great and insect-y outdoors!
The only green potations I will be drinking tonight are what will be in the green bottles and cans of Heineken 0.0, an 100% alcohol-free beverage, which I call my “not-beer.” The drink tastes like you would imagine the abstract idea of beer might taste. I like it, and I can be completely clean and sober no matter how much I consume. Hey, I’m glad I don’t drink alcohol anymore, but I will never deny that one of the highlights of my life is when I went to Ireland 25 years ago and taste-tested every different beer I came across—from pub to shining pub. I still remember that a beer called Smithwick’s was my overall fave-rave. My belly and my taste buds were in utter high Heaven for those roamin’ ‘n’ ramblin’ two weeks. I do not apologize for, or regret, my near-scientifically extensive Ireland drinking project. But I am also proud it’s behind me. Reminiscing about any experience can sometimes be every bit as richly textured, or more so, as living through it in the first place—because now when you look back at what you did, you can see it through your older, and more self-compassionate eyes. Like anyone who has been young, I might have been a fool back then, but at least I can confidently say I’m a much smarter, more empathetic, and well-rounded fool now that I am old. 😉
I gave myself a pre-birthday present last night. I dragged Suzanne to a concert at the Eccles Theater in SLC. She knew next to nothing about the band we went to see: Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit. Shawn Colvin opened for them, which was great because she played solo—just Shawn and her voice and her guitar. She somehow made her guitar sound like an entire band. Yup, she plays that well. She is one of my all-time fave songwriters and has been for the last 30 years. Jason Isbell, on the other hand, is a recent discovery of mine. He plays a wild guitar, but I am most enamored of his songwriting skills. I have wide and eclectic taste in music, but there is one thing the artists I love to listen to have in common. They are generally superior songwriters. As a working poet, that makes complete sense to me. Words are music, too.
I often wear my wood guitar Bow Tie o’ the Day when I’m headed to a concert, and last night was not an exception. Excuse my uncouth Mask o’ the Evening, but my inner mode is sarcastic. I also wore my cassette tape “GOOD VIBES” lapel pin to the event.
All the usual concert types were there. You know, the group of women who didn’t open their mouths before the show, but as soon as the concert started, they immediately began talking too loudly—especially during the softer tunes. And, of course, there was the couple who just had to stand up and dance right in front of us, while holding their beers—which sloshed around and sprinkled the rest of us as they danced, kissed, and played air guitar. Remember lighters at concerts? Well, that was me last night: I wore my Bic lighter Cufflinks o’ the Evening in homage to concerts-back-in-the-olden-days.
We had a swell night out, despite the fact that Suzanne does not particularly like twang in her music. She told me more than once that she enjoyed the concert. And I almost believe her.
BTW I will be presenting some bigly news regarding TIE O’ THE DAY in tomorrow’s A.M. post. Don’t miss it, y’all.
Maybe you missed the fact, but please know that I have a soul-deep attachment to paisley. This photo is evidence of my truth. The paisley Tie o’ the Day, Shirt o’ the Day, Face Mask o’ the Day, and Hat o’ the Day are my kind o’ snazzy. For the most part, I have ceased wearing face masks. However, I think this mask adds to the point I’m making in this post: it’s all about the paisley. Do not be askeered, however. I have no intention of posting pix of my paisley Underwear o’ the Day. I do have some scruples, you know.😜
FYI Stay tuned for this afternoon’s post about how I’m handling a treat-free Lent. Hint: So far, it hasn’t been pretty.
I figured I should acknowledge Mardi Gras, if only because I’ve been busy today thinking about what I should give up for Lent tomorrow. What I really want to give up for 40 days is my sobriety, but that would sort of defeat the purpose. Actually, it would defeat a bunch of purposes. Nah, I will be giving up something else for 40 days. I’m not sure what it will be. I’m thinking giving up sweets would be a sacrifice for me, but my birthday is next week and I can’t justify breaking Suzanne’s heart by not eating whatever birthday dessert she will want to feed me. Still, I’d kind of like to test my mettle and see if I could go without sweets for 40 days.
I know it would be breaking the rules of Lent, but maybe I could go sweetless on 39 of Lent’s 40 days, and then go without sweets one extra day after Lent officially ends. Of course, that means I would have to put an asterisk by my accomplishment if I eat sweets on my birthday, for cheating just a smidgen smack dab in the middle of Lent. It would be as if I were a Major League Baseball steroid user in the 90’s. I’d have an asterisk by my stats. Asterisk, asterisk, asterisk. ✳️
I seem to have been feeling a lumberjack-y vibe when I put on my clothes today. Tie o’ the Day is replete with split wood ready for stacking, on top of my red-and-gray plaid shirt. The paisley mask is just because I try to rock some paisley no matter what I wear, as y’all well know. I can’t explain the reason for wearing the cow-spots flat cap, except to say it seemed like a silly way to finish the look. Perhaps the hat is just my way of saying “howdy” to my friend, Myrt, who is a faithful TIE O’ THE DAY reader and is always up for any cow-themed attire I have to show off. Consider yourself “howdy-“ed, Myrt. 🐄 Moo!
I took my hearts Face Mask o’ the Day and my hearts-and-arrows Tie o’ the Day to my appointment with the dermatologist this afternoon. My doc relayed to me the final results of my biopsies, and now the rash on my torso is diagnosed. For those of you who want me to violate my own HIPAA rules, here’s the name of what I have: disseminated granuloma annulare. According to my dermatologist, it is not something she usually sees. It is not common, nor is it rare. She last saw it on someone over 5 years ago. It’s just rare enough that it can be difficult to diagnose without all the biopsies and x-rays I just had.
The good news is that disseminated granuloma annulare is a relatively harmless condition, although my doc says I need to be vigilant about having mammograms and “lady parts” exams more frequently than is generally recommended for a chick of my age. But here’s the bigly annoying thing: there is no cure to make my rash go away. It will go away on its own—just as it came to me—whenever it dang well wants to. If it decides to go, it can also decide to come back—repeating the process over and over. Or it might disappear tomorrow—never to recur again. Or it might decide to never leave my body at all. So I finally know what the malady is, but there’s nothing anyone can do to eliminate it. My rash has a mind of its own. Fortunately for me, it does not hurt or itch. It simply covers part of my belly and back in patches of red bumps. All in all, I remain grateful my rash is neither dangerous nor hideous. I’m also happy to report that the rash is not contagious. As long as the rash remains innocuous, I guess it’s okay if it hangs around here with me and the neckwear if it really has nowhere else to go. The more the merrier, I always say.
Personally, I am not a fan of being matchy with my attire, as y’all well know by now. However, I can whip up an entire outfit in accordance with a set theme, if I so desire. With creating a singular, comprehensive theme in mind, one might ask the following question: “Exactly what is the appropriate fashion move to make when one’s newest golf pants are peacock-y?” TIE O’ THE DAY is pleased to impart a spectacle-worthy answer: one must go with the bigly peacock theme at least once in one’s life. One must surely create one day’s worth of all-out peacock-y attire to be gawked at. To do this, one must don one’s peacock-y Bow Tie o’ the Day, one’s peacock-y Face Mask o’ the Day, and one’s peacock-y Suspenders o’ the Day—in addition to one’s peacock-y Golf Pants o’ the Day. If one follows my advice, one will be both peacock-y and forever unforgettable. Indeed, one will become a legend—if only in one’s own mind. 🤣
The chill of recent February days—especially in the mornings—has got me resorting to bigly desperate measures. Oddly, even though I have barely a skiff of head fur, my noggin has stayed relatively warm this winter. My ears, however, have felt frosty as all get-out—especially my Spock ear. To protect my ears from what feels like frost-bite, I have resorted to wearing a pair of oversized earmuffs, both outdoors and indoors. It works. A side effect of wearing this ear-y fashion accessory is that I am deafer than usual. No one seems to mind I can hear nary a thing as I move through the community. I think it’s because Bow Tie o’ the Day casts a pleasant aura around me even though I have no idea what’s going on wherever I go. Being purposefully oblivious to what’s happening around me has been a nice temporary treat. I highly recommend knowing nothing—except what’s going on inside your own brain—as an every-once-in-a-while way to be. Wearing earbuds underneath your earmuffs while your playlist tunes blare in your ears for you only is a blissful bonus. You can always pay attention to everybody else and their problems tomorrow.
