Category: wisdom

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Life Is A Punchline

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.

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I Hate Haters

Skitter’s Ties o’ the Day offer up this story for your contemplation. Every day, when we still had the Delta house, and I still had a daily Delta/Mom routine, Skitter would put on a tie and ask to go with me on my daily Diet-Coke-at-The-Pub visit. At first, I told Skitter she couldn’t go to The Pub with me cuz she was a minor. But when she aged out of minor-hood, I then had to break it to her that she would never be legally allowed in The Pub, or other places like it— simply because she is not a people. She had no idea she was “different”, so it came as an enormous shock to her skittish, canine system.

I explained to Skitter about prejudice and discrimination. About its many forms and guises. About bigots and bullies. About how every living thing is “different” in some way (many ways, in fact), depending on what “they” say is the “norm”. I explained that the categories and mechanisms used to commit bigotry are completely arbitrary. They bear no resemblance to the truth, beauty, and goodness of existence. Bigotry is reductive and riddled with the fear of everything except itself.

Skitter pondered seriously about the in’s and out’s, the up’s and down’s, and the sideway’s of what I had told her. She thought and thought, until her tiny thinker was exhausted. And then she said, “But I can still wear the ties, right?”

Now, that’s a nifty perspective: Just go about your life, in wonder and love and ties.

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My Spock Ear Is Cold Again

There is no chill in the world that can’t be solved by wearing a comfy sweater, bigly ear muffins, and a wood Bow Tie o’ the Day. Seriously. Don’t tell me I’m wrong about this unless you’ve tried it.

That reminds me. It’s time for another episode of Weird Scribbling In My Notebooks, in which I relay some nuggets I’ve written in my notes over the years— trying to figure out what I meant and/or why I thought they needed to be written down in the first place. These gems are from one of my 2010 notebooks.

#1 “Secret of life: Don’t get hit by a firetruck.” That pretty much explains itself, I guess. I kinda don’t know why I felt the need to record that bit o’ common sense in the first place, but ok. One really should not forget it.

#2 “My scalpel eye is cutting through to a clean, factual thing.” Sounds like I figured out something all by myself.

#3 “Am I killing this pen, or what?” I must have gotten a new pen I liked.

#4 “The Last of the Dead Shot Bubbas.” I have not one idea what that was about. I’m guessing it was a possible title for a Delta story. I dunno.

#5 “Credit on earth is bad. Credit in Heaven is good.” Let’s see: Incurring and paying bills = earthly rewards. Loving others builds up credit in your favor in Heaven= Heavenly rewards. Plus, actively loving others is just the right thing to do. CTR, all the way.

#6 “Speaking of coloring inside the lines— coloring hair is coloring ONLY the lines.” Now, that’s just seeing hair from a different perspective, pointing out that every hair is a line you can shape, cut, and/or color.

#7 “Callings don’t show up on your phone bills.” True. Usually the bishop just asks to meet with you. (Har, har, har.)

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The Reason

Nativity Tie o’ the Day takes its place around the “Day of the Dead”-style nativity scene, which Suzanne got for me when we were in Taos, NM in October.

I’ve seen nativity scene figures made out of pipe cleaners, and out of Coke cans. I’ve seen them made out of Wrigley’s gum wrappers. I’ve seen them carved into stone, and I’ve seen one sketched into the sand on a beach in Delaware. My grandma glued little toy nativity figures into milkweed pods. I could go on, but I won’t. No matter what style of nativity scene speaks to your heart, the point is this: Don’t you dare forget what this jolly, holiday hullabaloo is supposed to be about.

Peace, friends.

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Mother And Child

Dad went to the bigly coyote hunt in the sky on December 4, 2007. We laid him deep in his Delta dirt four days later, on December 8. And a week after that, on the evening of December 15, a bunch of our family donned our pajamas for a ride on the Polar Express, in Heber. My oldest sister, Betty (Mercedes, to me), and her eternal hubby, Kent, had planned the family Polar Express ride long before Dad’s death. It was to be a humongous family celebration of their 40th wedding anniversary. And so it was. Our grieving family was very much in need of something to celebrate. Train Bow Tie o’ the Day honors that healing outing.

This is one of the dearest photos I snapped on our Polar Express adventure. In the photo, Betty is clearly listening to Mom’s deep sorrow about Dad’s passing. Mom was now alone in a way not even a large, loud family could completely fill. Betty comforted Mom. And I have no doubt Mom comforted Betty. Grief is an awkward, homely thing. But it provides an opportunity for us to create beautiful responses to those who ache. In this way, sorrow can be transformed into beauty. I see such beauty here.

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Merry Christmas To Jerks

This tie is not for you, my friends. “Warm Wishes” poop emoji Tie o’ the Day is my naughty nod to the handful of people I’ve run across in my five decades who seem to have made it their lives’ missions to make jerks of themselves. I can’t testify to how they act with other people, but around me, they’re a blight. Jerks can be known by many labels— nemesis, villain, enemy, pebble in a shoe, etc.. They’re the bad guys in our lives, to varying degrees. Some are harmless and merely annoying. Some can create Category 5 hurricane havoc.

I know I’m not alone. We all have jerks in our lives. We wish we didn’t, but it’s a normal part of life. Some are even in our families. Jerks happen, I guess you could say. I know I feel blessed when jerks are absent from my days. I think the right strategy is to be polite to jerks whenever possible, but we certainly shouldn’t try to encourage them. We shouldn’t make an eternal moral judgment about their souls, but we should use our skills of discernment to keep clear boundaries between us. Jerks can be pesky, and it’s best to kindly avoid a jerk whenever it’s possible. It is also okay to try your darnedest to live a neighborly yet jerk-free life.

Tie o’ the Day isn’t meant to be mean-spirited. Its message is subtle. Unfortunately, I know the jerks who really need to get Tie’s clever message will most likely not realize it’s meant for them. That’s the thing about jerks: Jerks are jerks precisely because they are the only ones who don’t recognize they’re jerks.

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Skulls Are Just Naked Noggins

I and my beady eyes love me my Santa-hatted skull-and-crossbones Bow Tie o’ the Day!

What’s great about this season is that I can wear my warm night cap/sleep cap everywhere I go, without anyone batting an eye. Christmas is almost as good as Halloween if you want to wear out-of-the-norm clothing without garnering unwanted attention.

I mean— I would never recommend to anyone who wants to burglarize a house or steal a car around X-mas that you won’t get caught if you’re wearing a magnificent night cap, cuz you’ll blend in. But during the holiday season, you really do stand a better chance of not getting caught doing naughty things while wearing unusual clothing, if you do those naughty things amid all the Christmas lights, mistletoe mustaches, and tinsel droppings which blanket the city. And, of course, if you do them around the magnificent Christmas balls and ho’s.

Oh, dear! I think that might have come out wrong.😯

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What I Do When I Don’t Do Anything

Snowflakey, diamond-point Bow Tie o’ the Day displays just the right amount of chill for chillin’ with me and my pitiful innards today. My faithful Skitter is being my couch potato— actually, recliner potato— companion as well. She likes to chill with me no matter how I’m feeling, except when she’s not getting a walkie because of it. And I ain’t Skitter-walkin’ today. I’m eating seasonal Red Button ice cream. The flavors? Pumpkin Spice Cheesecake, and White Chocolate Cranberry. Cones up! My gut parts don’t feel worse than last evening, but they don’t really feel any better. I’m not worried, but I regret trying to accomplish my musical task at all yesterday. But I did what I did, and here’s the position I do be in.

Despite how it might sound, I’m not whining. I’m just sharing stuff that happens to me, because most of what I experience probably happens to you, too— in some way, shape, or form. We can commiserate with each other in our human-ness. If you’re lucky, you have friends and/or family who willingly dish out sympathy when you need it. And if the folks around you are lucky, you do that for them. And then you move on.

Commiserating is a very important activity. We need to be reassured we’re not alone in our stoopid pratfalls and lapses in judgement. We need to know we aren’t alone, especially when things that aren’t in our control shake-up our lives. We all need to remember we’re not perfect— even though we often hold ourselves and others to the idea of perfection. And we need to know it’s perfectly okay to not be perfect, as long as we’re working to be better.

I’m hoping I can get off the bench and into the action of my to-do list tomorrow. In fact, let’s all get out there and take the risk of making our own mistakes. We can commiserate about our mis-steps and lessons learned the hard way later. Or eat yummy ice cream, if you’re home alone trying not to move your entire torso.

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Leapin’ Toe Shoes

After Miss Tiffany cut our hairs Saturday afternoon, we took our new hairdos to Capitol Theater to act snooty at the ballet. It was opening night of Ballet West’s current offering, which consists of three short ballets. I wore a spiderweb Bow Tie o’ the Day for the occasion. Suzanne wore yet another necklace (turquoise!) I bought her in Taos with my malnourished wallet. As per usual, Candy Corn Bow Tie On A Shelf o’ the Day was a stowaway in The Saddle Purse for the evening.

Every so often, I feel like it’s my civic duty to go to the ballet. Ballet is amazing. The dancers always put up a gorgeous fight with gravity on the stage. I admire the whole production, including the orchestra most spectators can’t even see down there in the orchestra pit. Although the ballet is not something I feel the need to experience regularly, I do want to support it. Its awesomeness deserves to thrive. It’s my pleasure to buy tickets on occasion.

We need to make sure we appreciate things— especially the arts— for their incredibility, even if we aren’t “into” them. In fact, that pretty accurately explains why I do attend a ballet here and there: I go to the ballet to find wonder in its intricate strength and beauty, and I also go to the ballet to remind myself that it’s not one of my fave-rave ways to spend time. I’m a better person for attending, but it just ain’t my thing.

BTW Suzanne is very proud of the post photo in which she’s gazing at the ceiling— because it shows her inner nostril. I look just plain sinister in that same pic.