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Right Place, Right Time?

All through our thinking lives– especially during the tough moments– we sleuth around to find meaning in what we do, and in how we’ve decided to live. Pink Panther Tie o’ the Day (it’s just a squirt gun he’s packing) sometimes assists me in my sleuthing to figure out how it all fits together. I’m a puzzle piece, and so are you.

When I parked my car at the TMS clinic this morning, there was one parking place left– just for me. As I swung open my car door, I realized the cow Sloggers shoes I was wearing matched the car right next to mine. It’s not a paint color you commonly see on vehicles. In fact, I believe this is the only time I’ve seen this sea foam color on a car. [Trust me: the color is not light blue, it is sea foam.]

Anyhoo… You could call it a mere coincidence, and that’s probably all it was. It was just a car and a pair of garden shoes, sharing pigment. But what if this minuscule meeting of the colors was something more than coincidence?

That would actually help me out. You see, I’ve been feeling like my TMS treatments haven’t been accomplishing their purpose of jump starting the mood section of my brain, so I can level out my depression. I haven’t felt the change I expected to notice by this point in the series of treatments. I’ve been doubting. But what if the simple meeting of these off-beat colors is the universe trying to tell me I’m doing the right thing? Maybe it’s a sign I’m right where I’m supposed to be, doing exactly the right thing for my stoopid bipolarity. That might be stretching the idea of “signs,” but maybe it’s not. Maybe we should look less for bigly signs and answers, and look more at the small things we come across in our everyday existence. How is believing in the “messages” of small things a sacrilege?

In the final analysis, it doesn’t really matter if the universe is speaking to me, or if I’m speaking to myself– about the TMS treatments or the meaning of my life or whatever. If thinking I’ve experienced a profound encounter– whether I have or haven’t– gets me through a day, that’s a good thing. If it’s just made-up meaning but it makes me a better person, what’s wrong with that? What’s the problem if we all do that?

And do you know what? After today’s treatment ended its pounding– after I’d completely forgotten about the car/shoe thing– I felt the first twinge of peace and hope. I hadn’t even left my treatment chair yet. It was only a tiny blip of peace and hope, but it was there. I’m not making it up just to make this a better story. It happened.

Once I left the clinic building, I saw that the sea foam-colored car was gone. But I remembered it had been there. Its earlier presence meant something, if only to me. I carried my little ray of peace and hope home with me, and I’m thinking I’m one step closer to fitting myself–the puzzle piece I am– into the cosmic puzzle. How is your puzzle piece doing?

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Sealed With A Lipstick Kiss (S.W.A.L.K.)

As opposed to regular ol’ S.W.A.K.

Here’s the same bigly, jumbo-ly Bow Tie o’ the Day as this morning’s post photo offered up. In this snapshot, my hairs and I were getting ready for today’s TMS treatment. In fact, it was my TMS technician, Tenzin, who finally mentioned the lip print I had on my cheek. Doh!

When Suzanne told me goodbye as she headed out to work this morning, she told me to NOT forget to wash the goodbye lipstick off my face before I went out into the world of neuropsychiatric treatments. And what was the first thing I promptly forgot to do right before I, myself, left the house for my appointment? Yup. Off I went, feeling just slightly more loved on my left cheek than on my right cheek– but unable to come up with the reason for the strange imbalance I felt.

Vonnegut Grace Vibe was gas-less, so I gassed her up before hitting the freeway. The woman I chit-chatted with at the 7-11 gas pumps didn’t point out my cheek’s lip print . Jack, the dude who seems to work at the Centerville 7-11 24/7, didn’t clue me in about it either– even as I stood at his register gabbing with him and buying a bottle of Diet Coke. The two office assistants I spoke with in the reception area at my TMS clinic spoke nary a word about it either. Finally, Tenzin commented on it.

Looking back, none of these folks seemed fazed by what was on my face. Clearly, you don’t have to know me well to figure I must have meant to do whatever I did, fashion-wise. To know me even a little is to expect to view an odd style. I decided to wear the lip print for the rest of the day, and the people who assisted me as I got a new phone at the Apple Store didn’t bring it up once.

So far, nothing unpleasant has happened to me or my cheek. In fact, the whole lipstick faux pas is generating ideas about what else I can get away with putting on my face– causing people to notice, but not tell me about. I see it as a new challenge. And I think Suzanne needs to invest in a bunch of much brighter lipstick than she already has. Like she says, “If you’re going to wear lipstick, make sure people see it.” Amen to that.

I’m positive anyone who saw me noticed my smooch print, but I think they were jealous. I was lucky enough to have a kiss on my cheek, while their cheeks were kiss-less. I think the red remnants of the kiss I received actually made some people feel unloved. Sorry. But not.

Hey, humans, kiss your people goodbye each day as they go out to conquer the world. They are going out there for YOU, you know.

BTW   Yes, I do have another pair of paw print Sloggers just like this at home.

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Hairs Thursday #10

Paisley Bow Tie o’ the Day is aghast at the state of my hairs! As am I. Something needs to be done, people. Even a baseball cap from Albuquerque can’t hide the hideousness of my overgrown mop. The very minute May ends, these hairs go! I might just get it all shaved off so I can forget about even having hair, if only for a couple of weeks. Oh, how I wish today were June 1st. But I will buck up. I will muster my courage and keep a proverbial stiff upper lip. I will fulfill this promise of growing my hair for one year, but I will not grow it out for even one minute beyond the 12 months you voted for. I must arrange for my cutter o’ hairs to have her scissors ready at 12:01 AM on the first day o’ June. I guess it’ll be a sleepover. I can already smell the late-night pizza being delivered.

But for now, in 5 minutes I’m headed to SLC for my 13th TMS session. After it’s completed, it’ll be 13 down, 23 to go.

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Easter Is Behind Us, But

A couple of readers asked me to display an up-close look at the Easter Bow Tie o’ the Day I wore. Bow Tie is the bow toast of the Tie Room at this moment, since it has managed to be posted twice in one week.

Anyhoo, Bow Tie has a bow-tied black lab, wearing bunny ears. It’s surrounded by grass, tulips, chicks, and colored Easter eggs. It’s a mighty fine bow tie, from “my” bow tie manufacturer in Vermont– Beau Ties Limited. I don’t actually  own the company, but I do keep them in business.

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I Am Innocent

Tie o’ Last Friday Evening is the word itself: NECKTIE. I was sitting on the loveseat with all four remotes, watching LIVE PD on A & E– which is what Friday and Saturday evenings look like around here. Now, I’m the kind of girl who refuses to stay on the channel I’m watching when it goes to commercials. I channel surf my fave channels during my show’s commercial breaks. I flipped to the ID channel, and look what I found. After I first read the title of the program, I was afraid someone was murdering neckties. But then I figured out human beings were the victims of a person who used neckties as deadly weapons.

For the record, I have been to Atlanta a total of two times in my life. I never left the airport, so I could not possibly be the Atlanta Necktie Killer– although I guess I share “a curious penchant for neckties” with the killer.

No true lover of ties o’ any ilk would cause harm to anyone.

FYI   11 TMS treatments down, 25 to go.

 

 

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Three Girls At Church On Easter

Easter Bow Tie o’ the Day and I headed south to BYUville for church at Bishop Trav’s ward. I didn’t have an Easter bonnet or I certainly would have worn it. Here, Bow Tie and I are with two of the strongest, most incredible, most beautiful women I have been blessed to have in my family: Travis’ wife, Bishopette Collette; and Bishop Travis’ mom, my Sister Who Wishes To Remain Nameless. (If you value my life, not only do you NOT know my sister’s name– you didn’t see her in this photo either.)

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9 Treatments Down, 27 To Go

Snoopy and Woodstock Easter Tie o’ the Day is pleased to report that I am getting used to the weekday head-thumping I’m getting from the TMS electromagnetic gadgetry. It’s shooting into my noggin with the same intensity as it has been since I began the treatments, but I’m acclimating to it to the point that it feels more like annoying discomfort on my skull, as opposed to weird pain. That’s a good thing.

Every few-second series of zapping makes my eyes and forehead twitch a bit while it’s going on. I am NOT pulling faces in these pix. I tried to snap my face in some mid-twitches, but I didn’t catch the bilgiest spasms, cuz it’s tough to take selfies of your twitching eyes when your eyes are twitching. I’ll keep trying my best to catch my inner spaz.

Sloggers o’ the Day offer flowers and butterflies. And Sasquatch/Bigfoot wears its own Socks– from bigfootsockco.com.

[Yup, I’m still working on the me-and-TMS post I’ve promised to write. For some reason, I’m finding it difficult to talk about my current bipolar speed bumps. Heck, I post about everything on the planet, with no hesitation whatsoever. But wherever my head is at right now, I’m tongue-tied. Don’t worry. I’ll be yapping about every last detail of my mental health history– before you can say LOONY BIN.]

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Every Day Can Be A Holiday

Three nearly identical snapshots of Skitter in her Bow Tie o’ the Day is three times as good as one snapshot. Skitter was especially excited to be in the pix because today is National Piñata Day. She even had a nap in her sombrero this afternoon. After she eats dinner, we’re gonna take that colorful stick and beat the stuffin’ out of our taco piñata. I hope Skitter isn’t disappointed when tacos don’t fall out. I also hope I’m not disappointed when tacos don’t fall out.

[Yeah, I’m still working on my TMS-and-me post. I keep adding to it. It’s still coming.]

 

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Hairs Thursday #9

Mustache Bow Tie o’ the Day. Sasquatch Socks o’ the Day. And animal print Sloggers o’ the Day. The Hairs o’ the Day are doing the front-ponytail-through-a-backwards-baseball-cap thing.

[I haven’t quite finished writing the post I promised yesterday, about why TMS treatments are a good choice for me. It is coming.]