Bow Tie o’ the Day sports a simple message of “Merry Christmas.” The 6 Ties o’ the Day are a bit more divided in their expressions about the holiday season. I am a “Merry Christmas” sort, which is probably obvious by my expansive X-mas neckwear collection, but I am also a Grinch-lovin,’ “Bah Humbug” sort of gal when I’m particularly ironic. Especially around Christmas, I must admit I have an even lower-than-usual tolerance for people acting hateful and petty to each other. That kind of behavior really roils the true, thin slice o’ humbug in my soul, in any season. I hate when that happens. In this annual season of giving and striving for peace, I often worry less about the need to—as the saying goes—”put Christ back in Christmas,” and more about the need to put Christ back in Christians. Kindness changes the weather of every room it’s in. Let us be the good weather, folks. End of sermon.
Holiday Tie Tally: 190 Neckties. 74 Bow Ties.
Holiday Face Mask Tally still stands at 9, cuz I’ve worn this one before.
Peace is kindness at rest. May you kind folks always have plenty of it. Jolly Christmas tidings to y’all, from TIE O’ THE DAY and the inhabitants of The Tie Room!
Bow Tie o’ the Day displays Billy Bob Thornton from BAD SANTA. Santa-hatted kitty Tie o’ the Day harks from the movie too. Santa and Rudolph are listening to some rap tunes and getting their boogie on. On the other side of our Tie o’ the Day showcase, we’ve got snowflakes, candy canes, and candy cane-colored stripes. Finally, straight down the middle, is our reminder Tie o’ the Day from the Gangsta Wrappin’ Rudolph to get those gifts wrapped ASAP. Time is running out to set out the haul securely under the tree. (Make sure you see the gold $-sign bling on Gangsta Wrapper Rudolph’s neck. FYI I get a thrill out of tiny details.)
Folks, if you’re partaking of alcoholic beverages while celebrating tonight, please use a designated driver on your travels. Don’t forget your mittens and your masks, people. Be safe in your merriness! 🎄
FYI I’ll be posting a quick TIE O’ THE DAY message at midnight tonight, so if you’re awake and want to see more holiday ties before morning, give it a look-see.
I wore this holiday face mask a few weeks ago, so it has already been counted in my tally. But I can add the electrifying Clark Griswold Tie o’ the Day and the two CHRISTMAS VACATION-themed Bow Ties o’ the Day to my tally. My “ugly Christmas vest” gives me the best of both shirt-worlds: I get to wear an obnoxious Christmas vest which is really just a long-sleeved t-shirt. I can get my gleeful, gaudy fashion out there for all of you to see, while safely wearing a comfortable t-shirt atrocity I personally don’t have to injure my eyes looking at.
CHRISTMAS VACATION is one of my go-to X-mas movies, as it likely is one of your faves. I owned it on VHS. I owned it on DVD. I now own it in my iCloud. I used to watch it from time to time throughout the year, whenever I felt the urge. I have since decided to reserve it for watching only around Christmas, and only once per the season. A single yearly viewing makes it an annual no-calorie treat. (I do the same with A CHRISTMAS STORY.) I have memorized every line of the movie, so I can run a scene in my head any time I might need a quick guffaw to keep my funny bone in knee-slappin’ shape. Hey, I am fully aware that a lot of y’all also have the movie memorized. It is a modern-day classic, for sure. However, I beg of y’all, please don’t leave the older, classic Christmas films off your holiday viewing list. If you don’t already have some black-and-white X-mas movies set to play, add a few. You won’t regret it. Your kids and grandkids might wonder what’s wrong with you, but they’ll thank you later.
Check out my flannel Face Mask o’ the Day. It is toasty. Bow Ties o’ the Day are decked in Christmas trees and Christmas icons. Ties o’ the Day present holiday characters taking selfies. Here’s my advice for anyone who takes a lot of selfies (myself included): Never let your selfie-taking get in the way of you actually experiencing your adventures. If taking the selfie gets to be more important to you than being a participant in the moment you are experiencing, you are not even living a life. Step back, and just notice your surroundings. Look at the people who are around you. Put down the phone, and step into the frame of your own existence. Somebody else will take a picture—or maybe they won’t. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter if you have photographic proof. You’re alive. Act like it.
Check out my new t-shirt. In case you haven’t already guessed, the cookie’s own Bow Tie o’ the Day was the ultimate selling point. (No, I won’t be counting it in my Holiday Tie Tally though.) I’m being matchy with my own gingerbread man Bow Tie o’ the Day.
Although Mom’s excellent goodies were wide-ranging, I don’t recall Mom ever making gingerbread cookies when I was a kid. I don’t recall ever in my life making a gingerbread house of any kind. And I must admit that on the few occasions when I have sampled gingerbread cookies made by other people, I have not found them to be yummy. Smell tasty? Yes. Look cute? Sometimes. Scrumptious? Never. When I was in my late teens, Mom did start to make a triumphant, chewy gingersnap cookie rolled in sugar. Her gingersnaps did not taste anything like what I have known as gingerbread, thank the heavens.
When I was in Graduate School at the University of Utah in the late-80’s, a box full of Mom’s homemade cookies would occasionally show up in my mailbox. Mom always sent far more cookies than I could safely consume on my own, so I often took them to share with my classes. Once, I took a box of Mom’s homemade gingersnaps to a poetry workshop to share with my colleagues and my professor. After the initial ravenous chewing had calmed down in the classroom, one colleague said to me, “Your mother must really love you.” And another swiftly chimed in, “I wish my mother loved me as much as your mom loves you.” It was meant to be funny, I know, and it was. But I had also already begun to recognize that not all parents actively do things to demonstrate their love for their kids as freely as mine always did. I knew my parents thought of me, always—even when I lived 2,000 miles away from their house in Delta, Utah.
I was born into a tribe of huggers and kissers. And in our family, the three magic words of “I love you” were (and still are) spoken regularly among my parents and siblings, as easily as breathing. As I grew up and ventured hither and yon into the bigly world, I very quickly realized what a rare blessing that kind of familial affection and stability truly is. For being born into this solid gift, I give my thanks.
Constitution Face Mask o’ the Day and starry, stripey Bow Tie o’ the Day will be watching election results with me throughout the evening, because Suzanne is working late—and I cannot watch scary things when I’m alone.🤡 (Skitter is too scared to watch at all.)
One of my three minors in college at Weber State was Political Science. I’ve always been drawn to understanding how government works, and how it can work better for citizens. I briefly toyed with the idea of becoming a political speechwriter back when I was a young whippersnapper. But, even waaaay back then, I knew that when bigly money is involved, respectable politicians are few-and-far-between, and I did not want to take the chance of having to spend my time writing lofty, lying speeches for slickster candidates to spew forth into a microphone. Nope. Political speechwriting wasn’t my true calling. Instead, I was called to do something else. I still don’t know exactly what that “something else” is yet. The older I get, the less I know. Knowing that I know less—that’s called wisdom. And it’s my wisdom that made sure I voted in the 2020 General Election long before any and all voting deadlines.
See ya on the flip-side of the bigly VOTE, my pals!
If ever a day requires a cape, Election Day is surely such a day. As Americans, we have the amazing gift of being able to vote for what we want our future to look like. In my opinion, too many eligible voters don’t utilize this mighty little superpower. Voting is a right, and every right carries with it a bigly thing called responsibility. It is my personal pet peeve that people are so quick to yap about others encroaching on their rights, but then conveniently ignore their own responsibilities for being knowledgeable and civil.
If you’ve already voted, you have my thanks. If you haven’t already voted, please do. It’s your right as an American citizen. It is also your responsibility as an American citizen. If you feel like your vote doesn’t count, you’re only right about that if you don’t vote. See how that works? If you vote, your vote is counted; therefore, you count. You’re a part of shaping this country’s future. Sounds cheesy, I know, but I’m not wrong. Don’t stand on your country’s sidelines. You aren’t being asked to die for your country today. You’re simply being asked to use a dark pen to fill-in some bubbles on a sheet of paper.
Finally, in the midst of this election’s overly contentious, uncivil, hullabaloo, please remember to be kind to those who don’t cast their votes for your candidates. Please don’t belittle, bully, or injure another citizen in an attempt to make them vote differently than their own conscience demands. And don’t try to keep others from casting their votes. If you see any of those things happening, it is your duty as an American citizen to step in and stop it. All of that behavior is childish, unnecessary, and just plain bad manners. And I cannot believe that in 2020, some of my beloved country’s grownups still have to be reminded to be nice and play fair with their citizen-neighbors.
Tie o’ the Day and I will wear anything (almost) at any time (almost). It’s sort of my job to do so. The clashier, the better. The more you-can’t-look-away-even-though-it-kinda-freaks-out-your-eyes, the better. I know I’m dressed like my true self if my attire incites at least one of two things: a chuckle, and/or a conversation—even if the conversation is with yourself. I am ecstatic when both goals are met in a tblog post, simultaneously. That’s why I make the bigly bucks, folks. I am really just a very uncomplicated, complicated chick with a brimming Tie Room.
This cartoon showed up in my Facebook messages yesterday, along with a brief note from Peggy’s daughter, Julie. (For anyone who doesn’t already know, Peggy was Mom’s best friend for over 60 years, until Peggy passed away. They each cooked and cooked. And they were proud of their bewitching ways.) Julie wrote that she had come across this a few weeks ago, and even made a card out of it to send to Mom. The cartoon fits them to a “T.” I messaged back my thanks to Julie for thinking to make it into a card and send it to Mom—as well as letting me in on it. No sooner had I hit the return key to send the message than I realized “Helen” and “Peggy” were in Mom’s handwriting. It was also a NEW YORKER magazine cartoon. It dawned on me this thing started out with me finding it in a magazine years ago! I was beginning to recall a general sense of how this came full circle.
Here’s my memory’s best theory: I saw the cartoon in THE NEW YORKER magazine and—recognizing my two favorite classy witches, Mom and Peggy—tore it out or copied it, then handed it to Mom. I have no doubt that when I gave it to her, I said something snarky like, “Mom, here’s a picture of you and Peggy in the news again, wreaking havoc.” Of course, Mom must have then passed it on to Peggy (because I don’t remember doing it), but not before making it funnier by clearly identifying who’s who, by writing both of their names on it for all the world to see. Mom and Peggy, together, were The Bobbsey Twins. I was merely an occasional third wheel in the drinking-Pepsi-and-driving movie of their lives.
You know how I am about coincidences, signs, and such. As I’ve said before, folks, we’re all connected. Everything is connected. What we do will come back to us. We will likely one day need aid from the very people we have hurt or ignored. That, too, will come back to torment us, if only in our own memories.
This cartoon is just a simple, light-hearted drawing that found its image all the way back to me, causing me to think of Mom and Peggy with a full and grateful joy. I’m glad it was a good thing that found it’s way back in my direction. Imagine if it had been a mean-spirited thing I had said or done to them that ricocheted back to me—with Peggy three-years-gone now, and Mom now quarantined in her room at the care center. I am happy to report that as far as I can recall, I have no regrets about my dealings with either of the two giant witches who so shaped my sensibilities and taught me to sharpen my broomstick when necessary. Besides, I have a feeling that if I’d ever gotten out of line with either of those dames, I would have gotten my what-goes-around-comes-around karma back from both of them right then and there.
FYI I did a little research about the cartoon this afternoon, and found that it was drawn by Sam Gross, and published in the June 23, 2014 issue of THE NEW YORKER. I had a subscription to the magazine then, as I do now. And it is worth every penny the subscription has cost me over the decades, just to have Julie send this to me yesterday.
