Day: January 18, 2019

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My Two Desks, And Some Flowers

Here Bow Tie o’ the Day and I are in my over-stacked, over-messy writing loft. Two desks, a few crates, and two cabinets do not provide enough space for my files. My piles overfloweth.

But at least I’m wearing a flowery bow tie, which I wore to Suzanne’s office to watch her eat lunch. I wanted to take her flowers, but she has allergies. My bloomin’ bow ties solve the problem. If I’m wearing one, Suzanne knows it means I’m metaphorically giving her a bouquet. Bow Tie’s flowers are also more cost-effective than real flowers. That’s an added bonus. No matter the price though, I’d still give her fresh flowers if she wouldn’t sneeze the petals onto the floor.

Dad had horrible allergies, which is beyond inconvenient if you’re a beekeeper. Alfalfa fields and orchards were his offices. One summer evening, after a long day in the bee yards, Dad was reading the newspaper in his chair, which sat just inside the front door by our house’s picture window. The door was open to the screen door, in order to get some air moving through the stuffy house. The house didn’t yet have an air conditioner, so opening the door was absolutely necessary.

Suddenly that evening, Dad got into a prize-winning, allergy-induced sneezing fit. He said nothing. He folded his newspaper closed, got up, and walked out the back door. A few minutes later, he was outside the picture window with a shovel, digging up every marigold in Mom’s flower bed, which was right below the big window. When he was done, he came in through the front door, sat back down in his chair, and opened up his Salt Lake Tribune. He didn’t say a word. And neither did Mom when she saw her marigolds turned over in clumps of dirt. She just shoveled them into the wheelbarrow, hauled them out back, and torched them. That was the end of Mom growing flowers anywhere in our yard. Home should be a place where your allergies can calm down a bit.

This story demonstrates how Mom and Dad understood each other so well that sometimes they didn’t even need to discuss a problem. They simply cut to the result they would have ended up with if they’d had the argument in the first place. It saved them time and energy, and possible hurt feelings. Do not think for one millisecond that their un-argued arguments always went in Dad’s favor. Mom gave as good as she got.

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Dressing For Chores

All paisley, all the time. See, you can have a common thread to your outfit, while still creating the proper clashion. Hat o’ the Day, Cufflinks o’ the Day, Shirt o’ the Day, Vest o’ the Day (which I named the Pimp Vest), and– most importantly– Bow Tie o’ the Day combine to create a clash extraordinaire. I think this is some of my top work. I’m a proud momma of my fashion creation. Paisles are my fave “shape” with which to work my unmatchiness. I suppose my goal to clash makes me a non-matchmaker.

Perhaps I am overdressed for my day’s tasks. First they are all tasks I need to do at home. Cleaning, laundry, etc.. I will probably leave the house only for Skitter’s walkie. But what I’ll be spending most of my task-time doing is going through the storage bins and boxes in the garage, looking for ONE thing: a shoebox-sized box which holds half-a-dozen cassette tapes I recorded with my Grandma, Martha Anderson in 2000.

Grandma had fallen and broken her hip and shoulder. She was in the Delta hospital for a week or so before she could return to her apartment in The Sands. I stayed at the hospital with her each night. Well, Grandma must have gotten all of the sleep she would ever need in the preceding decades because she did not sleep. So we talked. At some point I started to record her stories. When I showed up at the hospital each night, I turned on the recorder and let it go. I haven’t listened to them for years. Life gets busy and you forget to do important things like that. Shame on us.

I know I still have the tapes somewhere, because I remember packing them up in Delta when we moved the contents of the Delta house up here. But I have no clue in which bin I so safely stored them. My biggest concern is that the tapes might not still be in playing condition after nearly two decades. I’ve kept them safe, but I can’t keep them safe from the passing of time. I no longer own a cassette player, but Betty/BT/Mercedes (whatever name you call my oldest sister) still has the one she got as a prize on WHEEL OF FORTUNE in the 80’s. She’s the family genealogist, so these tapes belong with her anyway.

I remember one startling moment during a night with Grandma, which I so wish had been recorded. After Grandma went back to The Sands from the hospital, I still stayed with her most nights. She stayed in a hospital bed in her living room, and I took over the couch.

One night, Grandma finally fell asleep for a few minutes. I started to nod off, when suddenly Grandma loudly said, in her sleep, “Isn’t it funny about horses? How they have sex, you know.” She stayed asleep and never uttered another word until she woke up a little later and asked me to get her some of her “cheesies.” Cheetos. Of course, I happily got her a bowl of cheesies. I did not ask her about the dream she had just had. But I really, really, really wanted to.