Tie o’ the Day is worn by Dad’s father, Walter Wright. Most of us grandkids called him Popo. Popo was gallant and chivalrous. He lived to love my grandma, Momo. They made a habit of sitting on their couch, holding hands. They sat on their porch every evening. They worked in their garden almost full-time, and it showed. Momo and Popo are going to kick my butt when I die, cuz when I bought their house, there was no way I alone could keep their garden beautiful.
You Can See Where I Got My Style
I was answering email, and Tie o’ the Day whispered, “Pssst! Check out O.G. Big Helen!” Mom was stylin’ in her sunglasses, for no apparent reason. She just wanted to wear them. And when she napped an hour later, she still wore them. She snored mightily in her shades. Mom simply knows how to class up wherever she finds herself roaming. I don’t try to figure out where her mind takes her these days. I just try to go along, keep her safe, and enjoy the ride.
The House Gets Quiet, With Mom Here
Bow Tie o’ the Day is a true butterfly style bow tie. I have only a couple of these. But, of course, I’ll rectify that little hole in my collection. I declared a Pajama Day, in honor of Mom, who gets out of her nightie and duster (her uniform) only to go to Red Lobster. But she doesn’t really do that anymore. Here, she’s sleeping away the morning. She still has the energy to laugh at my constant antics. But she tells her own stories less often. 😢
Scribble, Scribble, Scribble
Bow Ties o’ the Day decorate this book which was crafted just for me, for my  birthday. One of Suzanne’s Champagne Garden Club Gals, Jenny Williams, created this dandy piece of coolness for me to fill with drafts of my writing that might one day grow up into real poetry. Most good writing really does begin as bad, clunky, dead-end gibberish. This is a blank book for my nonsensical lines o’ blah, blah, blah. 🤓 Mom’s a blob in the background of this photo. She’s wrangling Skitter. ðŸ¤
No One Will Recognize Me Without My Big Cup
Bow Ties o’ the Day are giving a dark, 21-bow tie salute to my 100 ounce, tie-decorated mini keg. It’s headed to the recycling can, and it’s breaking my heart. Also, its demise has got all the neckwear discombobulated. My poor container for Diet Coke has a cracked straw, a cracked lid, and cracked innards. No catastrophe destroyed it. My mini keg– my constant companion, my sippy cup– simply wore out. I hate when that happens. I gotta search for a new tie-d barrel. AND MOM’S HERE!
Even I Think I Look Happy In This Picture. That’s Weird.
It doesn’t matter to me that this photo is a bigly blur. To me, it’s a blur of sheer affection. Bow Tie o’ the Day is blurred too, but it’s properly blinged for driving to fetch Mom. Skitter’s driving with me, in her cushy car bed. Mom likes animals, but she’s never been what you might call “fond of” or close with our pets. However, she adores Skitter. Skitter is the only critter I’ve ever seen her pet. And Skitter sleeps on Mom’s feet during our sleepovers.
The Tie Makes The Woman. As Does The Hat.
I wanted to accentuate beauteous Tie o’ the Day by showcasing it against a solid-color shirt. But Tie felt lonely without clash, so I paired it with a camo-esque shirt. The ensuing clash made me feel less a stranger in this world, as well. I don’t match. I don’t care that I don’t match. I don’t mind when other people match. Don’t try to make me match. I was born to be singularly effervescent and vocal. Speaking of those qualities… tomorrow, Mom’s coming for many sleepovers. 😺 😃
To Have Mom’s Name Is A Bigly Responsibility
Bow Tie o’ the Day gets my truck! In return, Hombre gets spiffied! When Mom quit driving, her car became Gary’s– cuz his decades-old Babe Magnet is on its last tires, almost to the point of unfixable-ness. And Gary MUST drive a hot car. He put a bunch o’ money into doctoring up Mom’s, and it is now born again– on deck to become the next Babe Magnet. I asked my family, and Mom and my siblings agreed it was natural that I’d inherit Mom’s license plates. 😃
Get Your Wallet Away From My Money Tie!
I had a massive grocery list, so this Tie o’ the Day shopped with me– in case my debit card couldn’t cover the purchase total. A shopper asked if I would share Tie’s bucks. Cufflinks o’ the Day depict a 5-speed gear shift. Hombre’s a manual, and shifting makes me feel hot-rod-y. Hombre struggles on wet, wintry roads, even with tube sand in the back. I’m ecstatic that this mild winter allows me to drive it more often. I hope the weather stays un-wintry. Knock on clouds. ✊ 🚘 🚚 🌤
What Up Wit Dat?
Diamond-point Bow Tie o’ the Day persuaded me to show my troll hair. All that blood rushing to my head made me light-headed. To recover, I had to sit on my butt and watch the I.D. channel for 3 straight hours. Nobody has to twist my arm to watch I.D.. I’m mesmerized by that crime-y channel and its “monotonous murder,” which is what we call it. I have bigly fits when I watch an entire show that ends with no solution to the crime. Waste o’ my time! Grrrrrrrr!!! 😠 😡










