Witty & Wise Ties, Trivia & Lies
Hey! Remember that skimpy, red-nose reindeer body thong somebody sent me last holiday season? I just turned it sorta upside-down, and VOILA!—I have a protective mask to wear when I am out of the house. In times of pandemic, we must make do with what we’ve got. Fat Tie o’ the Day will have to share all the attention with Rudolph for today.
Bow Tie o’ the Day crows out to me from the breast o’ the beast in this ad. Skitter will have a feathered walkie buddy!😜🐔
It’s April, and this year’s first crop of Bow Ties o’ the Day is beginning to bloom!
I have always proselytized for the wearing o’ neckwear, and for what I generally refer to as “clash fashion,” a.k.a.”clashion.” Today, I discovered yet another reason to believe in the goodness of “clashion”: Its colliding patterns and colors can be sleep-defying. Tie o’ the Day combined with my Shirt o’ the Day to keep me from falling asleep this afternoon due to a wicked bout of COVID-19 pandemic boredom. I dare you to fall asleep while looking at the busy business of my shirt and Tie together. Go on. Try it. I dare ya.
FYI I recommend wearing clash fashion to church meetings (when they resume), especially if you tend to nod off during services. Your eyelids won’t even be tempted to drop if you clash your clothing appropriately. Likewise, clash your wardrobe correctly and what you see of your attire in your peripheral vision will effortlessly keep you from drowsy driving.
I passed this church in Bountiful on my way to get my hearing aids adjusted. And of whom did I think? The ever-flourishing Grace Anne Blackwelder. Wood Bow Tie o’ the Day presents 10-month-old Gracie, Queen o’ Scots. ‘Nuff said.
Multi-color splotchy, skinny Tie o’ the Day is getting some much needed home-schooling on the subject of William Wordsworth’s poetry. You can tell Tie is excited about Wordsworth’s lofty work by all the notes Tie’s scribbling for itself in the margins.
Added bonus: Tie o’ the Day can act as its own bookmark when it’s done with today’s lesson.
I am glad to be literate. I could not survive the pandemic if I couldn’t read. To be honest, I couldn’t survive anything If I couldn’t read.
The Ties o’ the Day woke up restless. I could feel their mutiny coming on. But I know a thing or two about the power of words, so I headed ’em off at the pass with the calming question, “Do you neckties want me to read to you?” They were quiet and on my lap immediately. The lure of being read to quashed the tie mutiny before it even began. Trust me, reading calms everybody.
The days of home isolation have been generally the same old, same old—especially since Suzanne has been working from home. My main uniform is pajamas. A clean pair of pajamas per day is all I really need. Thankfully, I’m stocked up on that clothing staple. I had a bolo vibe this afternoon, so roadrunner Bolo Tie o’ the Day was the thing I had to wear.
I’ve ventured out every couple of days to pick up a few grocery items, which is not a bigly trek for me, cuz DICK’S is less than two blocks away from our house. Suzanne has declined any venturing out of the house, until yesterday afternoon when she wanted to do a quick Walmart trip. I gave Suzanne rubber gloves and strict orders for her to touch nothing but the shopping cart. I wore rubber gloves to touch nothing but the products we were buying. That Walmart experience prompted me to institute a new law: SUZANNE IS NOT ALLOWED TO GO ANYWHERE UNTIL THE PANDEMIC IS LONG GONE!
Why is she condemned to the house? Normally, Suzanne is level-headed and level-emotioned at all times, but she had a freakout of gargantuan proportions in Walmart because not all customers were social distancing properly. There weren’t a lot of shoppers there at all, but it seemed like almost every shopper who showed up at that time wanted to cozy up to Suzanne. Suzanne didn’t scream or run like a chicken with its head cut off out of the store. No, she had the kind of bigly meltdown only I could see. Her rubber-gloved hands gripped the shopping cart so tightly I thought I’d have to buy a crowbar while we were there to pry her fingers from the cart. She had a look in her eyes which said, “My head has exploded thrice already, and I no longer know my own name. Get me out of here!” And then, as if to properly punctuate her feelings, there were her eyebrows. Suzanne’s eyebrows tell all to me. As long as Suzanne has eyebrows, she will never fool me about anything. Her eyebrows told me she was seriously scared of COVID-19. Never again on my watch, I decided. I will travel alone for the foreseeable future.
As you can see, Bow Tie o’ the Day and I have been thumbing through VOGUE magazine this morning. I don’t have any parties or award shows to attend during the pandemic, but you know I’m forever the fashion maven—always checking in with the current trends and styles. As I’m certain y’all know by now, I take fashion and TIE O’ THE DAY posts very seriously.
I can’t explain why the “suit” in this photo is being used by VOGUE photographers to showcase expensive handbags, but the designers’ ad concept was oddly prophetic. They could not have foreseen the pandemic when they dreamed up ideas for this photo session, but I think they might be onto something. The TYVEK hazmatty suits are uninteresting to look at. I don’t know about you, but when I make my occasional supply runs to DICK’S MARKET, I’d rather sport a dapper, dreadlocks Sasquatch outfit like this than to wear a plain old, bright white TYVEK suit with boring, single-color rubber gloves. And do you know the best part about walking the grocery store aisles, looking like a dreadlocked Bigfoot? Ain’t nobody gonna fight you for the last roll of toilet paper, nor will anybody attempt to encroach upon your precious social distancing space.
I needed to make a break for it. I had to escape the house for a little while. I took Skitter, camo wood Bow Tie o’ the Day, and my chapped lips and we drove west through Farmington—toward the Great Salt Lake, and away from human breathers. We discovered a place whose existence we had never known about before today: The George S. And Dolores Dore Eccles Wildlife Education Center at Farmington Bay. I’d like to say that it’s a groovy place. And I’d like to say Skitter and I found some fetching waterfowl to gaze upon. But I can’t say those things, cuz a bunch o’ other people were out there doing what we were trying to do, so I decided it was prudent to practice my social distancing. We will visit the actual center another time. Skitter and I had a splendid time prowling farmland on the outskirts of the center, where we were alone. We stretched our legs and breathed the lake air, and my lips got more chapped in the sun and wind. I and my chappier lips felt refreshed by our foray afield, after two weeks of staying close to home.
I felt guilty about our adventure the whole time we were on it. I kept thinking: What if I got in a wreck, and the cops and EMT’s and doctors and nurses had to waste their time attending to me just because I got a little stir crazy in the house and went on a completely unnecessary outing which ended up in an accident, while the people with COVID-19 have to wait for their important care behind my selfish self?
I know I’ll go out-and-about again, but you can rest assured I’ll feel properly guilty about it.