Month: August 2022

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But Will I Really Do It This Time?

Instead of a bow tie around my neck or attached to my shirt this afternoon, I wore the word “bowtie” (I prefer the 2-word spelling of “bow tie”) and the Chevy bow tie symbol which are both printed on my t-shirt. As such, I’m wearing a rare two-fer Bow Tie o’ the Day. They each qualify.

The bigly task I assigned myself today was to deal with my notebook o’ passwords. For the last dozen years, I have filled its pages with hurriedly scribbled passwords, in no particular order, for all of my accounts on all of my devices. But honestly, I have also filled the notebook with things like Post-It notes, pieces of torn bill envelopes, and even a square of toilet paper—all covered with hastily written usernames and passwords when my Official Password Notebook wasn’t handy. As I’ve put each password-y scrap of paper into the notebook, I have always done it with the sincere intention of soon copying the passwords into the notebook when I had time. Well, whether or not I have the time, the time is ripe for me to organize and consolidate these passwords that are so necessary to the business of the current culture.

My password situation is more than a tad out of hand at this point. I dread it when Suzanne asks what the password is for something. I want to say, “How the heck should I know?” But I’m supposed to know, because I’m the one in charge of the Official Password Notebook, which is teeming with over a decade of unorganized information, including old usernames and passwords I simply haven’t gotten around to disposing of yet. Besides, I might need them eventually. Not! I’m sure Suzanne dreads having to ask me for a password, too, because I immediately get a consternated look on my face as I ferret through the notebook in my attempt to decipher what’s written on the million scraps of various sorts of paper. Successfully locating and translating whatever Holy Grail password Suzanne’s seeking at any given time is a process which takes me longer than it should. It’s also not a pretty event in which to participate.

Anyhoo… My goal is to consolidate every bit of information contained within the Official Password Notebook into the much-smaller-but-has-plenty-of-room notebook you can see in the last photo. The smaller notebook cover reminds me of Mom. And Relief Society. I like that. I’ll let you know how this project goes.

BTW The answer to this morning’s riddle is the word EMPTY.

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Riddle Me This

My crosswordy Bow Tie o’ the Day was with me a couple of hours ago as I was innocently minding my own beeswax, figuring out my morning Wordle. For those of you who don’t know, Wordle is a web-based New York Times daily word puzzle which requires you to come up with the designated 5-letter word of the day, with no hints as to what the word is. You have only 6 tries. (If you like to do word puzzles and want more info, I suggest you Google it and then give Wordle a whirl.) Anyhoo… While I was Wordle-ing earlier, I remembered a word riddle from my childhood that has always stuck with me. TIE O’ THE DAY thought it might be groovy to see if y’all want to take a stab at solving it. If you absolutely already know the answer, please allow others some time to cogitate and posit their answers. Post as many guesses as you want, and I’ll reveal the answer in this afternoon’s post. Without further adieu, here’s the riddle from my kidhood: This word has 5 letters and contains nothing. If you take away the first letter, you know what it is. If you take away the last letter, you still know what the word is.

Solve on, my friends!

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It Feels Like The Day Before Christmas Eve

My nautical-themed wood Bow Tie o’ the Day is slightly symbolic of where my head is at today: I am hyper-focused on traveling somewhere. Why? Because my Maverick is currently being built. Finally. You can see from my screen shot when I officially ordered it back in November. I am almost ashamed to admit how many times I have picked up my phone to check on the truck’s progress since I got word yesterday morning about its impending birth. I am being serious: I have not been this giddy with excitement since I was able to marry my soulmate almost nine years ago. I can’t wait for Ford to put the little check marks in the “In Production” and “Built” circles. My brother-in-law, Kent, is skeptical about the truck actually being built after these many months of waiting. He says he’ll believe there’s a truck when he sees it. Through my sister, Mercedes/BT, Kent has asked me about the status of the alleged Maverick nearly weekly since I ordered it. His concern for me getting my truck order filled has earned him the first ride in the I-can’t-believe-it’s-still-unnamed vehicle. I, on the other hand, have no doubt the truck will be built soon and successfully, because last night Ford emailed me a copy of the truck’s sticker—complete with price. If it’s down to the money part of the vehicle-buying process, there will have to be a tangible product before I get out the crowbar to pry open my frugality-trained wallet. 💸

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My Dreams Are Not-So-Silent Movies

Even a slim, wood mustache Bow Tie o’ the Day cannot figure out what’s been occurring in my dreams for the past week. The first night it happened, I thought it was a fluke, but it has happened in my dreams every night since. And just what strange thing is it that’s going on in my dreams? Well, my dream-self seems to be as hard of hearing as I am in real life. If a character in my dream talks to me, I immediately pipe up with, “What?,” “Pardon?,” or, “Will you please repeat what you just said?” If you’re around me in my awake life, you can corroborate that I somewhat regularly ask for whatever is said to be repeated. I can hear, but I don’t always hear the clear edges of words anymore. My hearing aids definitely help with the situation, but they can’t solve the entirety of my hearing dysfunction. So I am now a person who annoyingly has to ask for other people to repeat themselves, sometimes repeatedly, until I figure out what it is they’ve just said to me. I annoy even myself by having to ask it. It’s bad enough that I have to do it in my awake life, but now I am consistently asking for people in my dreams to repeat themselves—which makes my dreams rather nightmarish with real-life tedium. I am wearing myself out in my dreams by simply trying to hear what’s being said by the characters that inhabit my dream-life. Now, that’s odd. Apparently, not only am I an eccentric girl when I’m awake, I even dream in eccentricities.

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If I Truly Wanted A Motorcycle

Floppy-looking wood Bow Tie o’ the Day isn’t the most comfortable bow tie critter I own. In fact, it’s downright heavy. Consequently, I wear it only if I’m going to be out of the house for an extremely short period of time. My new Hat o’ the Day is welcome to go anywhere with me for however long I’m tasking out in the world: ketchup goes with pretty much everything, at least according to what I observed of my dad’s eating habits. Ketchup is now newly memorable to me for its political significance as well.

As far as the topic of motorcycles goes, the truth is this: if it was important to me to own a motorcycle, I’d get a motorcycle. Suzanne couldn’t stop me, no matter how much she’d worry about my safety. I don’t need her permission to buy one, but I do factor in her feelings about the prospect of my riding around in civilization on a motorcycle. Suzanne is my ride-or-die, and I take it seriously that she’d prefer I ride inside a vehicle as opposed to on top of one. Besides, when we met in the early 80’s, I already had a motorcycle. She had no problem with my riding my red Kawasaki all over Utah back then. And I do not recall her ever saying NO to me when I said, “Hop on back and let’s go!” I guess I could say I’ve been there, and I’ve done that.

Of course, I owned a motorcycle at a time in our lives when we had no significant responsibilities on the planet. We had no pets. We didn’t own a house. Our careers had barely begun. There was no Rowan yet either. We could easily take risks because we didn’t really see them as risks. We were so young that we still felt naively invincible. Danger was theoretical: it didn’t seem like a realistic possibility. At this stage of our lives, we both have people, critters, and careers that depend on us. We also have this improbable “we” we’ve made with each other.

When Suzanne and I were together in the 80’s, we barely knew each other yet, and it is difficult to know the value someone holds for you when you aren’t even aware of your own intrinsic value. But now, after all these decades, we both know exactly what we will lose when one of us is the first to go. I’m not being morbid. I’m being practical. I will never play it so safe that I can’t continue to have amazing adventures, but I’m quite content to be more cautious now with what’s important to me. I know Suzanne and I have constructed something rare with each other, and I want it to endure on this plane—and on the plane that follows—as long as it possibly can, which I hope is forever. I am proudly and passionately protective of Suzanne, and I am also more careful with myself than I used to be. Old things, like bones and long relationships, can sometimes be more brittle than they appear. Rapt attention and continual care are where the lasting strength of weathered things resides. Tenderness is the forgiving muscle that will hold it all together.

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Pretending To Be Miffed

Tie-dye Bow Tie o’ the Day is one of my most prized jumbo pieces in my bigly bow tie collection. It reminds me I was born a hippie—all peace, love, and understanding. However, today I am being a bit perturbed. After years of Suzanne slapping my hands from buying myself a motorcycle (or “donor-cycle” as she refers to them), Suzanne went on an hours-long motorcycle ride yesterday. It was for work, she told me—and it was, in fact, a work activity. But that’s not the point. The point is this: Suzanne got to play on a motorcycle for the day, and all I got was her official event do-rag, which you see here on my head. I admit it’s mostly a fake perturbed-ness I’m harboring against Suzanne’s motorcycle hypocrisy, but I’m going to nurse it for all I can. If I play my wronged cards right, I might be able to leverage permission for a new toy out of Suzanne’s hypocritical motorcycle ride. I do not pretend I see getting Suzanne’s OK for a full-blown motorcycle in my future, but I am now seeing the possibility of a scooter or an electric bike. Or at least a tricycle. 🏍 🚲 🛵 Fair is fair.

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Skitter Survived Her Teefs Appointment

Tropical Bow Tie o’ the Day is a diamond-point piece. My new Hat o’ the Day is an homage to the late Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, whose wit, drive, grace, and intellect I find myself missing more and more with every passing minute. Yes, we are Ruth-less, and it shows. Skitter, on the other hand, is merely toothless—at least by by one more gnarly tooth the vet had to pull because it was no longer capable of gnawing on dog chews. At Skitter’s dental appointments, I always tell the vet to yank all of Skitter’s teeth and fit her for dentures. I could easily teach her the denture ropes. It would be a lot easier and a lot less expensive to go the doggie denture route. In my experience, the best thing about dentures is that, except for the rarest of occasions, toothaches are almost completely eliminated. And if, for some reason, your dentures cause your mouth some kind of ache, you can take them out and let them go hurt somewhere in a bowl on their own. Despite my requests, the vet never does extract all of Skitter’s teeth. Some people just don’t take me seriously, I guess. And that’s probably a very good thing sometimes. Anyhoo… Skitter is now resting at home and raises her canine head every few minutes to pout in my direction—and to make me feel guilty about forcing her to get her fangs cleaned on a regular basis.

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Busy, Busy, Busy

Today is Skitter’s dental appointment at the vet’s. I took these photos as we waited in the vet’s parking lot for a vet tech to come fetch Skitter. Notice how Skitter won’t make eye-contact with me cuz she’s petrified and feeling like I betrayed her by dragging her to this hellish place for the second time in less than a month. I tell her it’s for her own good, but she’s not buying it. It breaks my heart to leave her there all by her lonesome self, but it will be so nice to no longer have to smell the stinky plaque on her wee choppers when I pick her up and she gives me a kiss.

FYI I have included a photo of my latest long-winded t-shirt, in case you’re interested to read it.