Category: Suzanne

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Tradin’ In The Not-old, Old Cell Phone

Bow Tie o’ the Day accompanied me to the Apple Store to find me a new phone. Bow ties do not get to have cell phones, because they don’t have pockets or purses or even hands in which to carry them. It was only I who was in the market for a phone I didn’t need, but just had to have. And why did I absolutely have to have an iPhone XR, when I had a perfectly functioning, year-old iPhone 7 Plus? Because Suzanne’s work upgraded her phone to an iPhone XR, and I have to keep up with the Suzanne’s– since I don’t know any Jones’s to keep up with. I am such a follower. Not.

Really, though, I don’t know what came over me. I do not have to have the latest version of anything technological. It really doesn’t matter to me how old or new my technology is as long as it does what I need it to do. My desktop computer is at least eight years old. It works almost fine, and I refuse to buy a new desktop computer until it dies. I’ve had my laptop for three years, and it runs like a dream– even though desktop computer/laptop years are not mere years, they are decades. Technology changes that rapidly. But I am not one of those folks who needs to constantly upgrade to the current versions of their gadgets.

When Suzanne brought her new iPhone XR home, I gave it the once-over– playing with its newer features that my “old” phone didn’t have. While checking out her phone, I must have been making a gleeful, noisy fuss about the coolness of some of the stuff her phone can do which my phone couldn’t. And suddenly… Suzanne (who is as thrifty as I am) said, “Meet me at the Apple Store on my lunch break tomorrow, and we’ll get you an iPhone XR just like mine.” And so we met at the Apple Store on Suzanne’s lunch break. And she bought me the phone, cuz she’s a nice human being.

The lesson I learned from the whole experience is this: I should make bigly, joyous noises about every darn thing I could possibly want. Suzanne is bound to buy me at least some of them.

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It Was A Verbal Knockout

Bow Tie o’ the Day added a formal, black tie flare to our venture to LAGOON last evening. It was a night of appreciation for Davis Schools employees and their families. Free parking, free eats, cheapo tickets. It was a bit chilly but still a blast, even though we didn’t go on even one ride. The place was packed, and I swear we had to park clear up in Kaysville. We’ll go again later this summer. We didn’t get to LAGOON last year because of my pancreas surgery. I am looking forward to testing my innards on roller coasters this year. My guts better stay put together.

My favorite part of last night was the fisticuffs I nearly got into when I had to defend Suzanne’s honor. Long story. But the gist is this: We were in the very, very, very long food line and some bigly, portly guy ahead of us accused Suzanne of twice bullying his kids. Excuse me!!!! She hadn’t even spoken to his kids. Clearly, this guy was frustrated with the long food line. I could be rude and make a joke right now about how the rotund guy was probably dying of hunger and was afraid he’d lose a calorie off his not-sexy gut if he didn’t get a free hamburger at that very moment. But I won’t do that (although I just did). I’m a nice person, and I take pity on those who are less fortunate in the politeness department.

Anyhoo… This dude got in my face, as they say. And I got in his face. And I admit that I made fists, although I did not lift them. Instead, I used words I know he had to go home and look up in the dictionary. That’s my secret to winning verbal scuffles. If the person I’m jousting with doesn’t understand what I’m saying, they aren’t sure if I’m with them or against them. Thus, they have no idea how to respond. Let me be clear, folks. Don’t ever, ever, ever be disrespectful to Suzanne. You will pay. I will be the one who exacts the payment from you. And you might not even understand how my words did it.

FYI   My DI hat does not refer to Deseret Industries. It’s from our trip to Dauphin Island, AL last year.

And another FYI   That’s Suzanne’s back, in front of me in the bigly eats line. You can clearly see she is not bullying any children.

 

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Sealed With A Lipstick Kiss (S.W.A.L.K.)

As opposed to regular ol’ S.W.A.K.

Here’s the same bigly, jumbo-ly Bow Tie o’ the Day as this morning’s post photo offered up. In this snapshot, my hairs and I were getting ready for today’s TMS treatment. In fact, it was my TMS technician, Tenzin, who finally mentioned the lip print I had on my cheek. Doh!

When Suzanne told me goodbye as she headed out to work this morning, she told me to NOT forget to wash the goodbye lipstick off my face before I went out into the world of neuropsychiatric treatments. And what was the first thing I promptly forgot to do right before I, myself, left the house for my appointment? Yup. Off I went, feeling just slightly more loved on my left cheek than on my right cheek– but unable to come up with the reason for the strange imbalance I felt.

Vonnegut Grace Vibe was gas-less, so I gassed her up before hitting the freeway. The woman I chit-chatted with at the 7-11 gas pumps didn’t point out my cheek’s lip print . Jack, the dude who seems to work at the Centerville 7-11 24/7, didn’t clue me in about it either– even as I stood at his register gabbing with him and buying a bottle of Diet Coke. The two office assistants I spoke with in the reception area at my TMS clinic spoke nary a word about it either. Finally, Tenzin commented on it.

Looking back, none of these folks seemed fazed by what was on my face. Clearly, you don’t have to know me well to figure I must have meant to do whatever I did, fashion-wise. To know me even a little is to expect to view an odd style. I decided to wear the lip print for the rest of the day, and the people who assisted me as I got a new phone at the Apple Store didn’t bring it up once.

So far, nothing unpleasant has happened to me or my cheek. In fact, the whole lipstick faux pas is generating ideas about what else I can get away with putting on my face– causing people to notice, but not tell me about. I see it as a new challenge. And I think Suzanne needs to invest in a bunch of much brighter lipstick than she already has. Like she says, “If you’re going to wear lipstick, make sure people see it.” Amen to that.

I’m positive anyone who saw me noticed my smooch print, but I think they were jealous. I was lucky enough to have a kiss on my cheek, while their cheeks were kiss-less. I think the red remnants of the kiss I received actually made some people feel unloved. Sorry. But not.

Hey, humans, kiss your people goodbye each day as they go out to conquer the world. They are going out there for YOU, you know.

BTW   Yes, I do have another pair of paw print Sloggers just like this at home.

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Visiting Mom In Deltassippi A Couple Of Weeks Ago

M & M’s Bow Tie o’ the Day knows as well as anyone that a trip to see Mom at Millard Care and Rehab is a trip for Suzanne to see the other Mom also, as in MOM’S CRAFTS. Yup, Deltatucky is a two-mom town for Suzanne. I hang with Mom. Suzanne hangs with Mom AND the Mother of All Fabric Stores.

M & M’s Bow Tie also reminded me to deliver a very important gift for Mom. You see, every Easter season, when all the malted milk ball eggs show up in the stores, and the Peeps take their place alongside them in the Easter candy aisle, I buy Mom a bag of spiced jelly bean eggs. This year, when I thought about getting them for her, I figured I should skip it– since her blood sugar has been fiendishly high. I hoped she wouldn’t think about them this year. When I went to visit Mom a month ago, all she could talk about was the bag of spiced jelly beans I didn’t show up with. I wasn’t going to let that happen again, so on my last visit– a couple of weeks ago– I made triple-sure I delivered a bag o’ spiced jelly beans to her bedside.

Should I have given her such a sugary treat? Not really. But Mom is 88. She knows all about her high blood sugar. If she wants to risk eating a bag of Brach’s Spiced Jelly Beans so badly, she’s going to get ’em from me. I might be 55, but I am still Mom’s baby– and I do not say NO to my mother. Never have. Never will. My job is to spoil Mom. And I’m telling you right now: If Mom wants a six-pack of Budweiser to drink, a pipe to smoke, and a tin of Copenhagen to chew ‘n’ spit, I will get them for her. I will even barricade her door at MCR while she partakes of her vices, so she won’t get caught by her “guards” while she’s being bad.

BTW   When I was at MCR last time, I left Skitter with Mom in her room while I talked with a couple of family members in the hall near the facility’s entrance. Well, out of nowhere, here comes my pal, Katie, who takes such good care of Mom at MCR. Katie took one look at me and immediately said, “Oh, didn’t Skitter come down with you today?” I told her Skitter was in with Mom. And, without one more word to me, off Katie went to check it out I guess. Apparently, Katie was done with me. So I went back to the conversation I had been having with my people. Later, I looked for Katie throughout the day, but I couldn’t find her again before Suzanne and Skitter and I had to head back to the bigly city. I have always joked that it’s Skitter who MCR really likes to see show up, not me at all. Now– thanks to Katie– I know it’s not a joke. It’s true. Skitter is my ticket in. As long as I have her, I’ll be welcome at MCR. I hope.

[Note to Katie: I’m exaggerating that tiny story bigly, for the purpose of increasing chuckles. But I really did try to find you, and couldn’t.]

FYI   Yes, that’s Suzanne in one of the photos, showing Mom my purse. My purse gets around. I wonder if it “sleeps around,” as well.

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Warning! Read Product Labels Carefully!

Tiny Bow Tie o’ the Day believes, like I do, that one of the fantastic things about having a bigly extended family and a gaggle of friends is that there is almost always a baby soon to be born. We’ve got infants on the way from all directions right now.

For the brand, spankin’ new babies and their parents, we always put together pretty much the same gift cornucopia to present to the new bambino. It’s stuff they will need. Suzanne’s special contribution to our diapers-and-wipes-and-bibs-filled offering is a pile of baby blankets she creates. She does not believe a baby needs only one of her blankets. And she is right. Any baby who receives many Suzanne-made blankets is guaranteed to be a happy baby.

My special contribution to the baby’s gift bundle is buying the diaper rash-slaying Boudreaux’s Butt Paste. With a baby product name like that, you know it’s exactly the kind of thing my eccentric self must give a newborn. Diaper rash is not pleasant. At least as far as Butt Paste is concerned, somebody can get a minor giggle out of using it.

But I am here to caution you: Do not confuse Boudreaux’s Butt Paste with Rub Some Butt bbq seasoning. Do not mistakenly put the Rub Some Butt in the baby’s room, while also mistakenly putting the Butt Paste in the pantry. That would be a tragedy. Look at the labels closely, folks. Like the television ads told us in the 70’s, reading is fundamental.

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Catching Up On Posts

These Bow Tie o’ the Day photos have been waiting to have their debut for a couple of weeks now. I refuse to keep them from their public any longer.

The P!NK concert in SLC was incredible, as any P!NK show will be. In the photo of the stage, she’s wearing black, up in the chandelier. And look! My purse had its own seat, as well as its own Diet Coke for the performance– at least when Suzanne went off to the potty room. The purse boogied and sang with us all evening. You know what’s really sad about that? My purse can carry a tune better than I can.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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I’m A Tourist Attraction– To Suzanne

I gussied up in a gold-flecked, diamond-point Bow Tie o’ the Day for this morning’s TMS treatment. Suzanne accompanied me this time. Not only was she curious about what the sessions are actually like, she needed to see for herself that the medical professionals at UNI aren’t torturing me. She came away from the experience reassured and feeling I’m well cared for there– especially by my TMS nurse, who routinely declares she digs my bow ties, my fashion, AND my purse. 4 treatments down, 32 to go.

During today’s TMS, Suzanne sat where my saddle purse usually sits when I’m reclined for treatment. It’s the chair that gives me the best view of the purse while I’m being electromagnetically zapped in the head. I made Suzanne hold it on her lap, so I could keep an eye on them both. It was comforting to see them there being my audience watching me twitch and wince while I wore my beanie and earplugs. But mostly, it was comforting to know they were protecting each other from being pilfered by any possible evil clinic passers-by. I absolutely must not lose either one of them. As far as I know there is no Lost and Found for saddle purses and Suzanne’s.

 

 

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Hairs Thursday #7

We didn’t forget today is Hairs Thursday. We’ve simply had a P!NK hangover from last night’s concert (no alcohol involved). We slept in this morning and have been singing badly and dancing even more badly all day. I shall post about our P!NK adventures tomorrow. And yes! My saddle purse made it through Vivint Arena security and was able to see the show with us.

Anyhoo… This afternoon, billiard ball Bow Tie o’ the Day and I were thinking of an idea for my hairs, and Suzanne said, “I know what your hairs should do! Here’s what you do when you don’t have curlers.” She then cut the ends off a plastic Diet Coke bottle, grabbed some bobby pins, and gave me a bigly fat curl atop my noggin.’ It felt weightless. It felt like I had a curler of air in my hairs. But my hairs are too thin for even a curler o’ air to stay in its place very long. It was fun while it lasted.

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I’m A Home Potato

It’s not an issue of codependence. It’s not that I can’t handle being in my own company. It is not that I can’t fill up my time with my own whims o’ plenty. But when Suzanne is out of town, I’m not quite totally “home”– even in my own house. Even while wearing Tie o’ the Day, I feel a kind of homesickness when I’m a bachelorette for a day or so. I walk around the entire time checking my pockets, looking through my notes, and generally feeling like I’m forgetting something significant. It happens every damn time Suzanne ventures off. The feeling is slightly irritating. It’s like a ghost pain. But I sort of like it. I know it will go away. I’ll find what I’m missing, as soon as Suzanne flies back to SLC International Airport Wednesday afternoon.

The last two years before Suzanne and I sold the Delta house, I spent most of my time alone there in Delta hanging with Mom. Suzanne spent time there when she could. At times when I was there alone, I felt like I wasn’t even wearing my own skin. I didn’t feel like my authentic self without Suzanne around to participate in my antics, or call me on my whatever-I-need-to-be-called-on. That was in my hometown, on my “home block,” in the midst of my family– next door to my mother. With all that homey-ness, I still wasn’t exactly ME. Not without my superior half.

Oh, I know who I am and how I am. I can more than competently take care of myself. I’m perfectly content with my own thoughts and games. I’m an independent gal. I don’t pout, or weep, or wail, or moan, or gnash my teeth. In fact, I don’t have a clue what it means to gnash one’s teeth. How exactly does one do that? It’s just that my inner GPS is a bit skiwampus when I’m on my own. I don’t really worry about it though. That little off-kilter feeling I feel when I’m on my own is what lets me know I’m creating a life and home with the right person. I’ll feel at home and on-kilter again when I pick up Suzanne and her bags at the airport Wednesday.

And then, that evening we will be feeling at home together at the P!NK concert in SLC. I’ve already packed my earplugs in my saddle purse for the bigly event.

BTW In keeping with the “home” theme of this post, I wanted my selfie to show me wearing a tie or bow tie showcasing a “home.” I discovered I don’t own a piece of “home” neckwear, so I’m wearing a “gnome” tie. At least the words rhyme.

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I’m Questioning The Purse

I sported a sugar skulls Bow Tie o’ Last Night when we went to CORBIN’S GRILLE to feast. Sugar skull designs should be worn year-round, not just around the Halloween season. They are dandy. When I selfied this picture, Suzanne and I were stuck in traffic on I-15– where we traveled to Layton at zero mph much of the drive. Somehow we still got to dinner on time.

What you can’t see in this photo is my new horse saddle purse– the only purse I’ve ever owned. It’s on the floor. Next time I snap a pic of me in the car, I will make sure my purse is on the back seat, so you can gaze upon it in the photo.

I’m beginning to re-think this whole purse thing though. The saddle purse has made me say words to Suzanne I never thought I would hear coming out of my own mouth, and I don’t know if I feel good about saying such things. For example, if I have to run to the little cowgirls’ room to potty when we’re at a restaurant, I automatically say, “Please watch my purse.” And then when I return to the table, I find the following words leaving my mouth: “Thanks for watching my purse.” It makes me feel so weird to say anything about “my purse.” And it kills me that I don’t even have to think of saying it. It just naturally falls out of my mouth, as if I’ve been using bodyguards for my purses for decades. What has happened to me? What am I turning into? I made it through the world for 55 years, never owning– or wanting to own– a purse. And now, not only did I have to have this one, I constantly worry about its location and safety– like it’s a kid or a pet. How did I turn into a purse lady?

Last night when Suzanne and I left CORBIN’S, we walked out into a waterfall of rain we didn’t know was gonna show up. Gee, I didn’t even have my cape. I always wear a cape when we’re out on the town, but I had left it in the car because I wasn’t cold when we went in. As we leapt through the parking lot to the car through the raindrops, I suddenly became horrified and yelled, “It’s raining on my purse!!!!” I also said a swear word. (Not the really bad one. I don’t say that one.)

Hey, Helen Jr., it’s a purse, for gosh sakes! It’s not alive! 👛

I am pathetic.