Argyle Bow Tie o’ the Day is pleased as fruit punch to be the piece o’ neckwear chosen to show off my new hearing device. I’ve already had to wear a hearing aid in my right ear for two years. Now it’s time for my left ear to get some extra hearing help. While y’all have been out pilfering all the tp, I got set up with my left hearing device. Yup, I can hear better. Nope, I no longer need to crank up the tv volume to Suzanne-annoying decibels. Overall, I think my hearing devices are gonna do the hearing trick for me, as long as I can remember to take them out of my earballs before I enter the shower. There is, however, one minor glitch I’ve got to work out between my left ear and its hearing device. My left ear is my pointy Spock ear, and the hearing device fits a bit precariously on top of it. It falls out of place sometimes. I must work on a solution for that. If all else fails, there’s duct tape.
Argyle Bow Tie o’ the Day and I are not freaking out about the entirety of the COVID-19 experience, but we do take it seriously. I am especially cognizant of the six foot social distancing guideline. Please don’t violate that rule if you run into me somewhere, or I might look like this.
This is a photo of me self-checking out at DICK’S MARKET today when one of my cashier pals was apparently super glad to see me. She walked over to within a foot of my person. She’s a pleasant woman who is in charge of watching me—and others—check out truthfully at the self- checkout. Without even thinking about it, I automatically moved away from her at the rate of blurry lickety-split. She apologized for her momentary forgetfulness about the guideline regarding social distancing. After I regained my composure, we chatted from afar about the truly valuable things in life: pets, kids, parents, and bow ties. Sounds about right to me.
This is Suzanne in her Tyvek work suit, on the job in our house. She has made her hazmat suit more dashing by wearing Bow Tie o’ the Day—at my suggestion, of course.
Last week, Suzanne was working part-time at her office and part-time at home. That’s what she was told to do, so she did it. Earlier this week, she was told to work from home for the foreseeable future. She is now slaving away, six feet from her Ultimate SewingBox, and six feet away from me. When it comes to COVID-19, Suzanne is a bit overly dramatic, if you ask me.
FYI Suzanne is such a good sport. When I ask her if she will help with one of my TIE O’ THE DAY ideas, she’s always game for whatever I’ve thought up. Not once has she ever said NO. Not once has she ever said, “Don’t make me look stupid.”
Thanks to whoever it is at Millard Care and Rehabilitation in Delta who snapped this shot of Mom and her bigly butterfly. It looks like she had a fine time crafting what I like to think of as a butterfly-style Bow Tie o’ the Day. Hey, you know darn well I’d find a way to wear this with a clashing shirt. (Thanks for taking the other shots too.)
MCR’s up-to-date Facebook page provides us welcome assurance that our loved ones who reside there are busy and happy, even though we aren’t allowed to personally visit them while COVID-19 lurks about. We know that with the lockdown in place, the folks at MCR are taking extra care to keep the residents safe and engaged in activities.
I cannot praise those who work at MCR nearly enough for all they do for their residents. When we first moved Mom in about 18 months ago, my siblings and I weren’t completely sure we were making the best decision for her. We were all a bit apprehensive about if she would really like living in “the care center.” But Mom began to thrive there almost immediately, and it reassured us we had made the right decision for her. In those first months, I received texts from some of her caregivers, updating me on her well-being. A few weeks after Mom moved in, a caregiver texted me to say Mom was missing my late dad horribly, so I posted a bunch of pix and stories about Dad over the next few days— which the caregiver made sure to read to and show to Mom daily. It seemed to help Mom out of her Dad-funk.
Because of the dedicated caregivers who work at MCR, Mom’s adjustment to her new, last home was easier on Mom than it was on us. Mom says the MCR food is tasty. The facility’s schedule is always full of field trips, games, parties, musical programs, and crafts. Mom didn’t answer her phone one day, and I found out later it was because she was on a trampoline. Another time she didn’t answer because she was getting her Temple Recommend.
Thanks again, MCR. Mom loves you, as do we. Keep posting the pix! Skitter and I will be down to see you all after the lockdown ends.
In an effort to forget about COVID-19 and the ever-present toilet paper shortage for a few minutes, TIE O’ THE DAY offers y’all this magnificent dip into the cuteness that is baby + bow ties.
This little charmer is Jane, and she is not related to me at all. Jane is the daughter of Brooke, who is a niece of my imaginary friend, Darci. I refer to Darci as my imaginary friend because I’ve seen her in person probably three times in the seven years I’ve known her. We understand each other’s humor and general outlook, even though we only experience it on Facebook.
Princess Jane was born around the same time Grace Anne came into the world. Our Gracie can rock a hair bow tie with the best of them. Although there is no official baby bow competition, Gracie might have to step up her game if she’s gonna hang with the likes of Sweet Baby Jane. Check out Jane’s enchanted head-bowin’ portfolio here. Bow, Jane, Bow!
Buckin’ bronco Tie o’ the Day and I managed to dodge the army of quarantined zombie bow ties, to slip undetected into the ladies’ reading room. I knew the hooligans would find me eventually. They always do. Every parent with a house full of children or bow ties knows this feeling: “I just need five minutes to myself. Please—just five uninterrupted minutes. I will sell my soul to the first power which will grant me five quiet minutes.”
But we parents also know we never get the whole five minutes. No, we get about thirty seconds before the first knock at the bathroom door, which is followed by childish attempts to turn the doorknob long after it’s clear the door is locked. We begin to grumble in our heads. We grumble quietly out loud. We wonder who had all these kids. We wonder why they can’t survive for such a short amount of time without us. We wonder a lot of stuff. Briefly, we wonder.
And then we get the teeny fingers under the door—clawing in our direction. That’s the nail in the coffin of our solitude. Our defeat is inevitable. We know there’s no going back now. We must surrender our sanity to the herd. We put down our unread books; we gird up our frazzled loins; and we head back into the loud chaos of those small beasts who love us as much as we love them.
So far, the quarantined neckties, ascots, cravats, and bolos have minded their tie business. The home-stuck bow ties, however, have taken over the house. This afternoon, I went to throw in a load of laundry, and I discovered four Bow Ties o’ the Day had already commandeered the washing machine. The Bow Ties tell me it’s their pretend lake. They say they want a ski boat. Oh, the swimming and diving I’ve seen the little bows doing! They are skinny-dipping as they water-frolic, as well! I can’t blame them. I did the exact same things when I was a kid— just not in anybody’s washing machine.
It’s the Zombie Bow Ties o’ the Apocalypse! I turn to the west, and there they are. I turn to the east, and there they are. It matters not if I go upstairs or downstairs—they’re following me. Everywhere. Their pointy little bow tie schools are closed for the duration of the pandemic, and all they have now is yours truly, 24/7. The dapper critters do not even allow me a moment of privacy. I fear my brain is becoming altered by the constant mass presence of the Zombie Bow Ties o’ the Apocalypse. I fear I am becoming one of them. 😱
Being stuck at home during this pandemic makes it easier for me to deal with some potty-training issues Tie o’ the Day is working on. I’ve got over 5,000 pieces of neckwear living in The Tie Room, and—trust me— it gets ugly if even one of them isn’t house-trained.
