Category: Uncategorized

So…

First church nuisance: At church yesterday morning, when the 2nd not-the-bishop guy was opening the meeting, Mom said, “I can’t hear him!” But she said it more loudly than any misbehaving child in the chapel. Hers was that loudness with which hard-of-hearing folks speak, cuz they think if they can’t hear, neither can you. And sure enough, the 2nd not-the-bishop guy spoke louder, even though he was perfectly hearable before Mom’s little outburst. Mom is louder than Tigmond is in church. And Tigmond does not have an inside/church voice anywhere in his little soul, even when he’s behaving properly.

Second church nuisance: That would be me and Sister Who Wishes To Remain Nameless. Sitting in the pew ahead of us was a little girl who was probably around 18 months. Well, she and I like to wave at kids and pull faces at them and do a little peekaboo with them. We are serving our  “church mission” thusly, I suppose. Anyhoo…. At some point, I pulled out a tiny stuffed doggie from my “diaper bag” and gave it to the little princess. And then I said to Sister Who Wishes To Remain Nameless, “I really should tell the parents of the kids we go out of our way to amuse that we aren’t child predators. We just like to amuse kids in church.” (FYI My “diaper bag” is what I call the messenger bag Suzanne made me to take to church. I have it stocked with my pens and notebooks, and with toys and crayons for the herd of grandnieces and grandnephews who might need stuff to do in Sacrament Meeting. And also, I keep Mom’s water in said diaper bag. She tends to choke after partaking of the sacrament water. I don’t think that is an omen or symbol of any spiritual thing Mom has going on.)

I also remarked to Sister Who Wishes To Remain Nameless that we are like a funeral or wedding reception line. When the kids come into the chapel, they form a kind of loose line in the aisle, in our direction. Then they walk, one-by-one, through our pew to give us and Mom our hugs. I suppose this is a nuisance for those who are trying to get to seats past them while they hog the aisles to give us some sugar.

After church, and after an after-church nap, Suzanne and I drove back to C-burg. If we are in two cars for thew excursion, we caravan. Deja is always the lead car, and Vonnegut Grace follows.

And after we got home, Suzanne spent a couple of hours sifting through a week’s worth of mail. I watched Major Crimes. Our day was still not done though. We headed to SLC to the Neil Diamond concert, courtesy of Sister Who Wishes To Remain Nameless. She had given us the tickets, much to our grateful surprise.

About 30 years ago, Suzanne accompanied Sister Who Wishes To Remain Nameless to a Neil Diamond concert at The Salt Palace, a night after Suzanne and I went to the same concert. Suzanne and Sister Who Wishes To Remain Nameless are Neil groupies. I’m ok with him, but I’m pretty much just a tag-along to his concerts. (I didn’t imbibe at the show, but I did notice the vendors were selling beer for $9 a cup. That is not right.)

And you are wondering what tie I wore to the concert, I’m sure. The answer is: YOU DON’T WEAR A TIE TO A NEIL DIAMOND CONCERT!

So now you have the skinny on my busy Sabbath. I shall return to the tblog with today’s Tie o the Day #1 in just a bit. Haven’t decided on my day’s clash fashion yet. It will help me decide on an outfit to get out of my pajamas.

How is that heading for a teaser? And you still have to wait for the skinny on it all, cuz we are on the move. Not one extra minute so far today for tie stories and/or spiritual substance from the tblog. Cross your fingers, and I promise I will get a real post to y’all ASAIL. (See CAST O’ WORDS for a translation.)

Church Bow Tie o’ the Day is a Stacy Adams, yet again. And shirt is a Bugatchi, yet again. Easter colors and hues abound on both. Snow and wind snapped off icy tree limbs all over D-ville during the night, but I refuse to be thwarted from my holiday colors.

Tie o’ the Day #2 comes from Stacy Adams. My “blouse” is a Gap, classic fit. No pocket on the shirt, unfortunately. A pocket square matching the bow tie would be a fab look to walk around in.

Just pretend the polka dots on Tie o’ the Day #2 are Easter eggs if this colorful garb isn’t pastel-y  and, therefore, Easter-y enough for you.

Suzanne brought the high-fallutin’ carpet scrubber down to The Beach House for the week, to scrub the couch and chairs we are selling.  When Suzanne’s sewing machine hasn’t been creating noise pollution in the living room during the past few days, her carpet shampooer has been. The dogs are sore afraid of all the racket, but are pleased with having a clean couch to cover in their fur again.

When we live only in C-ville, the mutts will miss being able to romp and run, unleashed, in the outside wilds of Deltabama. They have such freedom to safely dog around here. I hope they will remember their D-ville life fondly, while embracing the finer aspects of citified living. Perhaps I can teach them how to sneak into concerts and museums so they can be edified by the arts.

Skitter had already slipped into this orange and brownish Tie o’ the Day #1 (a VAN HEUSEN), when we read Mercedes’ comment about her not being all hepped up about 70’s colors. Hey, Mercedes, remember Mom’s orange carpet in the living room? And how the entire wall going into the bathroom was carpeted in the stuff? But we all survived it, not much worse for the experience. I guess.

Some mutts like to curl up inside blankets to nap. Skitter prefers to stretch out in a tie to do her daily dozing. But I did a bad tie thing yesterday. I will be paying for it for the near future. I made the mistake of going uptown to do some errands, but I had forgotten to wear a tie. Let’s just say that I was hardly recognizable at Verizon and Quality Market. I was read the riot act at both locations. Of course, I immediately blamed it on Skitter’s and Roxy’s thieving ways. I said they must have pick-tied me on my way out of the house.

Tie o’ the Day #2 be another Tommy Hilfiger. It has a light blue, denim-looking background with fluorescent pink paisley paisles. Shirt is a Code Blew from the late 80’s.

With clothes, I’ve always been partial to bright and/or bold colors and designs. When I lived in the D.C. area, I had a blinding orange t-shirt and baseball hat which I wore whenever we ventured out to crowded outdoor events. No matter how many people were in our group, if we got split up, I was the lighthouse. Everyone could see me easily, so I was the meeting up spot no matter where I was. I was that dot on the signs that says YOU ARE HERE. (FYI! That was in the eon before cell phones, young folks.)

I wasn’t a fan of the landscape back there, especially the sky. But I do miss the boatload of “free” museums and events and monuments in that area. Our taxes pay for all those remarkable things, and I don’t mind that one bit.

And here’s a thing about the idea that government (and by “government” I mean city, county, state, federal) should be run like a business: The government is not a business. The government’s purpose is not to make money. The government’s purpose is to provide services and protection for its citizens. These things cost money. We citizens pay the costs because we are the ones who receive the services, protection, and benefits.

 

Tie o’ the Day #1 is a Tommy Hilfiger. I love the pointy bow ties. Their cuteness never gets old. This is our first tie foray into Easter colors, for the purposes of tipping our hats to the Easter holiday. So prepare for springy, pastel neckwear and shirts for the next week. This shirt is neither springy nor pastel. It is, however, a…..SAY IT WITH ME, TBLOGOPHILES…..Bugatchi.

We couldn’t have an Easter egg hunt today, if we wanted to. The wind would blow the carefully hidden eggs to Moab. I can see it now: a tornado funnel made entirely of plastic, pastel Easter eggs. And when the funnel petered out, some community would be blessed by the raining down of eggs with goodies inside.

I’m not engaging in hyperbole (not much, anyway) about the strength of today’s blowhard wind. When Skitter was squatting to pee this morning, the wind blew her over. Poor Skitter. She is scared of everything but us, and even the weather assaults her. On the other paw, there is no category of hurricane or tornado that can budge Roxy’s girth. Perhaps when it’s windy we should leash Skitter to her, so Roxy can keep her anchored to the earth.

Just colors and squares for Tie o’ the Day #2 (DOCKERS) and Shirt o’ the Day #2 (Bugatchi), as well.

More yammering on the morrow.🤡

Tie o’ the Day #1 is an ALFANI. Button-down, pocket-bearing shirt is a houndstooth Bugatchi.

In a recent Letter to the Editor in The New Yorker, a writer references an 1891 Oscar Wilde essay called “The Decay of Lying”. In his essay, Wilde tells us that “the true liar” can be recognized by his “frank, fearless statements, his superb irresponsibility, his healthy, natural disdain of proof of any kind!” Alternative facts, anyone? Policy by Twitter, my friends? Can you say OLIGARCHY?

In the same issue of The New Yorker, on the same Letter to the Editor page, another writer talks about the idea bruited around that Trump acts like a child. This writer says, “This is an affront to children everywhere: children are not inherently narcissistic, ignorant, cruel, or vindictive. They tend to accept other human beings with an open mind and heart, without prejudice. Would that a five-year-old were our President.”

Ponder that, folks.

Tie o’ the Day #2 is a remarkably beautiful pink/blue/purple bow tie from Stacy Adams. Shirt is a thirty-year-old stussy.

I remember walking through Nordstrom’s at Crossroads Mall in Salt Lake City, in the late 80’s–when out of nowhere, the buttons on this black shirt called my name. I will never tire of their varied sizes and pearl essence. This is a shirt I will have until the day my Hanky Panky finally does me in. I do need to wear it more than I do, but I have always had this little problem about wearing something speshul. I try to “save” it so I don’t ruin it. That is so stoopid, so I’m working on being better at actually wearing my fave-rave clothes. If wearing my best duds out into the world wears them out, then so be it. It’s the circle of clothing life, isn’t it?

Tie o’ the Day #1 is a pierre cardin. Fluttery stripes created out of small squares. Shirt’s an old stripey CHAPS. The shirt kinda reminds me of Dad’s overalls. The combination of this shirt and Dad’s overalls would be a prime example of clash fashion. It’s a safe bet that you will see that ‘fit show up on this tblog.

We just got finished eating “dinner” at Mom’s. Although technically “dinner” is an evening meal, I have always felt like the afternoon meal is either lunch or dinner, based on the dishes served. Something lighter, like a sandwich, is lunch. Something more substantial, like a roast, is dinner. However, the mid-day meal is the only meal that can be accurately designated as one of two different names. For example, breakfast is always breakfast; brunch is always brunch; the evening meal is always dinner. But depending on what is on your plate, the mid-day meal is either lunch or dinner.

Now, that was a truly interesting voyage into sociolinguistics, wasn’t it? Yes, I think about such topics. Why? I have no idea. Anyhoo…

Mom’s table was surrounded by me, Suzanne, Gary, Kathi, and Ritchi. Mom didn’t sit down to eat, but walked around the kitchen doing vague things to make sure we were all feasting away voraciously. Roast, mashed potatoes, carrots, green beans, stuffing (from Anne), rolls. OMGolly, there was plenty o’ nourishment to farctate the county. And then right when we are done eating, and we have pushed back our chairs from the table, Mom grows a lightbulb above her head and exclaims, “I forgot the salad in the fridge.” Sure enough, she retrieves a green salad from the fridge and tries to feed it to us before we leave. (We cannot eat one more calorie, Mom, or we will explode and implode and combust, simultaneously.) But there is no telling Mom “no”. She simply doesn’t hear that word when it comes to her putting food on your plate. Selective hearing is a skill she has mastered. In fact, it’s the only kind of hearing she can still manage to do.