Category: Shirts

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I Need A Trim

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.

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There’s An Ascot For That

Call me Heathcliff. I woke up feeling a bit Wuthering Heights-y today, which means I just had to don a snooty Ascot o’ the Day. It’s odd that I ever find myself in a silky, ascot-y, Wuthering Heights-y mood at all because I never really got into the vibe of the book. I admit I do overly enjoy the 1939 Laurence Olivier/Merle Oberon movie version of the book. And it is also true that the Kate Bush song of the same name gets pleasantly stuck in my head for hours, at least once a year, prompted by who-knows-what. All I can tell you for sure is that when I’m in a Wuthering Heights mood like I am today, the only logical thing for me to do is to head off for a drive in my truck—in search of windy, foggy, muddy moors over which I will aimlessly run while alternately crying out “Heathcliff” and “Cathy” to all ghosts everywhere in my vicinity. The ascot-less Skitter will surely accompany me and wonder what’s up. Or—more likely—I will just sit here in my ascot and re-watch the old movie until I get the moors out of my system.

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What’s Up, Doc?

I decided my Big Willie’s Plumbing Repair t-shirt was appropriate to wear to my appointment with my innard doctor at Huntsman today. I threw in a nautical-themed wood Bow Tie o’ the Day to encourage the “smooth sailing ahead” vibe. My doctor appreciated my choices.

Suzanne had to work, so I took the Saddle Purse with me as my official hospital escort. As you can see, Saddle Purse doesn’t always obey the rules we mere mortals do. As I sat in the waiting area to be called to the exam room, Saddle Purse just had to strike up a protest against the tyranny of scientific facts by flagrantly sitting in the restricted chair beside me. I felt kinda bad for my rebel pal, the Saddle Purse, because no one took offense at its blatant civil disobedience. There ensued neither yelling nor scuffling at the Saddle Purse’s public defiance. A few passers-by pointed directly at the Saddle Purse and told me it was “so cute.” It’s mighty difficult to create a newsworthy brouhaha when we, the people, are slinging compliments at a full-fledged protester. There’s a lesson in that for us all if we will pay attention, I am sure. Just sayin’.

The actual appointment with my Cranky Hanky Panky surgeon went pretty much as I had imagined it would. My doctor read the organs in my abdomen like they were written in Braille. He did not particularly like what he read when he poked the area of my pancreas. He especially didn’t like that I nearly jumped off the exam table in a shot of pain when he poked my Cranky Hanky Panky point-blank. Still, my doctor and I agreed to not worry about my teensy, wayward organ until we know anything specific about its current state of being. I told him we might as well assign all the worrying to Suzanne, since nobody’s gonna be able to stop her from from doing it anyway. But there’s certainly no need for the rest of us to suffer needlessly.

After my chat with the doctor, I gave what felt like a fishing pond full of my blood for lab tests today. The first available CT scan I could schedule is in mid-March, so I have plenty of time to study for that test. And then the first available appointment I could schedule with my doctor to discuss my various test results is in April. That’s gonna make for a long month of uncertainty. I resolve to be patient and hopeful, while still allowing myself occasional fits of childish impatience and mortal fear. Fun times ahead, boys and girls! And, as always, y’all are free to join me for the entire tour.

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An Interesting Household Chore

My Hat o’ the Day is from a real place: Toad Suck, Arkansas—from one of our travel adventures about 18 months ago. We had a splendid time in Arkansas, and I honor the name of this place with a couple of hats, as is my touristy way. I wear the hat today as a symbol of how I feel about my day’s bigly household chore, because the chore kinda sucks. When I have occasion to do so, I vacuum and clean the couch and love seat. But the best vacuums in the world—pet vacuums, included—cannot suck up the Skitter fur that somehow gets caught in the furniture’s seams. My mission today—if I choose to accept it, and I do—is to tweeze the trapped fur from the seams of the living room furniture. Yes, I pluck my eyebrows AND my furniture—with different sets of tweezers, of course. As Glen Campbell and I always sing, “Such are the dreams of the everyday housewife…”🤡

FYI Bolo Tie o’ the Day is a good choice to wear when cleaning. It saves the “real” neckwear from possibly being harmed in the course of housework—while still allowing me to wear my signature clothing item.

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Reminder: Call Your Mom, If You Still Can

Here’s a picture of me actually calling Mom yesterday. Well, I didn’t really wear the face mask, but I thought it clashed nicely with my outfit as a whole, so I wore it for the photo. And, to be honest, I didn’t really call Mom on this obsolete phone which now hangs in my garage. But it’s the phone that hung on my family’s kitchen wall for 60 years, so I knew it had to be in the snapshot. Mom was the official house phone-answerer. Dad had a compulsive aversion to answering the phone—except when Mom was out of town overnight, and then he sat at the kitchen table, waiting for her call.

Please note the smudges on the bottom of the receiver. Mom was probably in the middle of mixing a batch of cookies when the phone last rang. Mom always answered the phone (and she was always cooking something or other as she answered), and then she’d use her shoulder to hold the phone to her ear while she washed her hands, gabbing away like a pro to whoever was on the other end of the line. I’m so glad I decided not to wash the phone before I re-hung it here with me. Those smudges have lasting meaning.

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Got Books?

Tie o’ the Day is a splotchy, skinny tie. I generally prefer wide ties, just because the bigger the tie, the more there is for all to see. I like my bow ties that way too. Books Face Mask o’ the Day seemed appropriate since I am tidying up my various piles, stacks, and desks all around the house this morning, and every place I tidy, there are bookmarked books I am currently reading. There’s nothing new about that: I read, therefore, I am—wherever I go. Since I like to take an accounting of things to share with y’all, I did a Books-I’m-Currently-Reading Tally. I don’t know if you’ll be pleased or disgusted to know that I am in the process of reading 17 different books, simultaneously. But what can I say? I’m in every room in the house on any given day, and I never know exactly when I will be in the mood for reading somebody else’s writing. I don’t want to miss a thing.

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I’ve Been Called A Lot Of Things, But Never This

This morning my attire said I was feeling pixelated. This afternoon I seem to have been feeling a bit paisley-ated. I cannot sing the high praises of paisley nearly enough. Paisley is a hit wherever you find it. Tie o’ the Day’s paisles do a kind of blendy thing with my paisle-filled shirt. Apparently, I can blend on occasion without getting hives.

And the bigly news of recent days is this piece of information I learned from someone anonymously commenting on TIE O’ THE DAY: Whenever I post something about how we should all be kind and be good neighbors, or when I wear a t-shirt or face mask about unity, or being nice, or having empathy—when I do these things, it’s a secret code that means I’m a socialist/communist who hates democracy.

Yup, that’s what I was told. Wow! I had no idea I hated democracy! I had no idea I was using code words for socialism/communism! I’m glad somebody told me, or I never would have known how wrong I’ve been about all this “love your neighbor” malarkey I peddle. Here, I thought I was simply repeating the lessons I was taught in Sunday School and by my parents. Perhaps I should re-think my crazy values about kindness.

Nope.

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My Attire Speaks

You’ve heard the saying about how some people wear their heart on their sleeve. Well, I tend to wear mine on my whole shirt and Tie o’ the Day, and today I woke up feeling a touch pixelated. I wonder what that means. Guess I’ll find out.

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I Have An Idea

As we get ready to witness our country’s transition from one Presidential administration to the next tomorrow, I propose we all behave like adult patriots—instead of like spoiled brats who exploit their rights without shouldering the ever-present responsibilities that secure those rights. In short, how ’bout we all act like grown-up’s? Just a thought.🇺🇸

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Makin’ A List

I didn’t need much at Dick’s Market this afternoon, but I did write myself a list. As you probably already know, it’s a Law of Nature that no matter how hard you try to make a complete grocery list, and no matter how diligently you read your list at the store, you will get back home and discover you forgot something. You will always overlook at least one thing that is written plain as day on your list. Also, your list will never have everything you need to buy written on it. Part of the reason for this snafu is that there is never just one list. You start a list, then you promptly misplace it, so you start another list. And so on. If you can find the first list you wrote, that’s a gift from the universe.

After you think you are done with your shopping list, you will certainly think of a few last minute additions, and you will think to yourself, “Oh, I’m too busy to write that down right now. I’m sure I’ll remember that item.” Which you won’t.

As I scribbled the indecipherable-to-anyone-but-me words which were my grocery items, I felt like I was forgetting something. I had been craving something earlier in the day, but I could not remember exactly what it was. Skitter saved the day, though. When I was telling her where I was going and when I’d be back, she all-knowingly said, “It’s Bow Tie o’ the Day, you twit!” And she was right, of course. I wanted Skittles. Bow Ties are sneaky that way. When you put one on, you generally can’t see what it’s up to. So don’t count on your bow tie to remind you of anything you need at the grocery store.

[Please note that my pencil critter is wearing a red bow tie. Of course.]