Category: Jackets

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The Breakfast Of Champions

An ice cream headache is a good reminder to slow down and smell the ice cream.
This is way yummier than a picture can convey.
It is triple-dog-daring me to eat it all NOW.
And so I did.

Bow Tie o’ the Day can vouch for me that I am not generally a quitter. When I took the lid off the 30-ounce tub of White Raspberry Truffle-flavor Fat Boy ice cream, the message written on the blue safety foil tightly covering it implied that if I were to scoop the ice cream into dish after dish over a series of days, before finishing every last bit of it, I would be labeled a quitter. Like I said—I do not quit. I try to be a woman of solid character. I have a somewhat upright reputation to uphold, and my integrity matters to me. In short, I had no choice when I ripped the blue foil from atop the ice cream but to eat it in one sitting, straight out of the container until it was gone. All of it. I am not a lemming or a sheeple, but—like almost every human being I know—I can usually and easily do what I’m challenged to accomplish when it’s something I already wanted to do in the first place. 😉 🍦

Note: The ice cream headache I had when I snapped my photo was simply necessary collateral damage, resulting from my heroic effort to not be a quitter. You’d think a grown woman who is old enough to belong to AARP would know how to avoid the novice move of incurring an ice cream headache—which I, in fact, do know how to avoid when I am in my right mind. I solemnly declare my bigly ice cream headache was earned by accident, but also on principle. Forgive me—I was temporarily overcome by 30 fluid ounces of delectable chill. I’m pleading “ice cream intoxication” as my excuse for the whole gluttonous affair. But just to be sure that’s what caused my gluttony—in the name of scientific experiment—I think I am obligated to do this implied ice cream challenge again. Y’all know how much I will hate it. 🍨 😏

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A Virtual Bit O’ Bow Tie Sunshine

I prefer virtual doctor visits, cuz I can wear my boxers and nobody else has to know.
Our wall decor tells you: I am my bee’s keeper.

When one has a virtual visit with one’s long-time pain doctor, and one is trying to look upbeat when one is—in all actuality—in a great deal of pain and, therefore, in a grumpy mood, but one really likes one’s pain doc and doesn’t want to make one’s pain doc feel like a complete failure in her work with one, and so one wants to disguise to said pain doctor the routinely excruciating pain one will most likely always feel in one’s pancreas and back, one wears a bright, sequin-covered Bow Tie o’ the Day and a bacon-and-eggs Shirt o’ the Day in front of the laptop camera. With that kind of bow tie, no one in the virtual appointment can be sad. 🤡 At least, that’s what I would do: I would pretend. 😑

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Paintin’ The Town

We had a theatrical night on the town last week when we went to see HAMILTON again. Before the show, we ate a luscious dinner at Tin Angel, which is located inside the Eccles Theater building. Suzanne ordered wild salmon, while I got the encrusted braised spare ribs. For dessert, we split a slice of spiced pumpkin roll filled with cream cheese frosting, and covered in caramel and chocolate. Yes, it was yummy.

Y’all might recall that we had first seen HAMILTON a couple of years ago, after which I gave my review in a TIE O’ THE DAY post. My review was simply this: “It was a little too sing-y and dance-y for my taste.” The truth is, that’s my review for almost all musicals. I can appreciate a well-done musical production, but I’m partial to plain old words. I prefer the spoken word on the stage. Having said that, I will admit that I enjoyed HAMILTON tremendously this time around. The first time I saw it, my brain was filled with all the excessive hype about it. This time, I knew what I was in for, and I could simply watch without any expectations. HAMILTON was still too sing-y and dance-y for my taste, but as I sat in my seat and let the show just wash over me, I was enthralled. I had a good time.

Because I am who I am, Suzanne must always have her antenna up for any sign of my misbehavior. The Eccles Theater ushers carried little “please, wear your mask” hand-held signs. If an audience member were to remove their mask during the production, an usher was supposed to quietly walk up to the maskless person and politely wave the sign in front of their face. I wanted so badly to take a photo of it happening to someone, but everyone in the audience was good and kept their masks on. As the night wore on, Suzanne could feel me wanting nothing more than to lower my mask, for the sole purpose of having an usher shove a sign in my face, so I could snap a photo of it happening. I don’t know exactly how she knows when I’m plotting to be bad, but she does. She gave me “the look,” and I immediately abandoned any plans I had for misbehaving with my face mask.

Face Mask o’ the Evening was covered in X-mas holiday mutts. I exercised my right to be thematically appropriate by wearing a jumbo Bow Tie o’ the Day depicting The United States Constitution. It was a spot-on choice for HAMILTON. Oddly, not one person who saw me at the theater mentioned my Constitutional bow tie. Nor did they comment on the funeral potatoes 2002 Olympic pin I wore in my lapel. But do you know what part of my attire I was explicitly complimented on by a number of folks throughout the evening? It was my green Nike golf hat! One woman told me the hat looks good on me and that I wear it well—whatever that means. Yeah, my thirty-year-old, seen-in-post-photos-all-the-time hat got more compliments than my incredibly cool and infrequently worn U.S. Constitution Bow Tie got. And while at HAMILTON, to boot! Weird.

I enjoyed HAMILTON more the second time around.
My lapel pin is a 2002 Olympic pin depicting funeral potatoes.
At Tin Angel, I had the braised short ribs in a pastry, atop mashed potatoes.
Suzanne patiently waits for her wine to show up.
My over-tired Saddle Purse fell asleep before the production had even begun.
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A Bubbly Annual Christmas Party

We spent the bulk of our Sunday up in O-town, attending a bigly-deal holiday party. It was Suzanne’s Champagne Garden Club’s annual Christmas shindig. All the Garden Gals and their better halves were there. My, how the champagne did flow! It flowed mostly with orange juice in mimosas, as far as I could tell. And then the bubbly gave way to waves of wine. I had armed myself with a six-pack of my own Bud Zero not-beer, for the occasion and not one person poked fun at me about it at all. Bud Zero contains zero alcohol and no zing, but it does have its share of party bubbles. 🥂🍹🍷(These are the Garden Gals’ make-you-tipsy drinks.) 🍺

(Here is my lone, sad, virgin Bud Zero.)My stomach muscles are a wee bit strained today from all of the jolly laughing I did at the party. The house was roaring and chortling for the duration of our celebration, as it always does at these get-togethers. I can attest that there was way too much tasty food in the kitchen, which always assures a fine party. Exciting gifts abounded, too. I received a bee drink coaster and a bee kitchen towel AND a dark blue bow tie which conceals its very own bottle opener inside of it. I also got a funky, whisk-looking head massager for use on my bald head. (Thanks, Garden Gals.) HO, HO, HO! I win! 🎁

FYI: The Tie o’ the Day I wore is 1 of only 2 new additions to my holiday neckwear collection so far this season. Despite my expert tie-shopping tricks, it’s been impossible for me to find any other worthy pieces of holiday neckwear I don’t already own. ☹️ 🎄

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I Can’t Decide What To Wear

Yes, I did get my head hairs shaved this morning. It was time for a trim. We’re going out for some artsy entertainment tonight, and I haven’t dressed up in soooo long that I’ve almost forgotten exactly how to select fancy evening attire. I’m debating betwixt a slew o’ jackets. I’m looking through capes and earrings and shoes. I doubt I will wear this ocean-y lighthouse Tie o’ the Day this evening, although I’m enjoying wearing it around the house. I’m thinking I might even go “black tie” for the event, which—for me—usually means a bow tie with at least a subtle hint of black and/or white somewhere on it. It doesn’t actually have to be clearly black or white. I’m fastidious about what I wear, but not too literal about the rules o’ anybody else’s froufrou, high-society fashion. 🎩

FYI I purposely didn’t tell y’all where we’re going tonight, but I’ll definitely let y’all know in a post tomorrow. Sometimes I like to keep you guessing. Practice your patience, please. [That FYI was purely for my sister, BT, who will read this post two minutes after I post it, and then immediately text me to ask where we’re going for the evening. Hold your horses, BT. You can be patient, too. 😘]

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Day #7 With My Madras Shorts

I must confess something: One of the bigly pandemic changes I like is virtual church. I hope that’s a change that’s permanent. I never have to miss a Sunday. I can wear my Church Bow Tie o’ the Sabbath right there on my couch.

When attending church in person, I normally have to do a lot of toning down my attire—in order to not distract worshippers from the services. When I watch the services on my laptop, I don’t have to hold back my clothing choices at all. However, even though nobody’s around to see me watch church, I do believe in gussying up for the virtual event. One must make it special in some way. One must set the mood. Mom always wears earrings to just about any event, so I wear earrings to virtual church—with a cadre of lapel pins, pocket squares, and cufflinks. (Note: I’m wearing my CTR lapel pin here.)

As for my madras shorts, I won’t be wearing them soon. They are fun, but I’m tired of looking at them. I will wash them, fold them, and put them on the very bottom of my shorts stack. I cannot stand to wear the same exact outfit more than once a year, if ever. This last week has been difficult for me, because of that. Nevertheless, I survived, and I am a better woman for it.

BTW Skitter’s wearing her music tie because she likes to howl along with the virtual hymns.

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A Wimpy Coat

Remember the short film about Johnny Lingo and his 8-cow wife? Well, I once owned a coat that became legendary among my friends, and we called it my 12-Beer Coat because I could fill its many pockets with a total of 12 cans of beer. I had the 12-Beer Coat when I lived in Maryland. I’d fill up my coat with brewskis, and a group of us would go off on some beach or mountain adventure for the day, and my 12-Beer Coat provided refreshment for us all. Sometimes we packed the coat more than once per adventure. In my 12-Beer Coat, I could sneak beers anywhere. I’ve heard rumors that we also filled up the 12-Beer Coat coffers before going out to see movies. I do recall that we were once hiking up a mountain in New Hampshire while I was wearing my 12-Beer Coat, and I slipped and almost tumbled off a ledge. I did not slip because I was tipsy. I slipped because I had 12 full beers for the group stuffed into my coat while hiking. Try keeping your balance with 12 beers rolling around on your body. If I had fallen off the mountain and died, it would have been technically correct to say my death was alcohol-related, just because I was the beer mule.

I adore this Levi jacket, but it is wimpy in comparison to my long-gone 12-Beer Coat. I can pack only 8 drink cans in it. Of course, if I bought a bigger size of Levi jacket—with bigger pockets—I could load it with a 12-pack or more of cans of whatever not-beer I drink these days. From the looks of it, I think I can fit a couple of cans inside my hat, too.

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We Haven’t Gone Out To Eat Since My Birthday Last March😱

When I posted about my 2002 Funeral Potatoes Olympic Pin a few days ago, it pierced my heart that since the pandemic came to the planet, I haven’t really had much of a reason to accessory-up and go out on the town—especially for fancy dinner at fancy restaurants. This means that I haven’t had reason to wear my lapel pins and cufflinks as I would normally do for our travel and grand outings, which also means I haven’t been posting photos of said lapel pins and cufflinks. I must remedy that, because my accessories live in the Tie Room with the neckwear, and they deserve their place in the spotlight, too.

Grapes Bow Tie o’ the Day sits bigly below my Mormon grapes Cufflinks o’ the Day, which I’m holding between my lips. But the bilgiest deal here is my Mormon grapes Lapel Pin o’ the Day, which I’m actually wearing more as a pocket accessory in this selfie. Isn’t it the coolest lapel pin ever known to mankind? I bought it on a trip with Suzanne to a Salt Lake City Deseret Industries store, in 1985. I think you can see why I have left the piece of jewelry attached to its D.I. sophisticated packaging ever since I got it. What is not visible here is the price tag stuck to the packaging. It cost a whole 50 cents. After owning it for 36 years, it is still priceless to me and my odd funny bone.

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My Jacket Was Sued

I was minding my own business watching Judge Judy, like I always do, when in comes the defendant, wearing what I call MY purple pimp jacket. I ran up the stairs to make sure the purple pimp jacket was still in my closet, and it was. When I knew my pimp jacket was safe and secure, and that this dude hadn’t burglarized my house to take it, I plopped back down in front of the television. I couldn’t help but cheer for the dapperly dressed man as he tried to explain his way out of the shenanigans that made him end up as a defendant on Judge Judy. Alas! He was shady, through-and-through. Even the bolo tie couldn’t save him. I felt especially bad for his jacket. It hadn’t been adopted into a good home like mine, clearly.

Anyhoo… The guilty dude has a swell jacket just like mine, but he has neither my Prince-Albert-in-a-can Bow Tie o’ the Day, nor does he have my 2002 Funeral Potatoes Olympic pin that I so proudly display here in my purple pimp jacket’s lapel. I win.

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Finally! A Church Bow Tie Again!

I realized I hadn’t posted a Church Bow Tie o’ the Sabbath for quite some time, so yesterday I made sure to gussy up my attire for “watching” church. My nephew, Bishop Travis, was speaking, and I took extra care in choosing the appropriate bow tie for the occasion—as I always do. I decided to wear my black, 3D-printed bow tie. It’s simple and yet sophisticated. Its tips are also very sharp. I would not have worn this to the meeting if I had attended in-person, for fear Gracie would have poked a hole in her hand if she touched it. But I thought it a fitting bow tie for attending church online from my love seat, because the thing about Bishop Travis’ talks is that they—like Bow Tie—always have a point. In fact, his talks are filled with lots of points—each layered like parables. You understand what you are able to, and you chew on what you can’t understand, until you finally understand that too. Like any good parable, it’s nourishing when your spirit hungers, time and again. The larder of a good parable is never empty.