As regular TIE O’ THE DAY readers probably already know, except for the bee tattoo in honor of my dad, all my tats are words. I’ve been feeling the need for a couple of new permanent words on my skin, and today was the day my plan came to fruition. Thanks to my new tattoo guy, Cameron, at Punctured Piercing and Tattoo, in Bountiful. Now, when we can all freely give real hugs again, I will be wrapping whoever I hug in the literal “kindness” and “empathy” of my arms. Go forth and continue to commit genuine niceness, folks!
It’s just another TIE O’ THE DAY day in the neighborhood. Personally, I can’t wait to see what trouble I can get into. Whatever it is, I’m dressed to create it.👑🕶✏️
So along comes the afternoon, and I realized I hadn’t had breakfast or lunch yet. Bow Tie o’ the Day and I were famished. My tummy had a hankering for a sammich—a BLT sammich, to be precise. I cooked my bacon and rounded up my bread and mayo. Lo and behold, I discovered we were out of both lettuce and tomatoes. I did not want to run to the store to buy just lettuce and a tomatoes. I was left in a hangry quandary. What to do? (I have such bigly problems, eh?) I oh-so grudgingly decided to go ahead with my original eatin’ plan, as best I could. Sometimes we just have to muddle through and make do with what we have, folks. Oh, I struggled to envision a lettuce-free, tomato-free BLT! Would I be able to even gag down a mere B sammich? Well, somehow, I finally did manage to eat my B sammich. I wasn’t completely sure how yummy it was, so I made and ate a second one just to be sure of my own opinion. I think I liked it, but I better make myself a third B sammich for dinner tonight—to settle the matter, once and for all.🥓🍞😉
I had an early appointment and didn’t have time for even a quick shower this morning, so I grabbed my dry shampoo to swiftly clean my hairs before I left the house. 😜
I got my first COVID-19 shot this morning. I had planned to take Skitter with me to keep me company in the car while I endured a reputed long wait in line to receive the first of my two vaccinations. However, as I was gathering my books and music to leave for my appointment, I asked, “Skitter, do you wanna go on an errand with me?” She barely raised an eyelid. She was clearly content to remain in her sleeping-in mode. How could I possibly drag her out of her cozy slumber? So I took this photo of her ignoring me, and I headed out the front door.
I am here to tell you that the Davis County Health Department has really got their “sh*t” together—I mean their “shot.” Following the new vaccination guidelines, I was able to get my shot about a month before they originally anticipated folks in my age-group would even be able to sign up. I emailed them yesterday, and 5 minutes later, I had an appointment for today. I arrived for my appointment about 10 minutes before my scheduled time. I followed the car directly ahead of me through the twisty, busy parking lot, all the way into a stall inside the Legacy Center building. There, I turned off my car and sat for a total of 4 minutes, while I answered a few questions, got a few warnings about possible obscure side effects, and ultimately got stabbed with my shot. I then started my car again, cranked up the Amanda Shires cd I was listening to, and drove out of the building. Before I knew it, I was done with Part 1 of my entire pandemic vaccination adventure—a couple of minutes before my actual scheduled appointment time.
The front-line folks running the vaccination clinic were efficient, willing to answer questions, and even appreciative of my chatty humor. One guy—the nurse who shot my arm—liked my wood Bow Tie o’ the Day so much that I tried to give it to him. He told me that in a different context, he would have gladly received Bow Tie as the simple gift of appreciation I meant it to be, but since he was there as a professional nurse, he could not accept it. I completely understood. Kudos to people with principles, who aren’t shy about living by them.
BTW Since I have a history of instances of severe allergic reactions to a couple of medications and bee stings (requiring me to carry an EpiPen), my shot nurse requested that I wait in my car in the Legacy Center parking lot for at least 30 minutes before I headed home, just in case I were to have an adverse reaction to the vaccine. He suggested I park as near to the ambulance in the parking lot as I could—just in case. In my experience, I have found that no matter what the job is, those people who think of the “just in case” scenarios for others end up becoming the best at whatever they do.
We have assembled a closet full of puzzles during this pandemic year. This puzzle is the pandemic-est of them all. The face masks were deceptively difficult to put together correctly.
My dad had this same haircut for all the years I knew him, and he always had a red or blue hanky in the back pocket of his striped bib overalls. He did not, however, make a point of wearing groovy bow ties. His usual idea of neckwear was wearing a wood coyote call around his neck. I miss the old guy.
It looks like Spring outside today, but the temperature tells the truth: It’s just above freezing on this deceptively bright and blue-sky morning. Still, the hint at the changing o’ the seasons prompted my choice of neckwear and face wear. Face Mask o’ the Day is full of colorful ladybugs, and wood Bow Tie o’ the Day is a genteel butterfly.
Don’t think that just because I was adrift in Bipolar-land and/or Cranky Hanky Panky-ville on the actual dates that I didn’t dress loudly and over-the-top appropriately for Valentine’s Day and Mardi Gras. I certainly did. (I’m doing a combined fashion reenactment in this photo.) If I put on a Bow Tie o’ the Day in the Bipolar Forest, and nobody’s there to write a TIE O’ THE DAY post about it, it does—in fact—still happen. Yes, it does still make a sound, which you are hearing right now. 👂🏻✍️ And for Lent, it appears I decided to give up my hair.
FYI Skitter liked wearing her bell-bedazzled Mardi Gras collar, but she decided to pull a face for this photo anyway. She has moods of her own, that’s for darn sure.
