Things Change. Not Really.

It happened: Suzanne left me. And I’m buying alcohol. It’s all true. But it’s only true in the sense that Suzanne left me to spend the weekend in Mesquite with her Champagne Garden Club Girls, for their annual Christmas bash. Spouses were invited, but my stoopid bipolar brain needed a quiet weekend at home. Sometimes it’s too people-y out in the world— even when they’re my fave people. Suzanne will be back home tomorrow.

And it’s also true I’m buying alcohol, but I have not tumbled off the proverbial wagon. I’m stocking up for Suzanne. I noticed her wine stash is depleted, and replenishing the wine inventory is part of my housewifery jobs. She’s not a bigly drinker, so I only have to make a liquor store run 3-4 times a year. I figured I should stock up ASAP since it’s so close to Christmas, which means exponentially growing herds, gaggles, bands, covens, and crowds at the liquor store with each passing day. I can now cross the “intoxicating spirits” errand off my list until probably February.

The photos show— among other things— how the weather changed on me while I was in the liquor store. It wasn’t snowing when I arrived, but it was dropping snow pellets on me and pine-cone-and-holly Bow Tie o’ the Day a few minutes later when I got back into Vonnegut Grace Vibe. The snow “storm” lasted exactly 45 seconds and caused 1 wreck in the parking lot. This is Utah, people! Snow happens. It is not a sign of the apocalypse. Just slow down. Pay attention. Panic is not required.

In the liquor store, I also snapped pix of some amusing beverages I ran across but had no reason to buy. We here at TIE O’ THE DAY thought you’d be amused too.

There Is No Limit

Snowy, sweater-y Bow Tie o’ the Day is part of an ensemble which is representative of my clash fashion philosophy, in general: There can be no such thing as “too much” clash-action going on in the outfit you wear— especially during the Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa season. Joy to the world, my clothing won’t match! During the holiday season, one must dress like a succotash medley of holiday cultural icons, with a dollop of silly commercialism— while always remembering what is known as “the reason for the season.”