We vacationed in Nashville for the express purpose of attending a LUMINEERS concert. Their tour schedule didn’t show any indications they would be playing in Salt Lake City, so we decided we’d head somewhere else they were playing. We figured we’d see them at their Nashville stop. Plans were made. Flights were scheduled. A car was rented.
And then… About two weeks before our trip, it was announced that the LUMINEERS would be playing in Salt Lake City in August. Were we upset we were about to spend a bunch o’ bucks on our trip to see them in Nashville, when we can see them here in a few months? Heck, no! It just means we can can see them twice.
Wood spectacles Bow Tie o’ the Day had a fantastic night checking out the concert. Seeing the LUMINEERS twice still won’t be enough for us.
If we ever move to Nashville, we will be shopping for a house on this one road only. TIE O’ THE DAY surely ought to dwell in a home located on Edge O’ Lake Drive.
I donned my wood guitar Bow Tie o’ the Day for our outing to Nashville’s Fisk University yesterday—our last stop before heading to the airport for our flight home to SLC last night.
I am sad to report that this is the last photo ever to be taken of me in my bow tie beanie. A heady tragedy happened soon after our foray at Fisk U. Somewhere at the Nashville airport, between dropping off the rental car and walking to the terminal, my hat went missing. Was it pilfered by a jealous criminal with a penchant for bow ties? Did it run away to join the bow tie circus? Did I carelessly drop it from my too full clutches? I dunno. I just know it’s gone for good, and I shall never wear it again. Because of that, I am in mourning. And I also wish my bow tie beanie well, as it begins its new life as an orphan in Tennessee.
TIE O’ THE DAY presents a few sundry items I’ve run across here in Nashville: 1. A cleverly named wine I didn’t purchase. 2. A beckoning sidewalk sign I didn’t believe. 3. A pair of socks I didn’t purchase, but whose sentiment I definitely do agree with.
Apparently, my oldest sister has been leading a secret double life for years. She’s had us all fooled with her low-key Utah life, while she’s been brazenly hawking cowboy boots in her Nashville store. TIE O’ THE DAY’s discovery explains a lot about Betty/BT/Mercedes.
And by Sunday afternoon, we were in Nashville. I chose paisley, on paisley, on paisley for my traveling attire. Bow Tie o’ the Friendly Skies is two of my fave things: paisley and wood. Bow Tie scored me bigly points with the flight crew when we boarded the plane.
I am humbled by how much love has surrounded me from the moment I took my first breath. Thank you, Suzanne, for your steadiness. I’m sorry I am so often a storm.
Lipstick note Tie o’ the Day sets out early to remind you of the lost art of writing love notes. You have to go Old School, folks. Don’t do all that sweet talk through emails or texts. That will not suffice. Find the pencil in your junk drawer. And even though it’s broken in half, has no eraser, and the point is broken off, sharpen that pencil. Use the sorta broken pocketknife that’s also in your junk drawer to whittle it to a proper point. I bet there’s an old receipt or envelope in the junk drawer too, the backs of which have plenty of room for writin’. Scribble out a sincere, handwritten love note. Your person will thank Tie and you bigly that you took the time to write a love note the old-fashioned way. 💌 ❣ 💝💘
I sported my Valentine bear Tie o’ the Day to visit my ear doctor to get my hearing aid tuned up. He changed some filters and adjusted some other hearing aid innards. I don’t know that his work really helped much more than just the tiniest bit. My right ear is on its last leg, and my left ear registers only tinnitus. My hearing is hopeless.
At least I got to stand in front of a poster of an ear and see how I would look if I had an enormous right ear. While my doc was tinkering with my ear gadget, I tried to decipher some of the autographs on my doc’s prized JAZZ basketball. I check it out at every appointment, and I still can’t figure out whose autograph is whose.
If you wanna speak to me and make sure I hear you these days, you probably oughta use at least a cheerleader megaphone, pointed directly at one of my ears—while standing as near to me as you possibly can. I CAN’T HEAR YOU NOW!
I know it’s just my age being age-y, so I’m not really complaining about the normal breaking down of eardrums. It is what it is, as we say. But I am also complaining a bit because I’m having to do a lot of nodding and acting like I know what’s going on around me, when I can’t hear anything but a bloody mumble from anyone. I play like I’ve heard and understood because I do not want to annoy people by asking them to repeat and repeat and repeat what they’ve taken the time to say to me. I trust that Suzanne will drag me aside and loudly alert me if someone says something I absolutely must know. If you hear her yelling at me, don’t be alarmed. We’re fine. She’s just translating for me.
