Witty & Wise Ties, Trivia & Lies
I was free to do anything my little heart desired while Suzanne was cloistered in the mountains for her annual long weekend with her Champagne Garden Club gals. And what exciting thing did I decide to do with my first full day o’ freedom? I put together a new puzzle! It was glorious fun! I haven’t put a puzzle together all by myself in probably 30 years, so it was about time I did. Am I creative when it comes to thinking up an earth-shattering itinerary for my alone-time, or what?
It happens every year around this time: Suzanne’s Champagne Garden Club gals head off to the mountains, where they hunker down in a cabin for a long weekend of not gardening. No one knows what goes on there, but there are plenty of hints for me to add up. I can say for a fact that when Suzanne left, her car was filled with gifts, embroidery gear, books, magazines, salty snacks, sweet snacks, cheesy snacks, and numerous bottles of wine and champagne. There is no electricity at the cabin, so they must keep themselves entertained, which they have no problem doing. The gardening women have been pals for around three decades now, so they talk and laugh and never tire of each other. Fun will be had by all. And then Sunday afternoon, they will trickle out of the cabin and into their vehicles for the drive back to their regular lives. No outsiders will be the wiser about what really went on at the cabin. They will then see each other at their rotating monthly Champagne Garden Club meetings, until next year’s cabin festivities.
So from now until Sunday afternoon, I am on my own. Well, Skitter’s here with me, but she can’t seriously get in the way of me causing whatever havoc I might want to conjure up. I always wonder what I can do with my annual 3-day freedom pass when Suzanne is away, but as I get older, I am finding I’ve already done so much of whatever I’ve wanted to do—especially when it comes to the trouble I’ve wanted to cause. There’s just not much I haven’t already done. And of the things I haven’t done, there aren’t many that I wouldn’t rather do with Suzanne along for the ride with me.
These days, I rather enjoy being alone when I’m faced with the opportunity. I’m rarely bored, and I know I’m not a boring person. But I will likely hang around the house most of the weekend and do my usual weekend-y things. I’m sure I’ll read more than I do when Suzanne’s around. Suzanne’s not a bigly fan of twangy music, so I’m certain that this weekend I will guiltlessly crank up more of the twangy music I normally don’t listen to around the house when Suzanne’s here. And I’ll play all the Springsteen songs that aren’t her faves. I will get to do at least one thing that’s not allowed when Suzanne is around: I can leave the bedroom television on all night long. Having the TV on helps me sleep more soundly than my Trazodone.
Of course, I’ll also chat with Skitter over the next few days more than I already do. (Yes, she’s speaking to me again—having finally forgiven me for taking her to the vet earlier this week.) I have a sneaking suspicion Skitter will find her way into the bed with me during the next few nights, as well. When Suzanne is away at night, I have this bad habit of forgetting to shut the door tightly on the dog crate when I put Skitter to bed. And then Skitter eventually leaps stealthily up on the bed and pokes her nose under the covers. Yup, that’s about as wild as I roll when I’m left to my own devices these days. I am rich with the simplest contentments. I hope you are rich with your own.
This is my first flannel Bow Tie O’ The Day of this Fall-ish time. The morning was a touch chilly. I had to drive to the Farmington Health Center to take my random, but twice-yearly pee test—to make sure my meds are in my body and illicit drugs are not. Yes, I passed. I always do. I’m boring that way. But when I got to the door of the building, the sign saying I needed to wear a mask hit me smack between the eyes: I did not have a mask with me. I couldn’t believe I had forgotten the mantra: MUST. STILL. WEAR. MASK. IN. MEDICAL. BUILDINGS. I dashed back to my jalopy truck to peek in the glove box in search of a face mask. In the glove box, I found three spare bow ties, and a pair of old binoculars, but there was no hint of a mask.
You know darn well I have a bazillion face masks, and you know I have no shame about wearing them. To me, wearing a face mask is just another chance to show off more fashion choices. This was only the second time in the two years of the pandemic I have made this mistake. What’s a girl with a mask-naked face to do? I took a chance the facility still had disposable masks, so I snuck in through the front doors. I tried to look as masked as I possibly could. I was wearing the Emperor’s New Mask, so to speak. I slinked right over to the “Welcome” kiosk, where I’ve seen disposable masks on previous visits. All of the face masks for adults were gone. But there was one kid-size temporary mask there, which I immediately stretched across my face. Then I strutted down the hall to the lab like, “Nothing to see here. Except my mask. Yeah, I’ve got my mask on. You didn’t see me without one. I am always prepared with my face mask.”
The face mask is cute, but it was a too-tight fit behind my ears. I swear—the mask’s straps squeezed the tubes of my hearing aids to the point that I could not hear most of what was said to me while I was in the building. I nodded whenever it looked like someone was speaking in my direction. It’s a good thing I’m familiar with the pee-testing process: I knew right where to go and what to do. When I got back out to my vehicle and took off the mask, it felt every bit as freeing as when I take off my bra for the day. Ahhhhh. My errand was done. I went, I peed, I conquered. 😷
Yoohoo! Alert! Hey! News flash! Whoa! Hold your horses! Update! Put your listening ears on! Give me your attention, please! Listen up! Now hear this! Yo! Give heed! Hear all about it! Update! Read my lips! Mark my words! All ears this way! Hear me now! Breaking news! Ears up, people! Focus on my words! I have an announcement to make! Let the bells ring out! Let the word go forth! Attention, K-mart shoppers!
I wanted to make sure I have your undivided attention before I make the following proclamation: Ford has informed me my 2022 Maverick has finally been BUILT and is waiting to be shipped to me! Delivery date is expected to be in the range of October 5-11! My fingers, toes, and what’s left of my pancreas are all crossed in hope and anticipation for its safe arrival! Obviously, I am excited! I am so excited I might have to buy panty shields for the first time in my life!
FYI I sincerely promise that you will never again see a post from me in which every sentence is punctuated by an exclamation mark! Exclamation marks are my second least favorite punctuation mark to use!
Yup, we had to make another visit to the vet. Remember the black mold that took over Skitter’s left ear last month? Well, it cleared up nicely. But then her left ear must have felt neglected, so the fungus took up residence in her right ear. That meant we had to take another drive to the vet yesterday, where Skitter got both ears treated at once—so the ear fungus will have nowhere to run for shelter. We also got hooked up with some allergy medication for Skitter to try, because the vet thinks seasonal allergies might be at the root of her ears saga. And don’t forget that Skitter had her vet dental appointment just a couple of weeks ago. The result of three trips to the vet for Skitter in the past two months is that the little princess mutt o’ mine is not talking to me right now. She wouldn’t even face in my direction for the camera while I attempted to snap TIE O’ THE DAY pix in the exam room at the vet’s. I’m serious—as I write this, it is almost 24 hours after her vet appointment, and she has still not uttered one word in my direction. Nor has she given me a usual kiss on my nose in that same amount of time. I’m hoping that when the ear fungus finally gets gone for good, Skitter will worship me once again. I miss her annoying me with her constant adoration. 👑
As a canine-related aside, I must tell y’all about something I dreamed last night. In my dream, I was being interviewed about dogs. The interviewer—a sort of cigarette-smoking, Edward R. Murrow kind of news fellow—asked why I have liked having dogs around me my whole life. In my dream, I didn’t have to think about the answer at all, and I said to the hipster interviewer, “Having a dog at my side at all times makes it seem normal to other people around me when I talk to myself all day long. People think I’m just talking to my dog, and not to myself. They think I’m a perfectly normal human being.” My awake self totally agrees with that answer. I am so smart in my dreams. 🗣 🐶
BTW I was wearing my FEAR THE BOWTIE t-shirt, as well as my argyle wood Bow Tie o’ the Day, to the vet appointment. Whenever there’s a vet tech I haven’t dealt with previously, the vet tech will inquire as to the significance of whatever bow tie or necktie I’m wearing at the time we meet. I give the new vet tech a brief run-down of my love for my decades-long neckwear collecting, and the resulting TIE O’ DAY website. If someone shows interest, I offer up to them a TIE O’ THE DAY wristband I’m wearing, so they can check out my tblog for themselves. Yesterday at the vet, was just such a day. By the time Skitter and I had left the vet office, I had given up both wristbands I was wearing to inquisitive office personnel. And I had to drive back to the office this morning to give out a third wristband to someone who didn’t get one yesterday. I am still amazed that ties and bow ties interest anyone but me. Life is good. 😎
With all due respect to the recently departed Queen Elizabeth, Queen Helen is NOT dead. We made a jaunt down the road to visit with Mom, and she is as alive as can be. In fact, she’s unstoppable. At some point in our lively conversation Mom mentioned she’s “quite content” to spend time in her room. She says she doesn’t “jingle” like she used to. She quickly corrected her mistake, saying she meant to say “mingle.” Then she went off on a rift about how she’s had a good, long life and she has—in her words—”jingled, jangled, and mingled all over the place.” She kept repeating that she had jingled, jangled, and mingled. I said, “Gee, Mother, you make it sound like you were a stripper!” To which she replied, “And your dad loved it!” Talk about wearing your feelings on the sleeve of your purple housecoat! That’s how Queen Helen rolls.
Mom assured us she’s not ready to die just yet, because she knows exactly where she’s going to go when she does: to Hell, of course, according to no one but her. We told her not to worry because we and Skitter will be there, too, so that works out okay. That got us all talking about sitting around and making s’mores over the fires of Hell, and Mom was all for that. Suzanne reminded us that Hell can be hot, but it can also be “as cold as Hell.” Suzanne said this is a good thing, because we can make those s’mores when we’re in the hot part, and we can eat ice cream when we’re in the cold part. Either way, I’m positive it’ll be nothing less than tasty as Hell. 🔥 🍫 ❄️ 🍦
Bow Tie o’ the Day can vouch for me that I am not generally a quitter. When I took the lid off the 30-ounce tub of White Raspberry Truffle-flavor Fat Boy ice cream, the message written on the blue safety foil tightly covering it implied that if I were to scoop the ice cream into dish after dish over a series of days, before finishing every last bit of it, I would be labeled a quitter. Like I said—I do not quit. I try to be a woman of solid character. I have a somewhat upright reputation to uphold, and my integrity matters to me. In short, I had no choice when I ripped the blue foil from atop the ice cream but to eat it in one sitting, straight out of the container until it was gone. All of it. I am not a lemming or a sheeple, but—like almost every human being I know—I can usually and easily do what I’m challenged to accomplish when it’s something I already wanted to do in the first place. 😉 🍦
Note: The ice cream headache I had when I snapped my photo was simply necessary collateral damage, resulting from my heroic effort to not be a quitter. You’d think a grown woman who is old enough to belong to AARP would know how to avoid the novice move of incurring an ice cream headache—which I, in fact, do know how to avoid when I am in my right mind. I solemnly declare my bigly ice cream headache was earned by accident, but also on principle. Forgive me—I was temporarily overcome by 30 fluid ounces of delectable chill. I’m pleading “ice cream intoxication” as my excuse for the whole gluttonous affair. But just to be sure that’s what caused my gluttony—in the name of scientific experiment—I think I am obligated to do this implied ice cream challenge again. Y’all know how much I will hate it. 🍨 😏
TIE O’ THE DAY saw this gem at the grocery store. TIE O’ THE DAY likes to keep its philosophy simple: working hard and being nice sums it all up. Go forth, my friends, and live an uncomplicated Friday. 🖖 👒 👔
Last night, we went to the Eccles Theater in SLC to watch a performance of the play, To Kill A Mockingbird. I went black-tie with my jumbo black flip-flops Bow Tie o’ the Evening. (You’ll note that I posted a photo of my white-background flip-flop bow tie earlier this week.) The production was fine. The play was fine. The acting was fine. The narrative was fine. The issues the play dealt with—racism and bias being the bigly general issues—were certainly still relevant to what is going on in the USA in 2022—unfortunately. I had a pleasant enough time at the Eccles. I would even say I enjoyed myself at the play. But I’m not sure the play needed to be written and produced in the first place. It didn’t shed any new light on what’s contained in the novel. The book had already dealt with its topics brilliantly. The movie version, with Gregory Peck as Atticus, was somehow able to bring out added nuances to the ideas the book laid out so skillfully. But the play? It was not a profound piece of theater in itself, in any way. It was a nice night out, and if you liked the book, I think you’d enjoy the play. But don’t expect any new revelations about prejudice and reconciliation to come flying into your mind from what occurs on the stage. I suppose the play could serve as a nice introduction to the book, for anyone who hasn’t yet read it. The book wins!
Harper Lee’s novel, To Kill A Mockingbird, is a model piece of literature. Like F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby, it is brilliantly structured, especially from a writerly point of view. If you want to read a couple of books of fiction that can teach you how to construct (or deconstruct) the bones of a novel’s plot, narrative, voice, and characters, these are two of the most helpful pieces of fiction to read closely and learn from. The novel is also full of ideas to chew on: ideas about race, peace, injustice, community, and the individual. Degrees of freedom is a key subject, too. I could go on about it, but I won’t. I will say that To Kill A Mockingbird is a book I have read more times than I can count. I probably first read it when I was 8 or 9. I have taught the book to middle-school classes, to university-level classes, to incarcerated male and female felons, and to the locals in book groups all throughout the state of Utah. It is a book I know well, inside and out. The stage version of the book did not dwell much on the book’s rich plethora of eccentric side characters, except for the character of Dill, who was true to his character in the book by being both annoying and hilarious at the same time. As in the book, Dill provided comic relief and some spot-on wisdom. The character of Mrs. Henry Dubose showed up, but for only one scene. For those who know the book well, let me just say—SPOILER ALERT—there was no penultimate event from Chapter 10 in the play. In my opinion, it’s a sin to kill Chapter 10.An interesting note about this stage production is that Atticus is played by John-Boy Walton, of “Goodnight, John-Boy” fame—aka Richard Thomas. Nearly 50 years after The Walton’s, he was as recognizable by his voice as by his face. He was more than adequate in the role, but his performance was nowhere in the vicinity of Gregory Peck’s Atticus Finch. Suzanne and I were astonished to discover that two of the younger members of our five-member, theater-going group didn’t have the slightest cultural clue who John-Boy Walton is. I know The Walton’s television series aired way back in the Dark Ages of the 1970’s, but it’s been shown in re-runs almost continuously since then. Culturally, “Goodnight, John-Boy” is still referenced often on television and in movies. Did it make Suzanne and I feel super ancient that these younger whippersnappers were clueless about the character of John-Boy? Heck Tate yes, it did. 🤠 🤓
My ice cream bar Bow Tie o’ the Day was an appropriate selection for when we went to Sunday brunch at Plated Dreams—a new restaurant that opened a month or so ago in Woods Cross. It was our first foray into the place. My pal, Darci, had posted about eating there with her lovey-dovey hubby, Dan. When I saw her photos of their visit, I knew from the decor that it was a Suzanne place we had to try: it is very pink and flowery. There is even a rose-covered retro phone booth, which makes for a nice spot to take a photo. I purposely did not snap a picture of it, so that I can have a really good excuse to go back soon.
The place did not disappoint. I had the Smoked Rainbow Trout Roses, which dish is described on the menu as follows: “Sourdough Bread, Feta Cheese Mousse, Pickled Mustard Seeds, Caramelized Shallots, Puff Baby Capers & Pink Peppercorns, Dehydrated Lemon & Fresh Dill.” I had them add a poached egg on top. Suzanne had the Chef’s Benedict, which came with corn & cheese bread instead of the traditional English muffins. She said it was delicious, but she will order it with English muffins next time. She didn’t like the texture of the corn & cheese bread.
We were too full to eat dessert at Plated Dreams, so we took home four of their decadent-looking dessert offerings to try at our leisure. I’d like to say some of the four confections lasted a full 24 hours, but I cannot say that truthfully. They survived in our house for just under 10 hours. I only got a picture of two of the creations to show y’all because we were dessert piglets and ate the first two treats before I even thought of my TIE O’ THE DAY responsibilities. I am pleased to report they were all yummerrific to the palate. I included a photo here of the kids’ menu because I liked the clever-yet-somehow-perfectly-accurate names of their various kid meals.
BTW Whenever I make reservations at Plated Dreams in the future, I will ask them to seat us in the “Feed me cake and tell me I’m pretty” booth you see behind me. If that booth isn’t available at that time, I will make our reservation for a time when it is.