Witty & Wise Ties, Trivia & Lies
And by Sunday afternoon, we were in Nashville. I chose paisley, on paisley, on paisley for my traveling attire. Bow Tie o’ the Friendly Skies is two of my fave things: paisley and wood. Bow Tie scored me bigly points with the flight crew when we boarded the plane.
I am humbled by how much love has surrounded me from the moment I took my first breath. Thank you, Suzanne, for your steadiness. I’m sorry I am so often a storm.
Merry Valentine’s Day, y’all!
[This is a re-post of a popular tale from August 2018—about three weeks after my Hanky Panky surgery. I was recuperating, mostly by not-lifting things around the house, on Suzanne’s orders. Enjoy.]
Bow Ties o’ the Day had a fantastic time at Cafe Niche for Sunday brunch. As you can see, Suzanne wanted to get in on the bow tie act. We donned our bow tie bibs for the feast because we were famished, and we were afraid we might eat sloppily. The bow ties on each bib did a perfect job of keeping our clothing from being defaced by our lack of delicate eating. And bigly Bow Tie o’ the Day presents its grapes– Mormon grapes for Sunday, I’m sure.
Brunch can have a calming effect. I recommend it when you’re stressed out or tense. Suzanne and I stressed ourselves out by having a little tiff last night— over nothing of any real importance. But the tiff happened, and the tiff went on in silence, right on into this morning.
In the middle of the night when I had to potty, I ended up using the last few squares on the toilet paper roll. There was a new roll on the bathroom vanity, three inches from the tp holder. Normally, of course, I’d change out the empty roll—no matter what time of the middle of the night it was. But I was still miffed about the tiff, and there was no way in heck I was gonna politely take the old roll off and put the new one on. Nope. Suzanne was gonna have to do it herself the next time she needed to potty. (That’ll teach her!) And do you know what I thought in my tiff-miffed head as I walked back to bed? I thought with great sarcasm, “Well, she told me I wasn’t allowed to lift anything, and I’m sure that includes a roll of toilet paper.” And I sooo wanted her to say something to me about the empty toilet paper roll incident this morning, so I could say the same snotty thing right to her precious face. But she said nothing about it. And then we went to brunch, and everything got forgiven and forgotten.
I looked for my wood puzzle-piece Tie o’ the Day in the Tie Room this morning, and it was nowhere to be found— until I checked on the napping Skitter. Behold! I think Skitter is hinting she is a bit tired of us paying so much attention to the joy of puzzling lately. The Skit will have my undivided attention for hours now.
Suzanne says she will gladly pay the postage to ship the doggie doo-doo puzzle to anyone who wants it. She was a good sport to help put it together, and she laughed heartily about doing it. But she’d rather the puzzle live in somebody else’s house now. Be the first to dibs the 1000-piece marvel, and I’ll ship it to you for free— with Suzanne’s blessing.
I am the household Procurer o’ Puzzles, and I want you to know that the puzzle we’re putting together now is called THE CRAFT CUPBOARD. As I posted before, Suzanne deserves a medal for putting up with me. THE CRAFT CUPBOARD puzzle is her actual reward—with all its depictions of scissors and rulers and fabric and colored markers and yarn and paints and a gluttony of other misc. craftical notions.
We here at TIE O’ THE DAY thought some of you might be curious to see the completed “dogs doo-dooing” puzzle. Suzanne was discombobulated by the subject matter, but she puzzled right along with me, nonetheless. And yes, she placed the last pieces together. She’s The Puzzle Closer.
We seem to be binge-puzzling around here these days. Tie o’ the Day keeps getting in the way of my work and pushing pieces off the table, but its design caught my eye today. Note to self: Wear a bow tie, not a necktie, when putting together jigsaw puzzles.
We recovered from the difficult PENCILS puzzle. Yes, Suzanne still thinks she put in the final piece. Let’s keep it that way as long as we can. I set out the pieces for a new puzzle, which is currently providing both of us with some always-welcome levity. The puzzle’s title is simply, POOPING DOGS. See it for yourself. So far, the pooping dogs we’ve assembled are doing what they’re doing quite tastefully.
I did assure Suzanne that I have no intention of buying the other puzzles in the same series, like POOPING CHIHUAHUA or HUMPING CHIHUAHUAS. I have at least a little class. She was very excited to know prime won’t be delivering them to our house.
Folks, the very fact that I ordered this puzzle is evidence enough that Suzanne deserves a medal or a trophy, or both. How she puts up with me, I will never know.
Last weekend, Suzanne and I ventured out to a comedy show. I thought my Prince-Albert-in-a-can Bow Tie o’ the Evening was absolutely appropriate for a comedic adventure.
We all had a swell time listening to the hilarious Paula Poundstone, whose turning and twisting observations were spot-on. I went on a principled strike, refusing to take pix at the event because Paula was not wearing a tie! I have watched her perform on tv since the late 80’s, and in every performance I saw, she was wearing a tie. But on the one night I— the TIE O’ THE DAY tblogger, and constant wearer o’ ties— paid to see Paula Poundstone perform in person, she didn’t wear a tie. It broke my heart a little. But she did wear a tuxedo, and she fiddled with her collar enough when she came onto the stage that I felt like she was realizing she had forgotten to tie one on, so to speak. I forgave her, but I still didn’t take any pictures. My tie feelings were hurt, for each and every tie I own. I’m almost completely over the snub to ties everywhere.
Life can be difficult. Small things and bigly things can grab us and throw us off track. Even things we have under control can have uncertain outcomes. We stumble, we fall, we get hurt. Bad things happen to us all. Stuff happens. That’s life.
If we’re lucky folks, when we find ourselves in an existential jam, we have our people to help us out: friends, family, Good Samaritans, and dogs. And we have ourselves. We forget to tap into our strengths. Most of you are up to the task of helping others, but are you up to the task of saving yourself? The answer to our dilemmas is mostly in our ability to help ourselves. Take care of yourself every day. Be kind to yourself. You’re no good to anyone else if you’re falling apart inside and out.
A few days before Christmas, we celebrated our 6th Anniversary (legal). After a bazillion years of being together, we got hitched in 2013 the minute we could. It was in between court decisions. No time to plan. No time to have a party. It was a kind of shotgun wedding, between court decisions. We were just glad to git ‘er done successfully.
This year we celebrated the occasion with dinner at The Roof, overlooking the Salt Lake Temple and the Christmas lights at Temple Square. Bow Tie o’ the Evening was formal and X-mas ornament-y. We had a dazzling view. We got THE best table. Our waiter was kind enough to snap our picture with the bright view in the background. He seems to have used a photography technique which I can only describe as the make-the-people-in-the-photo-appear-blobbed-up-like-fat-squatty-toads technique.
You know I’m into giving anniversary gifts based on the “traditional” type of gift which corresponds to the number of years. For example, wood is the traditional anniversary gift for the 5th anniversary. Last year, I scored bigly points with Suzanne by managing to procure her some wood crochet hooks.
The traditional 6th anniversary gift is something iron or candy, and I had a heckuva time coming up with something clever. I did manage to find earrings made of iron, as well as an iron necklace for Suzanne, cuz she’s always ready for jewelry. But I wanted to give her something more. And then I remembered something I saw as a kid in what I now call “old lady houses” or “Arsenic and Old Lace houses:” a vintage, purple slag glass, IRON-shaped CANDY dish filled with Hershey’s Hugs and Kisses. A two-fer. Score! Suzanne loves it. She was born with “old lady house” knick-knack likes.
The first purple slag glass, iron-shaped candy dish I was able to locate online was $29,000. That’s not the one I got for Suzanne. It doesn’t cost $29,000 to be clever with a traditional anniversary gift. I’ll hip you to what Suzanne gifted me for our anniversary, in the next post.
I chose a “wrapped gifts” theme Bow Tie o’ the Day to wear on Christmas Day. We didn’t do much but puzzle on Christmas Day, with the exception of joining Suzanne’s family at her parents’ house. Every year, Suzanne’s dad reads the family a Christmas story of his choosing, and tops it off by reading about Christ’s birth from the Bible. I look forward to it. Suzanne’s family is bigly and semi-boisterous and fun. I do miss being around Mom at Christmas though. (And not just for her food.) She tells me over and over she’s grateful to Suzanne’s parents for taking such good care of me. I’m grateful for it too. Now, that’s a gift!
Rowan wore his new haircut over to our place after we were finished at Suzanne’s parents. Skitter loves him, although Rowan’s male voice used to petrify her. You know Skitter loves you when she positions herself near you, then pretends to stretch and— nonchalantly and by calculated accident— puts her front paws on your arm or leg, as she’s doing with Rowan in the photo. She ever so softly and discreetly paws her way into your heart. But don’t look directly into her eyes, or she’ll shake her way to one of her crates. The Skit says, “It’s so hard to be loved.”
As was requested after this morning’s post, I’ve included here three pix of Rowan’s BEFORE hairs. His hair is thick and beauteous, so I don’t have a preference about its length. I am liking his short cut now, cuz it’s what he’s got. If it’s clean and not covering his handsome mug, I’m good with whatever.
We had a post-Christmas breakfast with Rowan at Vertical Diner, a vegan diner around the corner from his apartment in SLC. I wore my “ugly sweater” Bow Tie o’ the Day for the occasion. We see Rowan rarely since he slaves away many hours at his barista job and is student-ing at the U of U. He is 22, so his social life is a top priority, as well— as it should be. I think I’d be a bit worried about him if he spent all his spare time with us.
Note that Rowan cut off his flowing locks of head hairs last week. He’s donating the leftover 14-inch braids to an organization that makes wigs for chemo patients. Rowan’s heart has always been in the fight for those who struggle.