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I Accomplished A Feat Without Even Trying

For the last few years, I have subscribed to a bow-tie-of-the-month club. I actually subscribe to two monthly bow tie clubs, from one single company, Bow SelecTie. One of the monthly subscriptions is for a category called “Creative Bow Ties,” which sends clever bow ties like my “Skittles” and “M & M” bow ties you’ve probably seen me wear.

The other category I subscribe to is “Wood Bow Ties.” Bow SelecTie grabs a monthly payment out of my bank account, and then two tiny boxes, each containing one bow tie, get delivered to my mailbox each month. The company chooses what they send, so I am always surprised with what I get. It’s like I get Christmas presents twice per month. In all the years I’ve subscribed, I’ve never received duplicates of what they’ve already sent. Except… maybe.

The third of these three Bow Ties o’ the Day I’m wearing in my selfie showed up in my mailbox yesterday and caused me to say, HALT. I love all three, but I have enough of this breed. Technically, they are not the same bow tie. The different woods are assembled in different combinations into the same design. They all shine with bow tie-ness.

But I think the fact that these have been delivered to me three months in a row is a hint I should cancel my wood bow ties subscription. The third one showing up seemed like a sign, and you know how I like to find signs everywhere.

This really was a sign though. I know it for a fact because I contacted the company, at which time I was informed they are running out of different wood bow ties to send me. If I stay enrolled in the wood bow tie club, all Bow SelecTie will be able to send me are the same wood bow ties I already have, but with minor wood and color differences and arrangements. See, it truly was a sign for me to cancel my subscription. And so I did.

But– and for this accomplishment I believe I deserve to tote my 1980 Miss Liberty First Attendant trophy around the house again for a few days– I am the only subscriber in the history of Bow SelecTie’s wood-bow-tie-of-the-month-club who has exhausted the company’s wood bow tie styles supply. I AM THE CHAMPION! Feel free to clap now.

BTW Have no fear! I have discovered there are a couple of other companies out there in Consumerland which offer wood-bow-tie-o-the-month-club services, so I’ll survive.

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Oh, What A Relief It Is

I’ve been looking at the statistics from the TIE O’ THE DAY website, which I started over two years ago. I can see how many site subscribers I have, and I can see when and how many folks have visited which post. I can see comments and LIKE’s for each post. And when the posts fly over to Facebook, everybody can see those comments and LIKE’s. Anyhoo… I wanted to see which post photos caught readers’ eyes, and which were almost completely ignored.

Here is a Bow Tie o’ the Day from May 2017. It is a snapshot which was almost completely shunned by readers when I first posted it. So I’m forcing it on you again.

I understand why city folks might not get it, but I can’t believe there are “remote location” travelers who don’t understand. Unless you carry your own port-a-potty with you when you drive through the hinterlands, sometimes you gotta make a “relief” stop. Going with Dad to work bee yards, and accompanying him on hunts, taught me to never go anywhere remote without two items stocked in your vehicle: matches and toilet paper. I admonish y’all to carry the same two things.

Anyhoo… Here’s how I got the idea for this photo: In the summer of ’17, we were selling the Delta house– which we had years before named The Beach House. (If you’re going to have a second home, it should be in the mountains or at the beach.) I was making two and sometimes three trips to and from Delta almost every week, hauling our possessions to the Centerville abode.

One of the unofficial commandments I have given myself is I SHALT NOT DRIVE ON I-15! Unless I absolutely have to. People drive on I-15 as if they are ants and someone just sprayed RAID. I choose to not bring such near-death possibilities into my driving life, therefore, since 2000, I drive to/from Delta “the Tooele way.” I honestly have never paid attention to the road number I’m driving.

On the 103-mile drive between Tooele and Delta, you will find Stockton (1 toilet), Vernon (1 toilet), an open-part-of-the-year rest stop (1 pit toilet), and Lynndyl (no toilet). Somewhere along that 103-mile drive, I always have to “go”, and unfortunately, it is often not when I’m near one of the few potty rooms. You can see why a roll of toilet paper– oh, excuse me while I write in “lady-like”– “bath tissue” is a necessary supply.

Well, on one of these moving trips from Delta, Bow Tie o’ the Day sez, “I gotta pee.” To which, I said, “I told you to go before we left. Can’t you wait until we get to the rest stop?” And Bow Tie o’ the Day started to whine, “Pit toilets scare me. I can’t pee in a pit toilet. I’ll fall in! A monster will grab my butt!” I really just wanted Bow Tie to wait until I needed to pee too, so we’d only have to stop and find a bigly bush once. We ended up stopping twice for “relief” that trip. I did not take a selfie when it was my turn. You’re welcome.

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I Declare A Reading Day

I’m just sittin’ around this afternoon with my round-style, wood glasses Bow Tie o’ the Day. When I can’t find my reading glasses, these John Lennon-esque round-frame glasses come to the rescue.

As you can probably see behind me, them’s books on them thar stairs. We ran out of shelves and space for shelves for our books a long time ago, so we improvise. This is one of my contributions to what we call around here “decorating with books.” I decided the stairs looked plain, so I piled up books on each step. I left plenty of room for us to safely travel up and down the stairs.

One of the great things about the stair library is it’s one of the first things you see as you walk in the front door. I have heard many a delighted, curious gasp from our visitors when they see it for the first time. So far, almost everyone has remarked on its cool-osity.

One fussbudget fuddy, however, showed enormous distaste and disgust and disapproval and dislike and dismay and dis- and dis-….. At least that ill-tempered person did not say anything out loud about my speshul book creation. I could just sense the disgruntlement they felt. I must be honest, though, and admit I have not asked that fool back for another visit. I mean– you have a right to your opinion about anything in my house, and elsewhere. But books can’t ever look unappetizing to the intellectual palate. They can’t look incorrect. It is existentially impossible for books to be in the wrong place. Where there is a book, there is a library from Heaven.

The bigly thing that worries me about our stair bookshelf decor is that when I get too old and rickety to walk up and down the stairs, and we have to get a stair lift chair, we’ll probably have to move the literary tomes to another location. I can handle change, but the books seem so at home in their new community. They act as if they’re in their long-lost homeland. I hate to displace them.

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Better Than TV

School’s out, but Bow Tie o’ the Day and I took a drive out to Syracuse High School this morning. Suzanne was the bigly deal speaker at a professional training day, held at SHS. She got the gig at the last minute, and she’s been working non-stop on her presentation for the last week. I asked her if I could attend her presentation. I’ve never watched her spread her education wisdom to other education professionals, but it has always been on my Bucket List. She let me know my butt was welcome to sit in her audience.

Suzanne is not good at everything, although I can’t really think of anything she can’t do. Her presentation this morning, called “Find Your Passion,” was brilliant, and her speaking performance on the stage was captivating. She is masterful at what she does. I learned plenty. The rest of the audience gained new insights too.

Suzanne moved from being a superb teacher at Clearfield High School to working for the last decade as a district administrator. Part of her job is teaching other educators, but she misses teaching kids. Suzanne makes a huge impact where she is, but I feel kinda bad that high school students are deprived of her teaching. Just sayin’.

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A Good Day Is Not Hard To Find

Bow Tie o’the Day and I went grocery shopping this afternoon. It became imperative we get over to DICK’S when I ran out of ice cream. I bought some fruit and bread too, but I really made the trip for the purpose of hauling home ice cream. Ice cream can redeem even the worst of days. Don’t argue with me about it. You know I speak the truth.

If you’re a regular TIE O’ THE DAY reader, you know Ice Cream/Popsicles is my fave food group, followed closely by the Sugary Dry Breakfast Cereals food group. Sometimes, I eat ice cream for all three meals. And yes, when I’m not eating meals of ice cream, I’m usually eating meals of sugary dry cereal.

Anyhoo… here are a couple of Ice Creams o’ the Day I highly recommend. TILLAMOOK Blood Orange Cream, and DREYER’S Pumpkin Pie. I am promiscuous when it comes to ice cream brands which use good ingredients. I flit from one finer brand to another, depending on what’s on sale that week, and on what flavors strike me as tasty at any given time.

MEADOW GOLD “ice cream” is not allowed in my freezer. If you think that makes me a snob, I don’t care: I will rest easily knowing my ice cream tastes better than your ice cream. But I’m happy to share bigly scoops of my yummy ice creams with y’all. I might be snooty about ice cream, but I’m not selfish with it.

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Done, Done, Done

Wood, magnetic Bow Tie o’ the Day and I just walked in the house after my last TMS treatment. I’m going to make a t-shirt which will say, “I had a course of 36 Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation treatments, and all I got was this stoopid beanie.” A “map” of my brain had to be drawn on it. Also, the technician had to write on it the specifications of the electromagnetic zaps my personal brain was supposed to endure during each session.

The reason I’m still wearing my treatment beanie is cuz of Suzanne and my new hairs cut. We both hated my raggedy hairs by the time I got them chopped off. Everybody did. I didn’t mind her hatred towards my hairdon’t. I was equally appalled whenever I looked at it. My newly cut hairs are more of a shaping trim– except for the back hairs which have been mowed to the length of a blade of grass on a perfectly manicured golf green. The entire cut is an improvement beyond measure.

However, the cut has not passed the Suzanne test. I know this because she hasn’t made one comment about it. She’s been pestering me for months to just get the damn mop cut, or at least trimmed. When I finally let Miss Tiffany cut it, what do I hear Suzanne say about it? Nothing. Nada. I hear crickets. She did actually try to get rid of my sideburns by moving them behind my ear. I put them back where Miss Tiffany put them. And still, no words from Suzanne. Just the sound of crickets and nothingness.

This is a thing I have learned over the years about Suzanne’s mode of operation: no comment, no answer, no response to a text, a symphony of crickets– all of these silences mean Suzanne doesn’t want to answer my questions. She would rather not say what she thinks. I have become a pro at deciphering her non-responses. I get it right 98 percent of the time. She might as well just say it– the good, the bad, the ugly– cuz her non-answers tell me the answers anyway.

FYI I’ll give you the rundown about my TMS experience and any results in a coming post.

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Classical Cuts Follow Us

As I was uploading my hairs pix for this morning’s post, something kept nagging at me. Suddenly, I remembered: My 1st Grade sideburns. They resemble my new ones, although they were probably pretty even with each other in length. Everything old is new again, and I figure I’m just a sideburn gal. Sideburns will find me. (That thing in my hair is some unidentifiable goober that globbed onto the picture decades ago. Not a hairs accessory.) Note: Check out the unibrow I’m working on. That takes skill!

Mom made the dress I’m wearing in the pic, but I don’t remember any specifics about it. I can pretty much guarantee the dress has pockets though. Mom had to make dresses for me cuz I had an important reason I wouldn’t wear store-bought dresses: I liked pockets! Most girls’ and women’s store-bought dresses don’t have pockets, and I’m writing about a time when girls couldn’t wear pants to school. It was all dresses, my friends. I was in HELL! Mom deserves an award for sewing me dresses with pockets. Where the heck is a little girl supposed to put the Lemonheads she wants to eat after school in Primary? I had to have a place to carry my Chapstick, pencil, treat money, cereal prizes, gum, that trilobite I found, etc. A girl has important pocket belongings.

Don’t talk to me about how a purse would’ve come in handy. As a 1st Grader, a girl should not have to carry and be in charge of a purse. Don’t talk to me about a mini backpack. They weren’t invented yet.

You certainly didn’t want to play at recess while holding your treasures in your hands. If you were a Delta Elementary school girl back in the day, you had to leave your “pocket” possessions in your desk. This meant there was a bigly possibility that if you had a really groovy treasure, it would be stolen by the time you got back to your desk after lunch or recess. I needed pockets!!!!

All I wanted was to wear my Levi’s everywhere. I do it now and the sky hasn’t fallen. As a kid, I wore them every minute I wasn’t in school for church. What was the harm adults were afraid jeans/pants would cause to girls? Were the adults afraid if we wore pants our knees would be safe from bloody sidewalk rash if we fell while roller skating at recess? Were the adults afraid if we girls wore Levi’s no one would be able to see our underwear while we hung on the monkey bars? Yup, Levi’s could have prevented those things. Levi’s were evil, however. But only for girls somehow.

Somewhere around 4th Grade, girls were finally allowed to wear “nice pants” to school. As I recall, “nice pants” mostly translated into “polyester pants.” Levi’s were still on the Axis of Evil o’ Girl School Clothes, but I was excited to buy nice pants from stores, for school. It was one step closer to legalizing Levi’s for girls. However, it had not occurred to me that girls’ store-bought nice pants didn’t have pockets in them either. Poor me. Poor Mom. My need for pockets in my clothing led her to a decade of sewing me dresses, pant suits, pants, and even a pair of golf knickers with a matching vest– all with pockets, of course. Sewing is a skill Mom has never enjoyed, but she was not about to make me go through life pocketless, if a pocket is what I needed. Who here is spoiled? I am.

I appreciate Mom’s efforts to always help me indulge my various whims. I’ve always loved Mom more than I’ve ever loved my pockets. And I truly love pockets. But Mom wins.

BTW I wish I had owned wood filigree Bow Tie o’ the Day when this photo was snapped in 1st Grade. Bow Tie is a winner with the dress fabric, as well as the sideburns.

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But We’re Not Completely Done With My Hairs Journey

Kids’ Tie o’ the Day drove over to Miss Tiffany’s hairs chair with me last evening, and I’m quite pleased with what Miss Tiffany did. Bikini Bow Tie o’ the Day is hanging with me today as I show off my new cut.

I told Miss Tiffany she could cut my hairs any way she wanted, but she would have to keep in mind two things: 1. When we’re done with my hairs theme, I’m gonna want my drastic asymmetrical style back– complete with half-head shave. That’s where I want my hairs to end up. 2. I want her to give me a couple of different cuts over the next few weeks, BEFORE we get to my usual style. That way, I can try out some new variations on a more symmetrical theme. Who knows?! Maybe I’ll find something I like better than my standard ‘do.

Miss Tiffany followed my requests, and here I am with my temporary, new ‘do. This is me right after I woke up this morning. In these photos, I’m exaggerating my asymmetrical sideburns. My hair will look better in coming photos. I didn’t know asymmetrical sideburns are an actual hairstyle-approved thing, but Miss Tiffany says they are “hot.” I believe her.

I know you’re thinking my left sideburn looks like when I was Hugh Jackman from X-MEN, on a Hairs Thursday. I think that too, but I love them.

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A Hairsy Disappointment: They Still Ain’t Cut

Sometimes I become impatient with being patient, to the point that I become impatient with myself for being impatient. Even with a kids’ Tie o’ the Day to pal around with, my patience with my head fur has worn deli-sliced thin.

I trust only Miss Tiffany with my hairs, but I am not pleased that Great Clips does not take appointments. On Saturday, June 1st, I called Great Clips to find out if Miss Tiffany was working. She was not, and the manager told me she’d be working today from 2 to 9. This afternoon, I put on my glee and made sure my butt was sitting in the Great Clips reception area by 1:50 PM. NO MISS TIFFANY! Alas, her schedule had been changed. She worked from 9-1 today, and then she works from 6-9 this evening. I coulda been sittin’ in that hairs chair at 9 this morning, if I had been able to read Great Clip’s mind. Frustrating, I tell you!

I was already on an impatience overload. I am soooo hankering to wear some head hairs that make sense. It was all I could do to survive from Saturday until this afternoon. It’s killing me. After months of being ready for the hairs to be cut, you’d think a couple of days more– and then a few more hours– wouldn’t matter. It does. It’s driving me nuts, which means I’m driving myself nuts. It’s not Miss Tiffany who’s making me impatient. I am choosing to drive myself batty over a minor thing.

We are an impatient species, and I don’t know why. There is so much for our brains to appreciate and take stalk of right where we are– no matter where we find ourselves. But no, we gotta have something more, something different, something bigly-er than whoever it is we think we’re in competition with. Life can be fun, but it is not a game. There is no “winning.” Getting there first (wherever “there” is) is not the point. We should spend less time worrying about “winning” and more time helping others get where they’re headed.

I deeply believe we are here to be happy. And I also believe our happiness is individual to us. Mine doesn’t look like yours. In fact, it doesn’t look exactly like anyone else’s. You’re unique, so your happiness will be unique to you. I also believe our happiness is our own responsibility. You’ll get what you create. So you better be careful exactly what it is you’re creating for yourself.

HINT: Never, ever hide your “happy.” Share your happy, even with those who don’t understand it. Happy longs to be shared, spread, and even spilled. Sharing is the finest way to get your own happy to grow.

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Today Is The Big, Fat, Hairsy Day

Wood Tie o’ the Day joins me in celebration of a speshul, speshul, speshul day. It is currently 10:06 AM, and Miss Tiffany will be holding her scissors at her work station at Great Clips at 2 PM. I hope I’m first in line. Even my hairs are counting down the minutes. The hairs that will be chopped off are actually looking forward to laying down their hairsy lives for the greater good of all the hairs which will remain, and for all of us who have witnessed my skid row head fur grow for the past twelve months.

Suzanne is at work with her fingers crossed that I will truly go get the hairs gone and/or shaped up for public viewing. Skitter is vibrating out of sheer excitement at the prospect of once again seeing my head with “real” hairs. She’s not just vibrating because it’s her normal mode. Today, we’re all about the hairs.

TMS treatment #35 down, 1 to go.